yoongi gives namjoon his heart on a cold october night, breaths mingling as they sit together in a vast field under a canopy of stars.
“here,” he says simply, because he’s never been good with words, moreso when he’s with namjoon. his cheeks are flushed though, and he can’t look namjoon in the eyes as he holds out a small cardboard box between them, his heart tucked inside, alive and beating. yearning.
namjoon takes it with tentative hands, but his fingers brush with purpose against yoongi’s as he takes the proffered box. he doesn’t bother with words, no customary thank you or any of the sort, and yoongi’s grateful for that. he prefers the silence that envelops them right now, distant echoes of crickets and the muffled beating of yoongi’s heart the only sounds that break through the mellow gloom.
after a moment (yoongi isn’t sure how long; time is only vaguely important to him right now, not when he’s given up the biggest part of himself– the only part of himself that matters), yoongi scoots closer so that his knees are pressed flush against namjoon’s, and he looks up at him through his lashes. “don’t break it,” he murmurs, only half-sarcastic. “i only have that one.”
namjoon blinks at him, looking impossibly young with the box in his hands, thumb smoothing over the lid like he’s soothing the wild thumping inside, because even after all these years, namjoon still makes yoongi nervous, makes his heart beat like crazy with how impossibly, hopelessly and recklessly in love he is with namjoon.
“i won’t.” namjoon promises, and for yoongi, that’s good enough. so he smiles and eases himself away, instead lying on the damp grass, hands tucked behind his head like a pillow. his chest feels oddly hollow, but he knows he’ll get used to it, just like how his mother did, along with his father, how they have each other’s hearts sealed and locked away, only theirs to cherish in their most private of moments.
yoongi doesn’t expect namjoon to give away anything, much less his heart. the conversations they’ve had, the smiles they’ve shared, the glances they’ve met halfway even when they’re in the opposite ends of the room– yoongi thinks those are enough. they’re enough for him to convince himself that possibly, maybe–
“penny for your thoughts?” namjoon says at the same time he places a glass casing right on top of yoongi’s chest. the container is decorated intricately so yoongi can’t see through it, but the solid weight of it, along with the constant rhythm he knows only too well, is enough to have yoongi sitting up, hands closing around the glass.
“what–” he stumbles with his words, and when he feels his throat practically closing over until he can barely make a sound, he tilts his head up at namjoon, who is smiling at him like he hasn’t given away the most important part of himself too.
“don’t break it,” namjoon says, and despite the emotion choking up yoongi from the inside, he can’t help but scoff at him. “i only have that one.”
yoongi ducks his head, his face softening from the frown he’s trying to maintain just so he won’t give in to the burning saltiness behind his eyes. he settles the glass casing on his lap, hands wrapping around the container like he never wants to let go.
“okay.” he says after a pause, not as smoothly as namjoon has, because he’s never been good with promises, finds the thought of commitment one of the most suffocating places to ever find yourself in. but (and there’s always a but, always an exception when namjoon’s involved), yoongi thinks that this– having namjoon’s heart the same way namjoon has his, alive and beating and yearning, always yearning– this, he can deal with.
this, yoongi can easily fall into, just as easily as falling for namjoon had been.
“There is a secret place. A radiant sanctuary. As real as your own kitchen. More real than that. Constructed of the purest elements. Overflowing with the ten thousand beautiful things. Worlds within worlds. Forests, rivers. Velvet coverlets thrown over featherbeds, fountains bubbling beneath a canopy of stars. Bountiful forests, universal libraries. A wine cellar offering an intoxi cation so sweet you will never be sober again. A clarity so complete you will never again forget. This magnificent refuge is inside you. Enter. Shatter the darkness that shrouds the doorway… Believe the incredible truth that the Beloved has chosen for his dwelling place the core of your own being because that is the single most beautiful place in all of creation.” ― Mirabai Starr, Interior Castle
There was no battle to be fought today, and yet he finds himself gazing at the constellations with Lancer--Diarmuid. The King has to admit that although they may become enemies in the future, he enjoys their companionship. And thus, a little something is slipped into their hand; a necklace of white gold with a single charm in the shape of a feather. The charm itself is brushed with metal but its true nature is a lapis crystal, a symbol of honour and strength.
