it is the air i breath

It fucking hurts him to do this. It really does because they’re like family. Blood brothers or some shit term that they learned after watching a movie when they were nine and made them feel closer than anything.

So it hurts.

But Sana is his actual sister. His baby sister who has spent the past few nights walking around the house like a zombie without an ounce of the sass he’s come to adore. This is Sana and Sana comes above all.

Yousef: hey bro, can I come over and chill?

Elias lets out a breath of air, thumbs moving absently as he puts just a fraction of what he wants to say to his best friend in text form.

Elias: i dont think so. we can go out or whatever later, but you need to keep your distance from my place.

There are several long seconds of silence and Elias can almost picture Yousef’s face as he blinks at the screen. Usually texting a warning that he wanted to come over was courtesy. Usually they didn’t even do that and just showed up at each other’s place. So yeah, he can only imagine the look of confusion.

Yousef: the other boys were there earlier… has something happened? I won’t eat in front of you guys or anything if that is what you’re worried about. I actually haven’t eaten all day. Habit i guess.

Elias thins his lips. The door next to his own opens and Sana walks out and pads down the hallway, not even sparing him a glance through his opened door.

Elias: No. 

Yousef: Elias? what the fuck?

Elias remembers the ways in which the boys teased his earlier this afternoon- the way they chanted “jealous” and laughed, rightfully ignorant of the real reason he is struggling with wanting anything to do with Yousef right now. 

He types out, sana is the best person in the world and then deletes it, and then i hope noora is worth the tears on my sister’s face, and then deletes it again.

He sighs and scrapes a hand over his head when Sana pads back to her room in silence; a ghost in her own home.

Elias: just stay away from us right now.

soundcloud.com
Listen to Eddie Vedder's haunting rendition of "I'm So Tired" | AFAS Live, Amsterdam, 27 May 2017

“Soon after, Cornell and Vicky spoke on the phone, with the singer slurring his words, admitting he may have taken too much Ativan and repeatedly saying “I am just tired” before abruptly hanging up.“ - Rolling Stone Magazine, 19 May 2017

💔

Evidently fraught with inconsolable grief, Eddie only begins singing at 2:12. Anguish fills the corners of the music hall. 😔

💔

“I’m So Tired” by Fugazi

Out here I can barely see my breath
Surrounded by jealousy and death
I can’t be reached, only had one call
Dragged underneath, separate from you all

This time I’ve lost my own return
In spite of everything I’ve learned
I hid my tracks, spit out all my air
Slipped into cracks, stripped of all my cares

I’m so tired; sheep are counting me
No more struggle, no more energy
No more patience and you can write that down
It’s all too crazy, and I’m not sticking ‘round.

It starts out dark, just dark. Then cold. Then quiet.
 A soft breeze trickles into my lungs. I gulp it up, filling my chest with it. It’s like refreshing ice water on a hot day. I open my eyes, relaxed by my own deep breaths, and observe the darkness around me. It’s empty and pure, but I feel like there’s something I’m missing. My eyes narrow, trying to penetrate the thick, black blanket.
 The air begins to move, rustling my fur. Against the quiet, it sounds almost like a pony whispering. Chills run down my spine. The wind picks up, and the whisper grows louder, though it doesn’t form any words. It multiplies around me. Two, four, ten, a hundred whispers are all saying the same nothingness but sounding slightly different, like they’re coming from a hundred different mouths. Then, to my terror, one of them shifts from whispering to muttering. It spreads like a virus around me. Invisible mares and stallions sound like they’re surrounding me in the darkness, muttering incomprehensible vowels. I begin to imagine that I’m in a lightless room full of ponies, or maybe that I’m surrounded by a veil, like I’m on stage and I’ve managed to wrap myself up in the show curtain. I spin around, but I can’t seem to untangle myself. The darkness moves. A pony just outside is running his hoof along the curtain, trying to find me. I cry out for help, but my voice is gone. All the sweet, cool air that was in my lungs moments before is now thick and humid. I’m being suffocated. I cry out again with the same result. The voices around me grow angry and loud. My neck prickles as though they’re all talking about me, complaining about something I’ve done, ranting about me to one another in their shapeless language. Do I know them? I imagine my friends standing out there, glaring at me while I struggle in my cocoon. The voices keep multiplying, and now they’re roaring like a crowd. Like the ocean.
 A light clicks on in front of me. I’m no longer wrapped in darkness, but in water. I can’t find ground with my hooves. I’m sinking backwards. When I’ve oriented myself, I realize that I’m in a deep lake, sinking down to the unknown, endless bottom. The light looks like it might be the moon, rippling above me. And there’s a dock. I think I’ve fallen off the edge of it by accident, and for some reason I can’t remember how to swim.
 A silhouette slides in front of the moon. It’s a unicorn, I think. Perhaps he can use his magic to help me. He could simply levitate me out of the water. I reach out to him and try once again to call out for help, but the water floods into my open mouth. “Please,” I try to say, “help me! I’m drowning! Save me!” The words turn into useless bubbles of air, climbing up, up, and popping soundlessly on the surface.
 The unicorn shakes his head, and that’s when I realize I can see his face. He has chocolate mousse colored hair, topped with a newsboy type cap. He has a goatee, sharp and defined, sticking out of his chiseled chin. And his eyes, his bright blue, piercing eyes, are staring directly at me. He sees me, I know it. I can see recognition all over his thin, kind face. My heart leaps. Any minute now, he’ll reach one slender hoof into the water and pull me out with ease. I smile at him, and he smiles back. But something is wrong… Something in his smile is sad, pitying even. I call his name with the last bit of air I have left. He shakes his head. I try to move, to kick at the water, to make ripples on the surface that might say what I cannot. My wings and legs are sluggish, like they don’t want to listen to my brain. I can’t move, I can’t breathe. All my energy reaches out to the stallion above me, but he just turns around and walks away. No, no! The edges of my vision turn black. The moon fades away. The darkness surrounds me again…

