bonfire at midnight

Mr. Sunshine (Ethan) Part One

Summary: It’s summer in Aruba and you’ve just landed a job at the most swanky hotel on the island, Riu Palace. It seems to be shaping up to be a pretty good summer with surfing, parties, bonfires and midnight swims. You were, however, not prepared for a certain brunette boy to show you the ways of living life.
Word Count: 2,682
Warnings: None.
A/N: I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS! I can finally show you guys what I’ve been working on and I sincerely hope you’ll like this, and if you do, don’t be afraid to pop into my inbox! Also, don’t forget to follow me on twitter! xx

Masterlist.


You woke up to the sound of music booming outside and cheery voices. You turned so you could lie on your stomach, arm stretching out for your phone that laid on the nightstand. You surpressed a small sigh when you caught sight of the clock, realizing it was almost 7 A.M. and your shift was about to start.

Sitting upright, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and placed your feet on the floor to push yourself up from the bed, already missing the warmth and comfort of it. You knew today was going to be a busy day, managing housekeeping during the morning and pool service during the day. And when you went to slide open the small balcony door, you sighed at the sight of people tanning by the large pool, the beach looking packed already when you glanced out. The sea looked beautiful though, sparkling and as clear blue as a sea could get.

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anonymous asked:

Your suit hcs just killed everyone, so I was thinking.... what if you made formal wear hcs for the girls? Would that be possible? My gay ass is thirsty. Completely okay if you don't want to, though, or if you just can't imagine it. Just an idea. :)

Ladies clothing is a whoooole new can of worms. May you quench your thirst. ;D

Original Suit Headcanons here, part 2 and 3 respectively.


Kiyoko. [Elie Saab]

  • Long, plum velvet that falls to slightly below her ankles. The dress is a long, thigh high split dress with a staggering deep-v neckline that resembles two pieces of fabric falling forwards and being belted around her slim waist with an elegant twist of the cloth. Splits both below and above, this dress is reminiscent of a toga-style, bare backed and embellished with large crystal brooches the shape of bird feathers and other sequins and diamonds clustered around her left shoulder and her right hip. A pair of bare, strappy metallic sandals of around four inches complete her look.
    • This look is all Kiyoko. Her style, her choice and her favourite colour, this dress, although baring a lot, covers without fear any part that isn’t commonly seen. It glides around her like waves due to the reflectiveness of dark velvet, and the cutting wraps around her making her as slim and mysterious as willow.
      • By far, this isn’t the only thing she thought of wearing. Because of her milky skin and slim figure, she can almost wear anything at all and bring it to its potential.
      • However, for an evening affair and among such close friends, she chose fashion and elegance over making a statement or being too eye-catching. Perfect for her personality.
    • Her black hair is left in waves behind her back. Slightly curled and not too long, they cascade past her shoulders and swirl around the base of her neck, adding to her striking profile.
      • Truth be told, she rather dislikes having her hair up. With her jet black hair and stern expression, people usually assume that she’d wear something austere, but she much prefers to let loose.
      • There is minimal product in her hair, except for the heat curling and a setting spray. It looks far too shiny for anything else to tamper with the smoothness of her hair tonight.
    • She doesn’t touch the dance floor at all, despite being asked multiple times by multiple men, she declines them all politely. Preferring to spend time with her team and catch up with other managers that she’s become friends with, she nurses a single martini for the whole evening and enjoys the relatively relaxing mood of the jazz band.

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Russian Folk Tale AU Aesthetic

(just a little something I’ve been rolling around in my head, based on the folk tale of Vasilisa and Baba Yaga, with a heavy dose of Gogol’s Dikanka stories)

Hux knows better than to look for the Fern Flower on Kupala Night. It had been a childish dream, once: find the elusive, sorcerous bloom in the forest, and learn the tongue of birds, open any lock, see all the treasures men keep hidden, take whatever shape he desires.

Ferns don’t bloom; he knows that now. Still, chores finished, he watches the rest of the villagers light the bonfires and dance. At midnight, he takes off his wreath, and lets the daisies and clover float downstream, hoping to divine his future.

Kylo has no interest in the villagers’ festivities, though he takes the offerings they leave at the forest edge.

Still, Kupala Night means power. At midnight, he douses himself with water from the river, and gathers the dreams floating downstream for his witch’s brew.

Mr. Sunshine (Ethan) Part Two

Summary: It’s summer in Aruba and you’ve just landed a job at the most swanky hotel on the island, Riu Palace. It seems to be shaping up to be a pretty good summer with surfing, parties, bonfires and midnight swims. You were, however, not prepared for a certain brunette boy to show you the ways of living life.
Word Count: 2,464
Warnings: None.
A/N: The first part was more for you guys to get to know the characters. Hopefully you’ll love this one! And thank you SO much for 800 followers, I love you guys so so much xx

Masterlist.