what does he say to it all ━ the quiet intimacy of this moment , canopy of stars above their heads , and his hand resisting the urge to reach out and hold the other servant’s ? surely , it is such a rare pleasure to delight in the company of an adversary , one that in the beginning was met with doubt and fear that their alliance would be for naught but the betrayal of him and his master . it seemed too good to be true . it still does , really ━ he has yet to banish the memory of the events of a few nights prior ; every time his mind wanders to it he cannot help but blush and yearn for a repeat of those events .
the knight turns on his side , cushioned by a bed of grass , and looks at him ━ admires him . before so much as he opens his mouth to make conversation , a necklace is delivered into his hand , a most dainty charm hanging from it . gazing upon the gift , he is overwhelmed with questions ; lost in a sea of emotions . a war like this is the last place he would ever imagine receiving such a gift . he scarcely knows why it is bestowed to begin with , and he feels compelled to ask .
“ gilgamesh … ‘tis a most beautiful gift ye’ve offered me , but … i cannot accept this . i hardly consider meself worthy o’ gifts , “ he says , and stops himself before he can say more . he is inclined to imply he is unworthy of receiving gifts from him specifically , but be it from his lord or from the object of his affections , he would scarcely know what to do with them . he is a servant , after all ━ one that had not foreseen such kindness in such unexpected circumstances .
We stayed in this converted train carriage last week in Powys, Wales and it was utterly magical.
You should check out the Canopy and Stars website for cooky, unusual places to stay in the UK. You can stay in a treehouse, yurt, Safari tent and all manner of converted barns/vehicles/shepherds huts and even hobbit style homes!
I am having some Cowboy Husbands feels so I just want to purge them before I go to bed
Like. Don’t imagine Billy telling Goody about home, or at least where home was before Goody came along and became the definition and the epitome of home for Billy, about the hazy taste of red bean treats on his tongue or a mother tongue that is slowly becoming unfamiliar outside of thought itself. Or how some times when they pass through towns and he happens onto some dried persimmons, he spends almost everything on him to buy them up only to find that when he gets back to Goody’s side, Goody has used up almost everything he owns to buy them for Billy.
Don’t think about Goody, on nights under a canopy of stars and veins buzzing with opium and the last of the whisky, telling Billy about New Orleans, the streets and the people and the food and how he climbed the balcony of his family plantation when he was eight just to see if he could see all the way to France and how his drawl gets more pronounced as he loses himself further in the memories and how he slips into French mid sentence and doesn’t even know he is doing it.
Absolutely don’t think about them sharing a spliff while they are each lost in memories of things that will never come back. Or how Goody decided he wanted to try something new, turned to Billy, drawing him in by his shirt and shotgun his exhale. Definitely don’t think about how that exhale turned into an inhale that turned into tasting smoke and ash and chasing tang on tongue, and how they only remembered to breathe when spots danced in their vision.
Don’t imagine how Goody saw a bright red silk ribbon in the marketplace and immediately thought of the many ways it could have a practical use in their lives. Such as tying hair up. Or tying wrists to bed posts. Or making a pretty little bow wrapped around the base of Billy’s erection.
(Seriously. Don’t see the image of Billy noticing Goody being raptured by the ribbon and buying it for him, even though he is confused as to what Goody would want with it)
Don’t think of them with their sleep raspy voice, whispering good mornings to each other and neither one wanting to get out of bed or be particularly inclined to release the other from octopus death grips.
//for reals if you have read thus far, kudos to you I need sleep kthxbai//
The light she emits vanquished the shadows and he welcomed such brilliance, but how long could he selfishly covet the sun before her blinding light scorched his fingertips.
In turn, she embraced the darkness and eagerly sought him through the canopy of stars. Taking from the sirens, from her lips came the song of lamentation, seeking him in this veil of twilight; she hopes it would guide him into her awaiting arms.
Harry Potter’s first child is… fighting butterflies while eating chocolate frogs… getting excited looks and questions from other kids… feeling all kinds of pressure to live up to his name… terrified of where he will be sorted but joking about it… and he is so, so excited that it’s hard to breathe…
James Sirius Potter is on the Hogwarts Express… and tonight, under a canopy of magical stars and floating candles… Headmistress Minerva McGonagall will hear a name called… one she called herself years ago, never knowing… and smile a tight, watery smile at…
summary: slow dancing; you attend your brother’s wedding and you’re currently slow dancing under a canopy of flowers and stars. Out of the blue you ask Taekwoon if one day you’ll get married and it has a disastrously beautiful effect.