 I gasp awake and shoot upright. The last bits of the stallion’s name drip from my tongue. I’m panting and sweating and crying. My dream begins to lose hold of me, fading away as though it’s scared of touching the morning light that seeps through my cloud walls. Cold, sticky sweat mats my fur and chills my skin. The feel of it, so sharp and real, is welcome. I know, with my fur automatically fluffing up against the cold, that I’m awake. This is real. The dream was just a dream. My heartrate begins to slow back to normal.
 It’s not a recurring nightmare, but it’s a familiar subject. I squeeze my eyes tight and force myself to shove thoughts of that stallion away. He’s not here, I remind myself. I’m here. I’m the only one here. I’m alone… no, I’m independent. I’m an adult, and adults get out of bed in the morning and take showers, so that’s what I should do.
 The cloud is like a floating cave with only one opening, a sort of window-slash-door looking out over Ponyville. I stand right on the precipice of it, letting the sun wake me up. It’s warm and dry and beautiful, the complete opposite of my nightmare. It’s early, but already there are ponies trotting around town. They greet each other with smiles, open shops and knock on friends’ doors. The loud crashing roar from my dream seems silly now, with this peaceful morning that almost tinkles like bells. I meditate on it all for a few long minutes, leaning against the wall. Finally, I gather enough energy to lift up my front hoof and tap gently on the cloud beside me. With a soft rumble, it releases a steady stream of rain just above my head. I close my eyes and let it fill my mane and flow down my neck, pushing any trace of grime from my fur, and the last bits of my dream are soaked up into the cloud floor below.
 I shake off loose water droplets, wishing briefly that I had a hairdryer, or even electricity, in my simple cloud home. I stuff a notebook, pen, and bag of bits into my grey saddle bag. Then I slip on one of the sweaters that’d doubled as my blanket last night, strap the bag around my waist, and take off into the morning sky.
 "You should report this to the police or guards or whatever authority there is in town.“ Anonymous’ question wastes no time in appearing the moment I’m out the door. I huff at it.
 "Geez,” I say, rubbing my temples. “I’ve just woken up. You’d think I’d get an easier question.” I bite my lip, mulling it over aloud. “No… I mean, if I reported it to the authorities… I’m not sure if that’s really something they’d handle. Usually the people who handle problems in Ponyville are fellow friends or the Mane Six. You know, Twilight and her crew. It’s a small town. Abusive relationships…” The words hitch on their way out of my throat. “They’re… uh…” I can’t seem to find the word. Uncommon? Personal? Not serious? Maybe I should go to the authorities, I think. But I shove that idea from my head. “No,” I repeat, firmly this time. “If I were her, I wouldn’t want anypony meddling in my business. I don’t know her, it’s not my place to step in and overcomplicate things. Besides, I hardly remember what they look like, anyways. How would that sound to the Mayor?” I mock my own voice, filled with sarcasm. “Yes, Mayor Mare, there’s some ponies who were fighting last night. No, I don’t know their names or what they look like. No, nopony got seriously injured. Yep, just an argument. No, I just wanted to let you know. Cool, thanks.” I scoff.
 I touch down just outside my favorite coffee shop, Summer Song Café. A line is already forming, so I hurry inside to claim my place. By the time I see her, it’s already too late. As I stand frozen in line, I consider taking off and foregoing my morning cup of wake-up. I hurriedly glance to the door, but ponies are crowding in now. It’d be far too awkward if I were to push them away and leave. The barista has probably seen me by now. What if I leave and her feelings are hurt? Could I come back later and say I’d forgotten something at home? But the line would be too long by then, and what if I’m spotted by-
 "My goodness,“ says Merriweather, the store owner. "What happened to you?”
 The mare from last night laughs nervously. “You know me, always running into things.” Her left eye is swollen and blue. Bandages cover her knees and chin. Merriweather purses her lips doubtfully. The mare clears her throat. “Two venti mochas, please. Hot.” Bits hit the counter.
 "Alright, but I’m throwing in a bag of ice, free of charge.“
 The mare turns red and begins looking around anxiously. Just as I expected, she seems to fear attention. "You’re so kind, but that’s not-”
 A bag of ice clangs on top of the bits. There’s no arguing with the hardened café owner. The mare shuts up immediately, lowering her head. She takes the ice and shuffles over to wait for her order. It was dark last night. Maybe she won’t recognize me. The line scoots forward. Two hot venti mochas appear at the counter, nestled in a drink carrier. She takes them and limps over to the silverware counter, then carefully removes the lids and begins measuring spoonfuls of sugar into her drinks.
 I take my time ordering my black drip coffee. Sure, I could get a grande as always, but do I want a tall today? Should I get a buttery croissant or go with a classic donut? I pretend the bits are spilled in the bottom of my bag and fish them out one by one. The only thing that keeps me from striking up a conversation with one of the baristas is the pressure of impatience from the line behind me. However, despite my best efforts, I retrieve my grande coffee and warm croissant, only to turn around and see her still standing there, stirring her drink absently. Potential futures start running through my head. What if I’m passing by and she says something snarky like, “Thanks for the help,” or, “Nice seeing you again?” What if she points a hoof at me and screams, “YOU RAN AWAY WHEN I NEEDED YOU!” in front of everypony? What if her boyfriend bursts in and demands that she hurry up with the drinks? I walk as slowly as I can - without being noticeable, of course - over to the counter.
 Somehow, none of my imaginary possibilities include the actual future: She looks up as I’m grabbing my napkin and her eyes fall not on me, but on the napkin dispenser. I freeze. She blinks at it a few times but doesn’t seem to really see it. For a few seconds, I simply stare at her with a napkin hanging out of my mouth, and she stares at the dispenser inches from my face. Nothing happens. She looks back down without a word and starts replacing the lids on her drinks.
 Now I WANT to say something. How are you? How’s your boyfriend? That sure is a lot of coffee! I bet you’re treating some pretty nasty hangovers. How’s your eye? How’s your knee? Do you remember last night? Do you remember me? I’m sorry…. I open my mouth, close it, and open it again. I gather up as much courage as I have, but I glare down at the counter top instead. All that courage is layed out in front of me like bits, and I’ve counted them out only to realize that I don’t have enough. The only sound I can muster squeezes forcibly out of my throat. It could be the beginning of the word, “I…” which could be the beginning of a whole sentence, theoretically. But it stops there, and nobody hears it in the din of the cafe. She takes no notice. She just slips the carrier handle into her mouth and leaves. I hesitate and watch her out the window. When she trots off, I thank my lucky stars that she’s heading opposite of my destination.