Later on that night, you were standing in front of your floor to ceiling mirror, observing your white tunic dress. It was rather short but you had swimwear underneath it and it was adorable so you nodded in satisfaction, running your fingers through your hair as you stared at yourself.

A knock sounded through the door and you didn’t have to wait for long before Michelle came bursting through the door, grinning like she had just won the lottery when she spotted you. You raised an amused eyebrow at her, wondering what was wrong with her. It was when you bent over, the open palm of your hand supporting your weight on the wall, slipping on your sandals that she opened her mouth.

“You’re wearing your fuck me dress.” She said and you almost slipped, catching yourself in the last second with a gasp.

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Human Emotions

Fifteenth installment of the Castiel imagine series “At First Sight” (“At First Sight” - “You’re Growing On Me” - “Under His Wing” -“Wandering Thoughts” - “Warrior Of Heaven”- “When You Wake” - “The Ultimatum” - “A First Glimpse” - “A Flared Soul” - “A Final Farewell” - “The Crosshairs” - “The End” - “Heavenly Repair” - “Northern Lights”) requested by two anons! “For the "at first sight” continuation I have an idea. It might be a bad idea, I HIGHLY DOUBT THAT but I almost feel like there should be a wedding. Ya know so there can be a honeymoon;P” “what if for at first sight cas was having like human urges and that lead to smut later?” We’ve got some details requested by its-pipsicle,“I’m thinking Cas would want to make it really special because it’ll be the first time that the reader and Cas have been that close in a while.“ I am now accepting requests/plot lines for future installments. This is the last that is being edited from an old draft. Hope you like it!2

(All past and future installments can be found on the “The Story Continues…” page)

WARNING- SMUT

It was a shock, to say the least, to wake to unassuming beige bedroom walls, void of any vibrancy, the room illuminated only by a sliver of yellowish light that had managed to slice into the darkness from beneath your closed door, letting the artificial morning of the bunker in. You shifted beneath the cotton sheets, the ache in your abdomen now all but a memory, your hand flapping onto the covers beside you to the vacant splotch of mattress Castiel usually occupied. It was unlike him to be absent this early in the morning, but with Ansiel about without leave, the hours you spent together were often tainted by preparation for another angel hunt. Your eyes focused and refocused on the vastness of your room, shadows swallowing immense plots of blank plaster, your mind in awe of the emptiness of your room without the airspace filled by shimmering feathers. You worked yourself up onto your forearms, running a hand absentmindedly through your hair as your eyes dissected the vacancy of the bedroom, your mind flashing images of similarly unoccupied motel rooms, with no company save a spare feather or two laid to rest on your pillow. You exhaled slowly, expelling the last breaths of peaceful slumber from your lungs, your voice carrying a just-woken rasp along the winds, your ears perking up at the sound that accompanied yours from beyond your bedroom door; an excited trill of muffled wingsong, the notes high-pitched and agitated.

You felt your lips stretching into a thin smile, imagining the way the feathers would reach towards your door, yearning towards you, now that they knew you to be awake, crystalline quills itching against the walls of the library as they struggled in your direction, sending shards of colour to paint the dull bunker interior. You could imagine precisely the hues that would be projected against the shelves reflected off of the table; golds and emeralds, impossible gemstones illuminated by an unknown light source, fracturing prisms against the walls. You squirmed until your legs were free of their cloth casings, shifting your weight as you moved to stand, your joints crackling like a midnight bonfire as you pulled yourself from the warmth and security of your bed.

Your feet inched towards your bedroom door before you’d fully regained your balance, resulting in a half-mad stumble, your hand catching your body on the doorknob as you teetered, your momentum turning the shining metal sphere and propelling you into the library, your steps staggering back to a normal gait. The library was as brilliant as you had hoped it would be; Castiel’s wings had grown back almost to the point of their former glory, his wingtips morphing around every protruding spine of the books of lore stacked precariously about the room, pressed fluidly to the ceiling, burning brightly around every lamp. His feathers went stiff upon your arrival, the diamonds dancing through the air pausing in their ethereal ballet, freezing mid-glide like gemstones dripping from a chandelier. Then, as if on cue, the feathers shivered, waves rippling from tip to quill like silk sheets catching a summer breeze, the masses of light humming against each other, a sound smoother than bells yet not so strenuous as a voice erupting throughout the down. Your breath hissed inward as you beheld the wondrous sight before you.