The night air was warm, mid-summer warm. The kind of warmth were you could wander your neighbourhood in just a t-shirt and yet you still craved the warmth of a human being. The night was still too, the only sounds were the small party that you were a part of. The sun had set only an hour ago and the world had been cast into a magical glow when the fairy lights had been turned on and the twinkling of music began.
You were currently dancing under a canopy of flowers, your eyes wondering over the beautiful colours; magenta, peach and sky blue. The night was truly beautiful and you were honoured to be apart of it.
“Do you think this will be us someday?” You asked as you continued to twirl around the small dance floor under the canopy of flowers and stars. Two strong hands rested on your lower back and guided you around the polished wood, his soft voice humming gently in your ear.
You glanced up to see Taekwoon’s questing gaze, you smiled up at him, “What do you mean?” He asked as the two of your began to sway.
“This,” You gestured to the grand ceremony around you; various family members dancing past you with blissful smiles on their faces. Since you were a little girl weddings had been your favourite family occasion, spending the day with your family merrily celebrating a happy union, “Marriage.”
You watched as Taekwoon’s face burst into a picture of joy, his eyes began to twinkle brighter than the stars above your heads, his lips turning upwards into the most joyous of smiles. The grip on your lower back tightened and he brought you even closer to his body.
“I would want nothing more than to make you Mrs. Jung.” He whispered and you grinned up at him, butterflies swarming in your stomach and tears threatening to spill over your cheeks; you had done enough crying when your brother had said I do at the alter earlier on in the day.
“You better buy me a ring then.” You whispered as you stopped dancing and reached up on your tiptoes to place a loving kiss on Taekwoon’s plush lips. The kiss was swift and fleeting but it held a thousand promises, the most prominent was a promise to make him happy for the rest of his life; to give him the family he so desperately wanted.
He chuckled and removed one hand from your lower back, pushing away a stray strand of hair that had fallen from your fancy updo before reaching behind him and grasping one of hands that was wound around his neck. He linked fingers with you and brought it back down to shoulder level, your arms resting comfortably. With a happy grin he began to lead you around the dance floor again, the two of you chuckling and laughing. Your hair flew in the wind, more hair falling from the updo and your tight fitting dress with the waterfall skirt splayed in a full circle as you slow danced your way around the other wedding guests.
You were both aware that everyone was looking at you, knowing that in a few months time they would all be gathered again to celebrate your wedding. However Taekwoon couldn’t keep his eyes off you, studying the way your lips gradually grew into a wider grin, the squeals of delight that left your lips when he spun you around. The way your hair flew in the soft wind and the itching of his fingers to remove the pins and let the whole thing fly. He had watched you the entire day, happily conversing with various members of your family, laughing, smiling and most of all looking confident in your beautiful dress. He had known it for a while but today had cemented it, he wants nothing more than to make you his wife for the rest of his life.
summary: “You mean more to me than you’ll ever know. So how can I take the chance that I’ll lose that? What would I do if you know who I am underneath the mask doesn’t match up to how you think of Ladybug?” - Ladybug confesses her fears, Marinette spreads her wings, and the stage is under a canopy of stars winking down at them. a/n: Oh look. A reveal fic. Because that’s never been done by anyone before. ^_^ Hope you enjoy!
Whisked away by the lull of Parisian nights, they leapt through the cobblestone streets and across the arched rooftops with a wild, reckless abandon. Not without rhyme or reason, of course, for the two of them were the eyes in the shadows, the angels in the skies that protected people from the literal nightmares. However, the way of good intentions came from youthful rebellion crafted and mended together with a welding purpose or cause.
This particular night started as a race, then a gamble on each other’s pride. Hopping from point-a to stretch-b, surprising the other within the nooks and crannies of the streets with no names. The names blended together and splattered a new identity with mannerisms and characteristics, and Ladybug honestly couldn’t tell the difference without the smells or looks anymore.
Eventually, they reached a respite. Chat Noir perched, concealed within a shadowed part of the Eiffel Tower’s infrastructure, whilst she took a step out into the city of light, and basked in the gentle hum of the cars below.