 Living alone has the tendency to create a little bit of a routine. With nopony around to disrupt my schedule, I’ve found that I end up doing the same things every morning and evening. Sometimes entire days and weeks become twins of the ones before, and I know that their future selves will be their triplets. It’s comforting, in a way. Secure, monotonous. That’s part of the reason the ask blog scares me, if I let myself admit it. I’ve never seen somepony with an ask blog sitting down to drink coffee every morning in the same place, casually answering whatever questions pop up. The ponies who get real questions are the ones who are being chased by some obscure arch nemesis, or who are suddenly pregnant, or who have unwelcome roommates that spontaneously show up with a big bag of conflict. The only times ask blogs follow boring ponies with no drama, no massive change and complex story line, is if those ponies willingly beckon them. And unless those ponies are incredibly unique and extroverted, to the point where they’re borderline gimmicky, they don’t have much success. I didn’t sit down at a laptop and beckon followers with it. I’m not sugary and cute, or have insane amounts of fur all over my body. So if this thing happened to me, it must mean that something is coming. At least, that’s my logic so far.
 I ponder these things over my notebook while sipping at my bitter black coffee, which I’ve convinced myself that I enjoy. “Black and bitter, just like my soul,” as I like to say. I take the pen into my mouth and doodle heavily shaded hearts next to my scribbled thought process. My eyes scan over the overlapping, crossed out and circled words over and over. Pregnant. That one is scratched out. Evil nemesis I haven’t met? I think of Evil Laughter and sort of chuckle inwardly. A few hundred question marks surround that one. Dangerous adventure? That doesn’t really sound like me, but it’s one of the better options. Roommate? That one is circled, but then crossed out since I realized that anypony who’s insane enough to want my makeshift cloud cave is also insane enough to be kicked out of it immediately. Mental problems? I think of Lola Cloudmaker, a pegasus so scared of the ground that she refuses to leave her little cloud in the sky for anything, even for the thousands of asks trying to convince her to. I stare at my back hooves, resting easily on the dirt below my park bench. Guinea pig therapy flashes before my eyes. A deep pit of dread begins to open up in my gut.
 I get up and toss my empty coffee cup into the nearest recycling bin, followed with a crumpled page torn from my notebook.

Question from Anonymous. Featuring/Mentioning @askmerriweather and @ask-lola-cloudmaker

Mermay Part 3 - Orca Nocturne breaching the water moments before crashing onto Shark!Chim and Manta!Samil

Huge tunnel ends in light
Like banks of clouds they gather
See massive shape of flesh
Swimming giants in the clear
The mightiest comes to me
I’m on the wing, wide open
They teach me how to fly
Slowly moving in the air

So much told with no words at all

Powerful presence for only speech
Breath

Nocturne belongs to @galaxiabunny , thank you!

Bucky x Water Bender!Reader
(1)(2) (3)(4) (-5-)

warning: mentions of drowning (past)

The only thing she knows for certain, it feels like she is drowning. She gasps for air but her chest is tight, her lungs screaming in protest, her throat rough and closing in on itself. Her heart beats faster as she starts to panic more the less air she is able to breathe into her body. She opens her eyes to see the ceiling coming into focus, eyes darting around placing where she is. Her heart still beating against her ribs, threatening to burst out. Slowly her mind realizes she is in no current danger.

Water falls to the floor all around her bed. The sudden slap as it makes contact with the wooden floor causes her to jump. She realizes she must have been bending the water protectively around herself as her nightmare plagued her sleep.

Her gasps slow, allowing deeper breaths and her heart rate to slowly even out. Tears run down her face as she sits up in bed and pulls the water from the floor storing it back in her pouch. Her frustration boils under her skin as she clips the cap back on the bag. There is no reason for these feelings. No reason for the panic or pain she just experienced, it has been years since the incident. She cries harder because she thought she was doing better.