Lowering your gaze, you focused your vision on the man nestled between the two extensions so eager to envelop you, your brow knotting in confusion at his tentative grin, his hands folded neatly atop the polished wooden surface of the table. His formal stance had been typical, say, months ago, when you first met, back when he fought to control the urges of his feathers from caressing every available inch of skin on your body. Now, however, his posture was… strange. His shoulders flexing the wings behind him, reigning them in as he so often did when he believed himself to be too forward, aligning his actions with your memories. You tilted your head in silent question, meandering as best you could in your so recently woken state to the elongated side of the table, your palms resting atop the varnished wood, your angel clearing his throat in obvious discomfort. His wings shivered anxiously, the feathers battling his control with every fidget of his body, each roll of his muscles, his emotions tugging the wings forward with your every heartbeat. You slid into the seat across the table from him, his sapphire eyes following your movement, shoulders twitching his wings into place as they attempted to follow you as well.

"Good morning, Y/n,” he spoke, his voice stiff with nervous formality, the underlying tones of affection acting as his only savior. Your cheeks prickled warmly as his eyes met yours, the hardened gemstones softening as they locked on yours, his lips spreading into a more sincere smile. He needed only relax for a moment before his wings rushed forward, taking advantage of lowered guard, a few tendrils of unbearable softness managing to cradle your cheekbone before the angel locked them into place, his own cheeks melting into a delicate scarlet. His hands dropped quickly to his lap, his biceps hardening on either side of his chest with the force he exuded trying to keep himself stagnant. Your pulse beat sporadically, heart hammering against your ribcage with intent to burst free, your fingers reaching upwards in the direction of the farthest-reaching, most ambitious feathers, Castiel grunting softly as he worked them away from you. You dropped your hand, your pride injured, your wrist smacking against the tabletop. Your eyes honed in on the angel’s expression, his eyes returning the intensity of your stare, pleading with you wordlessly, against what you were unsure. “I’m sorry, it’s just-” he began, his fingers lacing once more atop the scattered lore, pages he’d displaced with the winds of his wings now resting motionless beneath his hands.

“Cas, what’s gotten into you? Is something wrong?” you inquired, your voice shaking from lack of use, your legs carrying you from your seat on a oath around the table. Castiel stood quickly from his chair, standing in place as you strode towards him, his body seizing as you approached. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. “Is it… is it Ansiel?” Castiel lowered gaze, shaking his head to dismiss your assumption, his eyes locked on the floor beside your feet. Your hands smoothed over his chest, reaching up to tighten slightly around his shoulders, his eyes closing at your touch, his shoulders rigid as he fought his wings. Your fingertips ghosted along the sides of his neck, prickled by his stubble as you grazed his jaw. He sighed, his wings swooping around you, nudging you closer to his body, his arms closing around your back. His movements were fluid, as was to be expected of a celestial creature known for grace, but his hands had hardened. His embrace was gentle, but something was amiss. His wings smoothed over you, shattering fractals in known and unnameable hues, the colors and textures more concentrated in so tight a chrysalis, the light nearly blinding. This was unlike his usual calmness, the normalcy of relaxed fragments replaced by a brightness nearly painful to take in. You squinted, watching his eyes widen. You were reaching a hand to his forehead to check for fever (a pointless measure, you know, but a habit nonetheless) when he stepped away, pulling his wings like liquid down a drain behind him, his hands curling into fists at his side. “Cas?” you whispered, your voice now brittle with fear and uncertainty. He ducked his head, his jaw clenching.

“Forgive me. I… I’m not sure what’s become of my control.” He extended his fingers slowly before raising his face to meet yours, his eyes apologetic. “This morning, before you woke, I was… reminded of our…” he paused, clearing his throat before continuing. “The ceiling, you see, has yet to be repaired,” he stuttered, dropping his gaze like a schoolboy being reprimanded, his cheeks darkening with his embarrassment. Your heart leapt within your chest. “My intentions were not to concern you. Your presence… ignites certain…” his voice cracked, “Human emotions.” You walked towards him then, his ocean eyes flickering up to yours with a certain misplaced guilt that melted your heart. Your arms wrapped around his neck, his wings ushered you to him with a sweeter temper, taking additional care to wander down your spine. Castiel’s hands fell to your waist, securing you to him in the process, his eyes staring down with open affection and carefully guarded lust. He licked his lips quickly, his palms squeezing your waist as your mouth moved to meld with his, your tongue stroking along his lower lip, your face tilting to better fit his. You pulled away, his lips chasing you, tugging you back to him with a most potent urgency, his words filtering through your kisses. “Sam and Dean are out charting Ansiel’s location,” he mumbled against your mouth, too absorbed in your embrace to separate and speak. His hands lavished up and down your back, leaving a trail of goose-flesh his feathers tended to almost immediately, their song blaring in your ears.