“Are you tiring yet, my Lady? I think you should rest a while, even allow me the pleasure of carrying you. Maybe good luck doesn’t extend to natural talent after all?”
She turned to see that familiar smirk playing on those lips, and folded her arms. “You are sweet to offer, Chat. But they say cats are tricky to reveal the truth, and you’ve never laid anything out without there being another meaning. Perhaps it’s you that’s tired?”
A laugh escaped her lips, and their banter ends on a high.
Ladybug sighed as she sat down, dangling her legs in the open air. The cityscape breezes whistled around her feet, urging her to retreat to the safety of the inside, but she had never been one to listen to nature.
“It’s… been over a year now, hasn’t it?”
“Mm.” His gentle hum grew louder as he took a seat beside her.
Ladybug folded her hands in her lap. “Do you think we’re any closer to finding where these attacks are coming from? So we can…”
summary: Sometimes, all it took was one, single phone call to make someone’s day that little bit brighter. a/n: So, did you know that a number of Chinese adoption sites, books, and other such related items often use ladybugs on them? Considering Marinette is a Chinese-French teenager, I decided to write this. Hope you all enjoy!
Winter had embraced the city of Paris overnight, wiping the slate clean and the cobblestone streets in flakes of white. Grey overcast clung to the once-blazing Autumn sunsets, and whilst rare, the canopy of stars that dotted through the skies suddenly vivified tenfold.
Marinette clutched the cup of tea closer to her chest as she watched the slow snowfall. The steam rose up, making her chest warm, and she could almost forget about the city aging before her.
She smiled as she felt a pair of large, warm hands on her shoulders, and a chin resting atop her head.
A/N: So I was listening to this song by Dodie Clark and I HAD to write a little Snowbaz drabble. Enjoy!
There they lay–the vampire and the boy with wings and a tail–on their backs in the dewy grass, silently taking in the view above them. A canopy of stars pierced the inky sky, winding and twinkling in their celestial dance of centuries.
“We should go to the moon, Simon,” yawned the pale boy with silky black hair.
“It looks peaceful up there. Among all those stars.”
“M-hm,” the golden boy snuggled against him and lay his head on his shoulder.
“It’s dark,” Baz chuckled. “Like my soul.”
“Oh, shut up.” Simon’s laughter joined his, like music.
After a few minutes of silence, he spoke up again. “Baz. Your soul isn’t dark.”
“Humph,” Baz sneered his opinion of that. “I’m a bloody vampire, Snow. A monster.”
Simon lay his arm on Baz’s chest and fiddled with the collar of his jumper. “How many times have we got to go over this? You’re not a monster.”
“I drink blood. I’m a walking corpse.”
“You’re brave and a hero and you’re not a murderer. You have a soul. You’re so alive, Baz. You’re my boyfriend and I love you,” Simon murmured.
Baz closed his eyes.
“What did I ever do to deserve you?”
“Well,” said Simon, “you were probably a right git in another life.”
They laughed again.
“To hell with space,” he almost crooned, brushing a hand over Simon’s cheek, “I’ve got my own personal galaxy.”
He felt the golden boy’s face flame under his touch.
“I-I-I don’t need the stars,” he stammered, with a cheeky smile. “They’re all in your eyes.”
“Shut your cheesy mouth, Simon.” Baz snapped, leaning his head down and giving both their mouths something better to do than fuck up the moment with stupid cliches.
They kissed until their heads were swimming and they were truly starstruck.
As the shrooms kicked in, I felt beads of sweat pushing through the pores on my hands. I turned to look at Deston to see he was watching me. His eyes were so dilated they had become all but entirely black, with only a skinny rim of his usual gray-blue. I was Alice, teetering along the edges of the rabbit holes of his pupils, tempted to let myself fall, to land somewhere so deep within him even he had not yet reached it. It made him seem so vulnerable it frightened me, causing me to turn away, and I began watching the sky above me morph into an image that transcends any explanation I could ever give. The drugs injected life into every star, and they reached out to each other, clasping each others’ twinkling hands. They became a spider web of light, dancing to the rhythm of the universe. We lied there, under the canopy of the stars, as a god I didn’t know if I believed in strung them together, like diamonds on a necklace. I felt the earth breathe beneath me, and I breathed with it.
excerpt from Darling by me
I wrote a book. Special thanks to my best friend who has actually taken mushrooms and helped me write this.