“Fuck” a broken sob passes her lips, hoarse from the strain on her throat. She huffs out a sigh and drags her hands down her face, trying to get herself to calm down completely.

“It will be fine, you are fine. It’s all fucking fine.” The mantra on loop until her tears subside and her breathing evens out. She glances at the clock, red numbers glaring at her, 3:45, not even four hours. “Better than nothing,” she tells herself as her shoulders fall.

It has only been a few days since the night she spent in Bucky’s room. He knows nothing of her nightmares and if Bucky doesn’t know, no one knows. Out of all the team she trusts him most. But her nightmares, she knows everyone has their own struggles and she doesnt like the thought of adding her burdens on their shoulders too. She justifies it by how little it happens anyway.

This time she assumes has something to do with her training the previous morning.

She shakes her head, groan breaking the otherwise silence of the room. “Thats the last time I go a few rounds with Thor and his lightning,” she lets out a sigh and drags herself out of bed. It is 4am now and she could use some time with a punching bag.

To no one’s surprise, Bucky is already down in the training room. Sweat glistens off his bare chest, his shirt lays atop the pile of his things in the corner.

He looks up and sees her as she enters the training room. He can tell she is not feeling like herself immediately. Spending so much time together has given him an inside to her tells and body language in general, she’s upset and her body is worn out. He grabs his stuff and swiftly swings it over his shoulder. She looks at him in tired amusement that quickly changes to shock when he scoops her up over his shoulder as well.

“Buck. What. The. Fuck.” She says half angry half amused, mostly too his ass, as thats all she can see currently.

“Something is up with you and I can tell you don’t want to talk bout it. But you’re too tired to train. So we are going to my room. Imma shower. And we are going to watch what ever weird show you want. Kay.” It isnt even a question, not that she could decline in the state she is in, but her body sinks in defeat.

Once Bucky feels she will not be fighting him on this, he pulls her out of fireman carry and into the same straddling hold he carried her the other night. Her legs wrap around his hips and arms around his shoulders, her face nuzzles into the crook of his neck and her body melts against his. His face is full of worry as his arms wrap around her more protectively and tight.

“I got you doll. You can trust me. I’ve got you.” He says softly into her hair, he can hear the soft sob and feel the tears she spills dripping against his skin.

They finally make it to his room where he gently lays her on his bed and hands her one of his sweaters. She takes it with a sad smile and puts it on. The sweater swamps her but she feels safe with his scent wrapping around her. She relaxes against the headboard as he quickly runs to the shower.

When he returns, she is curled up into a ball with the arms of the sweater pulled up against her face. She looks much more calm now. Face a little more at ease, shoulders relaxing, breathing and heart rate even. He sweeps the hair from her face and tucks it behind her ear careful not to nudge her or the hood of the sweater too much. Bucky settles in on his side of the bed and she reaches for him in her sleep, wrapping around his body mumbling incoherently as she settles into a comfortable spot. He gently wraps his arms around her and holds her until the sun rises in the sky.

She wakes to strong arms holding her, a steady heart beat thrumming against her ear, and the rise and fall of a chest breathing under her head. She feels warm and safe. When she finally opens her eyes, the sky is bright blue and the sun is shining through the window. Her eyes search the room and lock with Bucky’s. His smile is radiant, his expression is soft and welcoming.

Neither wanting to break the comfortable silence, their arms tighten around eachother and Bucky places a kiss on her cheek. She smiles as a blush tinges her cheeks. A soft laugh escapes his lips, barely vibrating through his chest. She lays her head back down on his chest and listens to the pattern of his heart beat.

Her voice is barely above a whisper when she starts to talk. “I drowned when i was younger, I was careless and the ocean unforgiving. A riptide dragged me into the ocean and I- I drowned,” tears are falling down her face against the cotton of Bucky’s shirt, her voice surprisingly even as she speaks. He brings one hand up to cup her head, slowly stroking through her hair, the other holding her tightly against his body a comforting action that allows her the strength to continue. “It took them awhile to get me back to land. And even longer to recessitate me. When they finally did, the water spilled from my lungs a wrapped itself around me. Ending up spiralling around my hands. I went in with no ability, came back from the dead with a very interesting one.” Her arms wrap tighter around him as she finishes talking. He can only assume the cause of her powers is also the cause of her lack of sleep. He leaves another kiss to her hairline and then gently guides her to face him with his hand on her chin. When she meets his eyes, shes expecting pitty or judgment.

All she sees is love and adoration.

Slowly, she leans up and places a chaste kiss upon his lips. Smiles break across both of their faces, so she leans in for another.

~×-×~

@ursulaismymiddlename

I want to stop feeling everything, I’m so tired why can’t I be numb for a second? I need air to breathe, I need to breathe. I need space. I’m doing stupid things.
I’m doing stupid things.

Once upon a time warp…

In a galaxy very, very, very, very, exceedingly far away, there lived a ruthless race of beings known as … Hydraballs.

Chapter Thirteen

The evil leaders of Planet Hydra, having foolishly polluted their precious atmosphere, have devised a secret plan to take every breath of air away from their peace-loving neighbor, Planet Carter.

Today is Princess Margaret’s wedding day. Unbeknownest to the princess, but knowest to us, danger lurks in the stars above…

If you can read this, you don’t need glasses.

Are you still reading this?

Seriously?

….

“Wait, Princess, I think you forgot to get married back there.”