You smiled into his lips, pulling him closer to you by the collar of his dress shirt, your fingertips extending to stroke the feathers curling around his back, a shudder rocking through his body at the contact. His kiss became more fervent, his hands dropping to the backs of your thighs, his inhuman strength plucking you from the floor with ease, wrapping your legs about his waist. Your pelvis rested just above his hips, his hands tight on your back as he carried you out of the library and towards your bedroom. His lips ducked to your neck in a surprisingly confident manner, his chest burning brighter the closer he lead you to your bedroom, his wings displacing scrolls of parchment and dictionary-sized novels as he moved. His feathers tucked into his sides as he pushed through the doorway, careful not to scorch the wood paneling on his way in, one hand deserting your body to slam the door behind him, a more… human way than his last attempt. In a rush of air whistling through his feathers, you collapsed backwards onto your mattress, watching as the angel removed his trench coat, letting it fall to the floor beside him, ripping the tie from around his throat within the same second. His fingers nimbly unbuttoned his dress shirt, his wings humming in anticipation. Once he had peeled the clothing from his upper body, he dove down to you, smiling as you giggled, his lips pressing into the hollow beneath your jaw. “I love you,” he sighed into your skin, his hands working your pajama bottoms from your hips, inching them down to your ankles, your own feet kicking them off of the mattress, where they landed atop his overcoat. The tips of his wings stroked along your sides, tickling the undersides of your feet as you squirmed. Castiel grinned as he hooked his hands beneath the hem of your shirt, wasting no time in removing your camisole.

Surprising you, he wrenched his wings back once more, their light now coating the room in a familiar rosy hue, a trademark colour, you could assume, of Castiel’s deepest affections, fragments of ruby light glimmering along the scorch marks above. The contours of ash and smudges of darkness fit to his new wings almost perfectly. The angel’s eyes held yours as he backed himself away from you, his eyes shining ever more brightly when surrounded by such a contrasting pigment, his face level with your inner thighs. Slowly, as if you were as delicate as a paper-thin shard of stained glass, he traced along your hips, his fingertips diving beneath your undergarment, hooking around the fabric and tugging downward. You lifted your hips as he set your underwear aside, his eyes never leaving yours. He lowered himself to your stomach, planting kisses down your abdomen, his eyelashes brushing your flesh as his eyes closed, the angel moving lower with each tender kiss. You dared not close your eyes, watching the rose-toned fragments as they moved along his skin, his mouth pressing ever more lingering kisses to your body. He paused directly above your heat, his eyes holding yours, asking permission in silence. Your deafening pulse blocked out the low trill of his wings, your head nodding on its own accord seconds before the angel’s tongue darted between your folds, his lips pressing against your thighs. Your eyes closed in bliss, your mouth opening wordlessly, the blank expanse of your eyelids illuminated with crimson waves. Castiel’s wings ruffled behind him, their song growing higher in pitch as he worked his tongue over you, his hands ghosting up and down your thighs, pulling you closer to him, bending your legs with his own movements to keep you steady, your lips pursed tightly to stop yourself from vocalizing your pleasure.

He interrupted himself, your eyes fluttering open to find him staring at you, a growing bulge in trousers, his cheeks flushed. His wings, obediently held at bay, trembled alongside you. You writhed beneath him, embarrassed by your lack of composure, your mind too foggy to dwell too much on the fact, Castiel’s smile churning the sea within his irises. His wings curled over you, a canopy of vibrant garnets glittering like stars above. He lowered himself below your hips once more, his hands gripping you tighter as his pace increased. Your head tilted backwards against the comforter, your fingers biting into the sheets like crooked daggers, his mouth staggering between kisses as his tongue dove inside of you. Your hand flew to his hair, clinging to him as if to save your life, his audible groan shocking your core with vibrations. He removed his hand from your thigh, moving to run the pads of his index and middle finger along the space beneath his tongue, your hips bucking as his fingers prodded your center. You gasped his name in shock, your fingers gripping his hair tightly, your actions sending him backwards. You watched him work his trousers and his boxers from his legs in one smooth motion, falling forward over you, using his wings to ensure his stability, feathers knocking against your bedside table. You were going to destroy this bunker.

His lips collided with yours, your hands closing around his back, snaking away from his wings after mere moments to slide between your bodies, stroking gingerly along his shaft. His teeth nipped along your lower lip, pulling you deeper into his kiss, his muscles tensing as you ran your fingers over his head, his wings flapping once out of sheer pleasure, the sizzling sounding above you ignored by both of you. What was one more burn on the ceiling? Your hand wrapped around him, his own hand clutching your wrist, pulling your hand to your side. He groaned, pulling your legs around his waist, your ankles locking behind his back as he eased himself into you, your breath crushed from your lungs at the movement. His wings beat in time with his thrusts, his eyes devouring your own. His arms locked beside your biceps, your hands feeling over his ribs, clutching him to you as he moved. His head ducked into your shoulder, his lips sucking on your skin between his heavy breathing, his breath further warming your skin. You reached behind his back to run your fingers through the tips of his feathers, their light intensifying with his every heartbeat, every pulsation, each thrust burning brighter and brighter. Your head was spinning, his song reverberating within your skill, his jaw clenching against your neck as he slowed, pushing into you with more force as your pleasure neared its peak, his wings straining backwards, light erupting from his shoulder blades. The force of his beating wings drove his chest from yours until he was kneeling between your legs, his hands on your hips.

You bit down on your lower lip as you tensed around him, his wings flattening against the ceiling at the pressure, his hands immediately clawing your body from the sheets, raising you until you were sitting in his lap. His hands tightened on your back as he lowered and lifted you against him, his face buried between your collarbones, your own face tipping backwards, your eyes hazily watching the colours move across the ceiling. You collapsed forward against him as he too reached his high, your face dropping to nuzzle against his neck as light burst forth from his feathers, banishing the rich scarlet from the walls to replace with a brilliant white. His movements lifting you slowed to a stop, though his hands remained firmly on your waist, his head raising so as to connect his eyes to yours. His breath washed over your face, traces of honey and sunshine on his skin, his eyes glowing like sapphires. He smiled steadily, his breath calming, his lips molding to yours with delectable patience as he laid you back against the mattress, rolling to his side next to you, his wings settling shakily around you. You sighed an exhausted laugh, nuzzling your face into his chest, your complete shock at his actions muffling your mind. Your hands began groping about for your clothing, dreading an intrusion, the angel peppering your bare skin with kisses as you moved, wiping droplets of sweat from your temple with the backside of his index finger. You spotted your pants atop his coat, extracting yourself from the angel’s hold, his hands trailing after you almost comically as you stumbled from the bed. Your hands closing around the lapel of his trench coat in the process of retrieving your pants, holding the coat as you stood. Something solid tumbled from his pocket onto the hardwood flooring, his wings going dead silent at the sound. He moved to sit atop the bed, his eyes locked on the object. You stared quizzically at the item, your mind connecting the dots before your body had a chance to respond. Castiel’s wings cried almost inaudibly as he watched your jaw drop with understanding.

You were staring down at the dull shine of velvet, obsidian in the darkness, coating the exterior of a ring box.

your life will be a mess sometimes; a big fat mess of broken alcohol bottles and tears racing down your cheeks at three a.m. it will be failing math tests and not getting into the college you applied for. it will be the boy you love falling in love with another girl and your best friend moving across the country. it will be the world caving in and you not being able to breathe and it will be shaky hands and slurred words and beating hearts- but it will also be beautiful. it will be road trips across the country with your best friend with the radio loud and your heart so free that it feels like it’s going to explode out of your chest. it will be late nights on the roof with only the stars above you and you’re holding the boy you love and he murmurs into your ear that he loves you back. it will be early mornings with the sunlight draped across your back as you’re curled beneath the sheets soaked with the light that fills your soul. it will be midnight bonfires on the beach and falling asleep with your eyes sparkling and your heart pounding and the waves that tossed you around filling your lungs. it will be dancing in the middle of the street at midnight with your feet brushing the ground and hair tangled with wonder and euphoria. it will be comfort, love, light and freedom. it will be finding yourself in things you love and losing yourself there too. it will be drunken kisses, shaking breaths and warm heartbeats. it will be magic. you just gotta wait for it.

It’s summer in Aruba and you’ve just landed a job at the most swanky hotel on the island, Riu Palace. It seems to be shaping up to be a pretty good summer with surfing, parties, bonfires and midnight swims. You were, however, not prepared for a certain brunette boy to show you the ways of living life.


I have finally decided on the plot for my new mini series Mr. Sunshine!Hope you like this little sneak peek, first part will be posted very soon! ;)

anonymous asked:

A prompt based on that post about harry being a blanket thief?

Sometime around three in the morning, when the owls outside have faded into oblivion and no longer add eeriness to the night sky, the shivers start from the bottom of your feet and move upward to your fingertips. Your hand moves to curl around the end of the quilt, meaning to pull it closer to your chest and delve your toes underneath Harry’s calves to warm them, but you come up empty-handed with a fistful of chilly air. When your eyes bleary blink open a moment later, you find that the spot to the right of you is encased in a sheath of comfort, long legs wrapped in the blankets that smell of the curly hair that rests in a dark halo upon the pillow beneath his head. 

The angel sighs wistfully in his sleep, undoubtedly dreaming of paradise and sun rays while your toes tingle in the frigid autumn weather. The broad expanse of his back is covered with the cotton fabric, but the muscles between his shoulder blades move as he breaths evenly in his sleep. He is the picture of contented peace, the physical feeling of slightly blackened marshmallows roasting against the heat of a bonfire at midnight, and your mouth absentmindedly finds the space above the small of his back in a kiss while his eyelashes flutter inbetween alternating images of the shore soaking the sand in sparkling seawater. 