“I’m not marrying that sorry excuse for prince or anyone else,” Princess Margaret says unpinning the heavy veil from her head as the dash lights up. “Get in if you’re coming, Mr. Jarvis.”

“Well, in that case, where is it that we are we going, Princess?” Jarvis asks. He folds his shiny, gold plated, metal limbs in perching delicately on the passenger’s seat nanoseconds before the ship lurches into the sky.

“Anywhere but here,” Margaret says.

“We need to move now.”

“Listen, sweetheart, I don’t take orders, I give ‘em.”

“Sweetheart,” Margaret says. Her eyes narrow, spine straightening vertebrae by vertebrae.

“Oh dear,” says Jarvis.

“you will address me as Your Royal Highness or Princess Margaret,” Margaret says. She glances around the Winnebago’s dirty red, white, and blue interior. Bucky the Red Manda’s tail bumps against the back of her legs and she considers stapling the damnable thing to the space-pleather covered seating.

“Captain Steve Rogers, One Starr to you, Princess,” Steve says crossing his arms over his chest.

“Hardly,” Margaret says, sitting down in the passenger’s seat of the Eagle One. “Mr Jarvis, if you please.”

The Winnebago is as old as the Hydraballs were the scourge of the galaxy. Which was to say pretty old, more or less. She never was much for metaphoricals.

“What are you doing?”

“Jarvis is going to pilot us away from Red Helmet and his merry band of Hydraballs, if you don’t mind, OnStar.”

… Author’s note: Blame @infinitypeggys I wanted to write more but ran out of spoons even with borrowing from the script for the intro lines. Ah well, if it makes someone smile it’s all worth what spoons I used.

Originally posted by drivingmradam

anonymous asked:

How about, jet pack blues, pete wentz :4

If you say Pete Wentz, I’m assuming you’d prefer no shipping?

And I’m trying to find my peace of mind
Behind these two white highway lines
When the city goes silent
The ringing in my ears gets violent

She’s in a long black coat tonight
Waiting for me in the downpour outside
She’s singing “Baby come home” in a melody of tears
While the rhythm of the rain keeps time

_____________________________________

“I’m fine. Really. I just needed a breath of fresh air.” Pete paused on the phone, letting the other person speak. He laughed. “What? Dude fuck off, that’ll never happen.” Another pause. “Yeah we can meet tomorrow. Okay. Later.” Pressing end call, Pete let out a breath, cheeks puffing up. He ran a hand through his hair.

It’d been a long year. Right out of Save Rock and Roll and the madness of coming off hiatus, they’d just kept writing. They already knew they were going to release a new album within the next year. 

It was good. It was… it was good. Tiring. In the years of the hiatus, Pete had brought himself together far better than he’d ever been. He didn’t like to admit it, but he’d grown up. He and Patrick still had areas they both needed to walk on egg shells, but it was better than it had been. The four of them were accomplishing things as team, less at odds than they’d been.

It was mostly silent in the park he sat at. Nothing but the sound of wind and the occasional car passing on the highway adjacent to the park. In some way it was peaceful, the sounds of LA and its bustle out of his mind, but the longer Pete sat, the more he noticed himself itching. There was so much to do. So much to consider. Where were they going. Pete sat for a long minute. Letting the itch get worse, the thoughts flood his head. A high pitched ringing took up residence in his head. He knew dissociation was only a moment away. 

Just then a girl passed on the sidewalk. Pete might not have noticed save for the sheer absurdity of wearing a black trench coat in the middle of summer in Los Angeles of all places. The park was barely shaded as it was. But there she was. Headphones in, coat draping down, short brunette hair bouncing with her steps. What could she possibly be doing?

She was like a beacon though. Pulling Pete out of his dangerous reverie. Come back she’d said to him. There’s so much more to tell. The girl walked on, unaware she’d passed Pete Wentz of Fall Out Boy, onto her own things. He smiled though looking out towards the east. As unlikely as it was, maybe rain could come.

I’m not taking anymore writing requests for now!

obbsessedturtle  asked:

an awesome buddy who likes my ships and answers my phone calls while at the arcade with a friend when I'm bored in traffic

Write a review of me

I would have stayed on the phone with you the whole way home if i wasn’t already out with friends because i love you and you’re amazing

Review of Turtturt even though you didnt ask: 

“The kind of soul that leaves you breathless and a way with words that gives you air to breath again. Kind, compassionate, talented and fun, a friend you’d never regret”

anonymous asked:

How would you describe the feeling of being in love?

“Describe the feeling of being in love?

The feeling of being in love is war.  

The first time I felt love - it came in the the feeling of being punched in the nose. It’s the sickly hot feel of blood and gravel underneath shoes, the tie around a throat that’s now too tight to breathe and the realization that with the to-the-quick nails and the struggle of loosening the tie and the sweet, sweet inhale of air - there’s still nothing reaching the lungs because it’s not the tie that’s too tight after all because for now - while the ground rises up and shoulders heave under an itchy wool school blazer - it’s the broken shards of heart that is piercing the lungs, and it’s snot and blood mixing together with tears. 

The second time I felt love, it was a punch to the jaw and the same inability to breathe, the same itch from the school blazer - but this time, there’s anger. It’s Shakespearean revenge expressed in a dirty trick on the night of the winter’s revelry as the cold winter wind bites and the shiver that races up the spine as the ghost-hounds howl.