When you whisper his name in his ear, stroking your fingertips against the top of his shoulder, he merely turns his chin a fraction of an inch to meet you in a gaze of foggy green eyes. 

“What’s the matter, love?” he mumbles, fist coming up to brush the sleep away from his eyelids. 

A tired, affectionate smile rests at the outline of your lips as Harry turns on his side to face you. One corner of the blanket falls from the resting point of his collarbone, the warmth slipping from his sternum to just above his belly button. The gray material is a stark contrast to the tan on his skin, as if the season of fall in London is no match for healthy red tint to his cheeks. 

“Can you not sleep?” he continues quietly, because in your daze of following the line of his strong jaw and how it glides in motion with his words, you have not answered. He carefully brushes his thumb against the exhaustion beneath your eyes, leaning forward to lovingly press his lips to the slope of your cheekbone. 

With a murmur of how he stole the covers from you, you wrap your fingers around his wrist and close your eyes as his palm cradles your cheek. The sheets rustle with movement as he unfurls himself from the accumulated heat, and rather than keeping the warmth to himself, he pulls you close to his chest and tucks the top of your head against his chin as he tucks the blankets around the two of you.  

Harry is whispering against the curve of your ear, large hands resting atop your back and smoothing up and down your spine, “Sorry, sorry, love,” with a small kiss of endearment against your temple and a gentle chide of your freezing toes. 

Halfheartedly, you grumble against his chest, “It’s all your fault,” and he shushes you with a slow sweep of his fingertips against the dimples at the bottom of your spine. 

“Go to sleep now,” he says, protectively securing his arm around your waist until your nose presses into his throat and your feet are intertwined with his at the end of this big bed. “I won’t take the covers any longer.” 

You press your fingertips to his chest, listening for his heartbeat as the two of you drift into sleep again. The wind outside calms to a mere caress among the leaves as night dims to the pink haze of the morning. 

Even when you wake and there is a sleepy smile on Harry’s face, the blankets still wrapped around you and miles of empty space to the side of you, you choose to be close to him. 

The Sims 4 Get Together: Features, Box Art, Render, & Logo

Welcome to Windenburg!

Live it up in the beautiful world of Windenburg with The Sims 4 Get Together! Explore picturesque landmarks like the sprawling hedge maze at the garden chateau, alluring pools at the bluffs, and the mysterious ancient ruins. Grab a delicious espresso from the barista at the café, chat up your crush at the pub, and dance all night at the discotheque. Get together for exciting group activities like foosball, midnight bonfires, super-secret dance parties, and more! Sims can also join different clubs with distinct personalities and styles to meet new Sims and live it up!

KEY FEATURES
Explore a new world. Discover the beautiful world of Windenburg! Explore its scenic neighborhoods including the charming traditional countryside, bustling town square, ultra-modern business district, and exclusive private island.

Meet new Sims. There’s just something about Sims from Windenburg that makes you want to meet them all. Join different clubs, each with their own interests, personalities, and styles. Can’t find the perfect club? Create and customize your own. Playing with different clubs unlocks unique rewards for Sims to enjoy.

Rule the dance floor. Take the party to the next level with new DJ & dancing skills. Pump up the crowd by creating the perfect mix in the DJ booth, then jump on the dance floor and show off all new dance moves.

Party anywhere. Throw parties anytime, anywhere! Head out to the ruins or any local hotspot, and set up the DJ booth to get the party started. Build a bonfire to heat things up, dare other Sims to get into some hilarious situations, and sneak away for a quick romp in the bushes with that special Sim.

Get styled. Use the new walk-in closet to try on a variety of different outfits with other Sims to get their reactions – for better or worse. Select outfits for all of your Sims and get ready for a big night out. Feeling frisky? Sneak into the closet for a little WooHoo while no one’s watching.

Unintended Epilogue

Things were getting better now. Now that Dan realised that he could fix himself and Phil realised that he couldn’t be fixed in an instant. Now that Dan realised that Phil couldn’t repair all the cracks in Dan. Because only Dan could do that.

But now that Phil had Dan, maybe he could have someone to support him whilst he tried.

And Dan was trying now. Every day that passed Dan was becoming stronger. And not all of those days were good days. Sometimes there was too much work, or stress, or things would just go wrong. But Dan had Phil and his friends and he was finally realising that he also had himself, and somehow, he was getting through it all.

The morning of the last Firespot that year, Dan sealed off the letter to his parents- the last one he would send before going home, sticking to their new ‘once a week’ plan, and collapsed back on his bed, closing his eyes and smiling in pleasure that his teachers hadn’t bothered to set him any homework for his last week at school, so that he could just wait in peace for Phil to get back to the room.

***

Dan stuffed a whole giant melted marshmallow into his mouth and started coughing wildly as it burnt all his tongue.

‘Serves you fucking right, you pig!’ laughed Chris, PJ elbowing him hard but still snorting with laughter.