The third time, the feeling of being in love was a gentle hand through hair, laughter and late-night conversations. It was a strange meeting on the street corner where he asks if you know that you have wings because it’s dark and the city has shut down because there’s been a blizzard, so for once - everything is quiet and you’re under a streetlight and he’s noticed because the light has reflected from the streetlight off of the snow. Love is the feeling of drinking too much without touching a drop of alcohol. It’s the shivering delight of a hand passing over flesh. It almost makes up for what happens later when the feeling of being in love becomes —

A late-night phonecall that screams through the dark and is almost left to go to voicemail. It’s the brisk ten block walk at four am when the city has given up its ghosts. It’s a ten foot hallway that takes an eternity to walk down and the struggle of anxiety in the jaws of the snake that has taken up residence in the hollowed-out ribcage. It’s the feeling of searching for a key to the bedroom and pulling out all the drawers in the kitchen, hearing them snick and lock in place when fully extended until pulling on one that is only decoration but the key is nowhere else and it has to be here - but the key is on the floor among the knives and used birthday candles that landed together saying 3 & 2 in some wicked joke.

The feeling evolves as the key weighs heavy in the hand as the snake slithers down the throat to weigh down the legs even as the too heavy key is held out as if showing someone that its been found.

The feeling of being in love is promises whispered that you’ll keep if they do, as the key scratches over the lock three times before it’s forced in place. It’s turning the doorknob and resting against the door with one hand pressed against it, willing life to be on the other side.

The feeling of being in love is stomach contractions and excess salivation building, of the room spinning and up becoming down and left now being right as the door is opened -

Relief.

It’s swallowing down the lump in your throat and trying to shift the weight of the world and wanting to yell but instead going through what is now routine as a needle is kicked away and care is taken and it’s relief and gratitude and listening to apologies while knowing that while he’s all right this time - like he was all right last time - and the time before - but next time - or the one after (because there’s always a next time, he doesn’t keep his promises) he won’t be —

And then love feels like grief.” 

Not an official posting, as I’m not 100% happy with this one. I’m looking for some constructive criticisms before I officially post it to my writing blog & Ao3!!!

WIP title - What I Wish I Could Have Done When I Found A Sad Sidon

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

The cool night air drifted into Zora’s domain from all directions. Sidon walked cautiously, careful not to wake anyone. As far as he could tell, the only Zora who was still awake - aside from the guards, of course - was the innkeeper, who was on the verge of falling asleep at his post. The Zora prince was practically alone with his thoughts as he stood at the base of his sister’s statue, gazing up at the etched appearance of her face.

The smile that always found its way to Sidon’s face was nowhere to be found. His expression was solemn as he scanned the statue, his eyes always finding their way back to hers. He sighed, crossing his arms with a small frown.

“Mipha…” He paused, taking another glance around him to ensure he wasn’t disturbing anyone else. “I wish you were here. You would know how to help with this… Calamity.” He breathed another sigh, readjusting the way his arms crossed in a way that was almost like he was hugging himself for support. “But I don’t. I feel so useless. It’s like the only thing I can do is keep everyone happy. But that doesn’t defeat Ganon. That doesn’t help Link, or Zelda, or… anyone.”

Keep reading

A Cat's Curiosity

♦️ fluff, sexy-ish

♦️ member: Taehyung

♦️ warnings: some violence, swears, slightly sexy talk/ moves

Reader pov:

First day of school, can’t wait…..said nobody ever. I stared at the big building made up of bricks, cement, and shitty air conditioning. How fun. The parking lot was full of diverse students.

“At least you won’t stand out.” I muttered to myself before slamming my car door shut and officially put my big girl pants on. With each step I took, my heart rate spiked with nerves and anxiety ready to comfort me at any given moment. Just breathe had become my new motto as of today.

The school door was pushed open by a small girl with silver hair and freckles scattered across her cheeks. I smiled politely and murmured a small “thank you” as a cool breeze blew my hair out of my face and behind me. My eyes scanned the halls before I felt a tap on my shoulder and without a word the girl pointed toward the office and was gone without a single peep.

I sighed slightly releasing the tension and put my head up and strutted into the office. A nice lady with glasses sat behind the counter and she greeted me kindly.

“How can I help you?”

“Yes um hi I’m y/n and I’m new.” I nervously wrung my fingers together.

“Ah lovely to meet you. Have a seat I’ll have your schedule out in a jiffy!” She exclaimed before bouncing, yes bouncing, into the office behind her. I blinked in surprise before plopping into the seat near the door with my arms and legs crossed. I nervously toyed with my necklace taking a deep breath to calm myself. Just then the door swung open spiking my now calm heart rate back up.

I attempted to look unstartled and turned my head to see two boys and a girl strut into the office confidently. The first boy and girl were obviously a couple with their hands interlocked. The girl was about his shoulder height with bright forest green irises and shoulder length blonde locks. The boy was at least a head taller than her with messy brown hair, and puppy brown irises to compliment. He flashed a smile that gave the sun a run for its money. The second boy was very tall towering over the couple and he was hot. He had dusty purple dyed locks and dark mocha irises and the most kissable lips I’d ever seen.

Both boys were adorned in black pants and leather jackets over top a tee shirt, while the girl wore a pale pink tee tied in a knot to one side, a pair of black leggings, and white running shoes to complete the look. It was an interesting sight for sure. The girl smiled apologetically at me as puppy eyes kissed her head softly. The purple haired boy smirked at his friend, who smacked his arm lightly, and his eyes noticed my form seated. He raised an eyebrow slightly, curious to who I was. We had a stare down before the sweet office lady had come back.

“Found it! Here you go miss y/n. I hope you have a wonderful day! Good luck!” She handed me my schedule with a wide grin and with a bow I was sliding past the now smirking dusty purple haired boy and the couple. I pushed open the heavy office door before quickly darting around the corner to rid of his scrutinizing gaze.

“Was it my hair? My outfit? It’s just a pair of skinny jeans and a slight pale blue crop top and adidas. Oh well I think I look good and nobody is gonna ruin my mood. Now where is my first class- I need a map.” I muttered before I spun on my heel and retraced my steps back into the office.

The girl turned to see me again and she smiled politely. I returned the grin before my eyes scanned the office looking fine a map. My kind of sight was blocked by a hand with a map in hand. I slowly gripped the map in my hand and found relief as my eyes met the forest green of the girl.

“Hi I’m Naomi, your y/n right? I overheard Janet call you that.” She grinned politely.

I nodded my head. “Yeah I am. Nice to meet you Naomi and thanks for the map.

Naomi smiled. “Of course. So you’re the new student huh? I remember when I was the new student it wasn’t pleasant. Anyway what’s your first class? I can show you if you’d like?”


“If you wouldn’t mind.” I smiled slightly as she grinned and hooked her arm through mine and led me down the hall toward first period - History. We walked inside and immediately I felt curious stares bore into my skin, but I had no time to register them as Naomi pulled around desks and chairs until she abruptly sat down at the third row table, and yes I counted.

Immediately she pulled out her notebook and flipped it open to a blank page. She set her pen parallel to the notebook and turned to me. I blinked at her precision and thought back to the boy she was with in the office. The two were so different yet they complimented each other so nicely. It was an interesting equation indeed, but I wasn’t about to question her. After all, she hasn’t pried into my life, why should I?

“So tell me about yourself.” She grinned resting her chin on her hands. I cleared my throat. “Well my parents just got transferred and in result so did I. Um I’m a junior in High school-”

“No, not that story. Your real story.” I blinked at her request. “You mean my hobbies?” I questioned head tilting. She snapped her fingers and pointed at me. “Bingo. How else am I supposed to be your friend if I know nothing about you?” Well she had a point. So I began to tell her what I enjoy doing and was pleasantly surprised to find out that she enjoyed a lot of the same things.

“No way! You enjoy skateboarding too? I would’ve never thought!” She exclaimed happily, eyes lighting up. “Yeah same with you!” She giggled at that. “A lot of people say that, but my boyfriend actually taught me how and not to brag but I’m getting pretty good. I can go on the big slope myself.“she straightened up and brushed imaginary dirt off her shoulders making us both burst into laughter all over again.

Once we had calmed down enough, I felt like it was a good time to ask the question that had been bothering me since this morning. “So that guy in the office he’s your boyfriend right? I didn’t want to assume but you did look like a couple and act like one.”

“No you are good! And to answer your question yes he is. His names Hoseok but everyone calls him Jhope. The other boy with us in the office that’s Taehyung, the boys call him V.”

My head tilted to the side. “Don’t ask why, I don’t know either. All the boys have at least one odd nickname. Speaking of the boys there they are now.” My head followed where her eyes were set and saw three boys walk into the room. Two of which were familiar to me. Taehyung and Hoseok, as Naomi called them, walked in with a third boy who had blonde styled hair and an intimidating aura around him. “That’s Namjoon, he’s the leader essentially. He looks intimidating but he’s really a giant marshmallow, all the boys are. Just don’t get on their bad side.” Well that just made me even more curious to what was their ‘bad side’.

Hoseok scanned the room and his gaze landed on Naomi and I in record time. He began to walk through the desks followed by Taehyung and Namjoon. I gulped as my eyes caught Taehyung’s as he sauntered past my desk right behind Hoseok. His mocha eyes stared into mine as he winked, hand softly running past shoulder as the three boys claimed the table behind us. I gulped feeling my cheeks burn with blood rushing to them. It was a damn good thing Taehyung was behind me and couldn’t see them. I was not about to let him know how he affected me.