Phil put two in his mouth. ‘Beatdaaa!’

Dan was moaning, but Phil spun his round as they danced around the bonfire, Dan’s stomach queasy with happiness and too much sweet food and too much spinning.

They switched partners and switched back, Phil spinning Dan again as Dan groaned at the torture.

There had to be some way to get Phil back.

The flames were high and spitting glowing fireflies into the night, the thick cover of trees looming all around them, glistening with frost. Dan had come down with his big furry hat this evening, but the fire and the dancing and Phil had warmed him up plently, and now he was sweating as if it was the height of summer, rather than approaching Chrismas.

The band were wild and happy and so was everyone there- it had been a good week, classes slowing down and everyone hyped up a little bit about the first snow of the year. (Which had, of course, melted by now- typical England.) Everyone danced like it was the only time they’d get the chance, and Dan, Phil, Chris and PJ all spun round with them, all set aglow by the golden flickering firelight.

‘Dan..?’

‘What!?’ Dan laughed as he twisted around another dancing couple, pulling Phil back before he bumped into them.

‘I don’t trust you-’ murmured Phil as he leant into Dan.

‘I love you too, Phillyyyyy-’

And so at the end of the song, when the band slowed to a halt and the last strains of music drifted out into the cold night like the swirling smoke of the beautiful bonfire, when everyone’s dancing slowed to an almost-still of panting of slow soft smiles, Dan leant Phil back and kissed him hard on the lips, just like he had all those months ago.

And Phil went just as red.

And their friends went just as wild.

And it was a thousand times better. Because now Dan and Phil were together, and happy, and life was good.

***

‘Hey, Peej, play us something!’ Phil dropped into the empty spot on one side of PJ,

‘Nahh,’ PJ shook his head, tightening his arm around Chris’ waist.

‘Oh my god,’ shouted Chris, ‘you play? What do you play? Peeeeej! I don’t even know but I need to?! How have I known you this long and yet-’

‘Alright loser, calm down. I just play a bit of guitar.’ PJ laughed, ‘No but seriously, Chris, Chris are you ok-’

Dan and Phil grabbed PJ and pushed him towards where the musicians sat. Chris followed.

Phil could see Peej chatting with the musicians, and by the time the song had ended he had aquired an old acoustic guitar. With Chris wrapped around one side of him, which probably, Phil thought, would make it much more difficult to play, yet Peej didn’t seem to be objecting, he started to coax a tune out of the guitar.

As the soft guitar music flickered up into the night sky with the darting embers of the fire and the soft throatiness of PJ’s voice, Phil caught a familiar expression on Chris’ face. In fact, Chris looked just as bedazzled with PJ’s talent as Phil was with Dan’s.    

‘I love you,’ Phil said, turning away from where he was looking and admiring Dan’s tired face and dark hair, all the loose strands backlit with gold.

Dan’s head tilted to one side, eyes half-shut with sleepiness as he pressed his head into Phil’s shoulder. ‘I love you too.’                                 

 

When Chris and PJ finally caught all the monsters, counted all the stars, and kissed with all the dark woods around them to cheer them on, they headed back to Firespot.

‘I think we’ve got a problem,’ laughed Chris lightly into the night.

PJ was close behind him, wrapping his arm around his waist and dropping his head onto Chris’ shoulder, his woody curls tickling the other boy’s neck.

'Let’s just leave them,’ PJ sighed, breathless with affection for his two best friends and the glowing embers of the dying bonfire and the beautiful midnight forest around them and most of all for Chris.

’…They’re in love.’

So Chris and PJ headed up back to the main building alone together, silhouetted against the bright moonlight, leaving their two friends curled up in each others arms, looking for all the world like they would never let go again.

 

masterpost - playlist (go listen i worked my butt off on that)

a/n: THANKYOU SO SO MUCH! THIS HAS BEEN ONE HELL OF A FIC Fuck. anyway can i give a huge thankyou to my betas holly and lauren, also emilie for her art, and especially the pbb mods who facilitated all of this thREY ARE FAB ok i’m going insane 

if you enjoyed this fic then please feel free to tell me, i need ur love ok thankyou so much ily bye

-zelda

midnights bonfires in homemade hidey holes, empty beers and a half finished bottle of rosé buried in the sand, the gleam of flame playing with her rings as she rolls us a spliff, summer guitar and warm cheeks, crumpled clothes kicked off by sandy feet and left on the shore,moonlight illuminating freckles on pale skin, wrists catching in the lapping waves around her waist, the light gleaming off the water and her clear eyes, the night wind on our bare skins

kanirules  asked:

4 with jimin please :) thanks!

4. Please tell me this is a joke.

Sometime around three in the morning, when the owls outside have faded into oblivion and no longer add eeriness to the night sky, the shivers start from the bottom of your feet and move upward to your fingertips. Your hand moves to curl around the end of the quilt, meaning to pull it closer to your chest and delve your toes underneath Jimin’s calves to warm them, but you come up empty-handed with a fistful of chilly air. When your eyes bleary blink open a moment later, you find that the spot to the right of you is encased in a sheath of comfort, long legs wrapped in the blankets that smell of the brown hair that rests in a dark halo upon the pillow beneath his head.

The angel sighs wistfully in his sleep, undoubtedly dreaming of paradise and sun rays while your toes tingle in the frigid auntumn weather. The broad expanse of his back is covered with the cotton fabric, but the muscles between his shoulder blades move as he breaths evenly in his sleep. Jimin is the picture of contented peace, the physical feeling of slightly blackened marshmallows roasting against the heat of a bonfire at midnight, and your mouth absentmindedly finds the space above the small of his back in a kiss while his eyelashes flutter inbetween alternating images of the shore soaking the sand in sparkling seawater.

When you whisper his name in his ear, stroking your fingertips against the top of his shoulder, he merely turns his chin a fraction of an inch to meet you in a gaze of foggy green eyes. “What’s the matter, love?” he mumbles, fist coming up to brush the sleep away from his eyelids.

A tired, affectionate smile rests at the outline of your lips as Jimin turns on his side to face you. One corner of the blanket falls from the resting point of his collarbone, the warmth slipping from his sternum to just above his belly button. The gray material is a stark contrast to the tan on his skin, as if the season of fall in Seoul is no match for healthy red tint to his cheeks.

“You can’t sleep?” he continues quietly, because in your daze of following the line of his strong jaw and how it glides in motion with his words, you have not answered. He carefully brushes his thumb against the exhaustion beneath your eyes, leaning forward to lovingly press his lips to the slope of your cheekbone.

With a murmur of how he stole the covers from you, you wrap your fingers around his wrist and close your eyes as his palm cradles your cheek. The sheets rustle with movement as he unfurls himself from the accumulated heat, and rather than keeping the warmth to himself, he pulls you close to his chest and tucks the top of your head against his chin as he tucks the blankets around the two of you.  

Jimin is whispering against the curve of your ear, large hands resting atop your back and smoothing up and down your spine, “Sorry, love,” with a small kiss of endearment against your temple and a gentle chide of your freezing toes.

Halfheartedly, you grumble against his chest, “It’s all your fault,” and he shushes you with a slow sweep of his fingertips against the dimples at the bottom of your spine.

“Go to sleep now,” he says, protectively securing his arm around your waist until your nose presses into his throat and your feet are intertwined with his at the end of this big bed. “I won’t take the covers any longer.”

You press your fingertips to his chest, listening to his heartbeat as the two of you drift into sleep again. The wind outside calms to a mere caress among the leaves as night dims to the pink haze of the morning.

Even when you wake and there is a sleepy smile on Jimin’s face, the blankets still wrapped around you and miles of empty space to the side of you, you choose to be close to him. That is, until you notice the covers stolen and wrapped around Jimin’s whole body one more time. “Please, tell me this is a joke.” you whisper, looking at the peaceful angel. He won’t change a bit, you thought, as you try to unwrap him carefully from his blanket safety.


Damn you Park Jimin.

- Nageoire

Spilled ink

It’s 12:01; there is a scratching at my throat. The unmistakable sound of unwritten words fighting for release. 

I don’t want a love with soft edges. I want a love with passion, with nights spent in a hazed frenzy of kissing to soft cuddles under the moonlight. I want stamped passports, tanned skin, salty hair and our room to smell like surf wax and passion. I want to spend days travelling through sand and hilltops, taking photos and singing Ben Howard songs with her.  I want midnight bonfires and philosophy by the stars; I want to exchange favourite novels and sandy sheets.  Theodore Twombly said that even if you come home late, whisper your thoughts into that place between dreaming and awake, because I love the way you see the world. 

That is my kind of love.

Never define yourself, for a definition excludes the possibility of change. You are an ever-changing soul, possible of growth in unimaginable proportions. Do not ever settle for being “pretty”, you were not meant to be pretty; you were meant to raise buildings to the ground. So my future daughter, attract them by the way you live; however you chose that to be.

Education will teach you about atoms, it will try to explain the sensation of burning skin and the way a thousand universes can perish between the end of her fingertips and your skin. Her thighs will make you forget your calculus homework; you will suddenly understand the meaning of Euneirophrenia. 

What education will not define is that some movies will portray grief as unimaginable drowning in tears, but in reality you will not be like Alice, you will not escape through locked doors on the back of water leaking from your eyes. I want someone who understands the ability of the world to ensnare and chain you to the ocean floor, because C.S. Lewis told me that grief is much like fear, and i’m terrified.