After what felt like forever the bell rang and the lesson began and I felt my body sigh in relief as Taehyung’s gaze switched from me to the teacher at the front of the room. It was gonna be a long class period I could already tell.

~~~

I don’t care what Naomi said about them being marshemellows, they were intimidating. For some reason Taehyung had taken a liking to my hair and in the middle of notes began to play with my hair - and that’s just the start. At first it was innocent fascination as he picked up small picks and twirled them between his fingers.

Then he took it a step further. He swept my hair to the side, revealing my neck and he began to dance his fingertips along the skin before he began to caress it softly and at one point even laid a soft kiss on the skin making me jump in surprise and lean forward away from the playful bad boy. I could still here his chuckling at how quickly I packed my bag and darted out the classroom, cheeks flushed red. I had made one mistake during this and that was me turning around and giving him a full sight of my flushed cheeks.

His smirk got wider and he stood up and began to walk toward me, but I never gave him the chance to corner me as I was going bullseye a run for his money at how fast I ran down the hall.

Miraculously I had ended up right in front of my next class - Science and just to my luck the boy Namjoon sauntered in with Hoseok and they had witnessed everything from last period. I prayed to god they wouldn’t see me, but alas they went unanswered as Hoseok locked eyes with me and they flickered to the empty seats on either side of me and he wasted no time claiming the spot to my left and Namjoon to my right.

I took a deep breath and didn’t make eye contact at all, instead keeping myself straight forward and stiff, although I tried to look relaxed. And it seems both boys noticed my posture change and their smirks changed to friendly smiles instantly.

“Hey Y/n it’s alright we don’t bite. I’m Hoseok and that’s Namjoon but I’m sure Naomi told you that already.” Hoseok flashed me a smile that I couldn’t help but retaliate. “There we go. See we aren’t that bad.” He grinned wider at the sight of my smile.

“I can see why Taehyung likes you now.” Namjoon exclaime smacking my head snap to him. “Ex-excuse me?” I said staring wide eyed at him. He chuckled in response. “Oh come on, you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.” He teased and Hoseok decided to join in. “Yeah y/n I saw it this morning. Both in the office and in class. He’s definitely taken a liking to you.” My eyes were saucers how and I turned to the front just as the bell rang for the lesson to begin. Just before the teacher began to talk, Namjoon leaned in and whispered, “Once Tae wants something, he usually gets what he wants and this time that’s something is you.” Before he turned back to the board as if he had t said a word.

Throughout the entire lesson I had a hard time focusing. Who would? I was just told, that Taehyung would stop at nothing until he had me and that frightened me immensely. I’ve had my fair share of heartbreak, but I also knew these boys were dangerous, anyone could tell. From their outfits to the aura they held to the students who didn’t dare mess with them let alone look at them. If that didn’t tell a girl something I don’t know what did.

As soon as the bell rang I was once again rushing from the class, heart racing. I needed to avoid them at all costs, which was hard considering I’ve only met three out of the seven. According to Naomi there was four more boys I was yet to meet, and not gonna lie I was thankful. She told me about Jin, the kindest out of them all, but he was still a force to be reckon with, Jimin the sly and flirtatious dancer with feline like eyes, Yoongi the boy who was quiet most of the time but still looked scary at the same time, and finally the youngest Jungkook who was just as dangerous as Taehyung. She also told me about Jin’s girlfriend Sarah who’s 5'6” with brown hair and brown eyes to match.

I was overly cautious at the thought. The boys were very close and told each other everything so by now they each had to know who I was and that Tae wanted me which was scarier considering I had no clue what any of them looked like. So walking to third my guard was definitely up as the Art hall came into view. I held my head high and plopped into the first available seat. My hands shook slightly as I gripped my pencil with more force than necessary. Finally the lesson began and we were told to sketch a room and I got to work immediately, already feeling my nerves settling. One thought that hadn’t occurred to me is that maybe just maybe one of the boys had already been in the room with me.

Maybe it was the way my nerves lingered just under the calm line in my veins or the gaze I felt on my back but I brushed it off as the person looking at the example on the board. It never occurred to me that it could be one of Taehyung’s friends in the room, until I heard the lunch bell ring and looked up just in time to see a boy with bright red hair and a leather jacket similar to Hoseok’s, Namjoon’s, and even Taehyung’s walk past me. I froze eyes watching him leave through the door. Maybe it was just a coincidence that he had the same jacket?

Yeah maybe it’s just a coincidence. Many guys and girls like leather jackets. These thoughts kept me calm….for about 5 seconds. The boy paused in the doorway and turned locking eyes with mine. Feline mocha eyes held me still in my chair. My eyes went wider and I silently gazed at him. He smirked and then spun on his heels and headed for lunch, but I couldn’t move. The eyes were the same as Naomi had described. Now it might not seem like a big deal but if at least one member knew what class I was in and who I was, as they all seem to know me now even if I don’t know them, they could keep tabs on me and therefore give Taehyung that opportunity to get me right where he wants. That thought alone was scary.

~~~

I’ve never been this anxious in my life. Especially not walking to lunch. My eyes were darting around and I sped walk through the halls like my life depended on it. These boys gave off a less than friendly aura, even if Hoseok and Namjoon were more than nice in Science. I couldn’t place my finger on it, but something was hidden about these boys, a secret. Even Naomi said “don’t get on their bad side” but what is there bad side? That thought alone told me to be on alert and avoid them as much as possible. Which is why I’ve found myself outside eating lunch and avoiding the lunchroom like the plague.

Each time the door opened I’d jump and tense up and only relax when I’d see it wasn’t any of the people I’d wanted to avoid. The entire half hour was filled with my nerves ready to jump into action and my body set in flight mode. Call it paranoid but something was up and as much as I wanted to deny it, I wanted to find out what it was.

~~~

Lunch period had ended and I was thankful for the final class of the day, English. The tables were pretty empty, as lunch had just barely ended, so I had first dibs on my seat and chose an outside seat, to not meet the same fate as I had in science class. The students slowly filed in and took open seats and I breathed a sigh of relief when a girl took the open seat next to me.

“Hey I’ve never seen you before are you new?” A bubbly voice greeted me from my left. I turned to see a girl smiling at me. “Um yeah sorry I should’ve introduced myself. I’m y/n and its my first day. Whats your name?”

The girls expression changed to a wider smile as she held her hand out. “Ah so your the famous y/n. I’m Sarah it’s nice to meet you.” She must’ve seen my shocked expression. “Don’t worry I won’t say anything to the boys and none of them are in this class so you have nothing to worry about.” I released the breath in my throat happily. The one class I was able to relax.

Throughout the whole class period my body relaxed and my mind was at ease as I worked on my assignment. Sarah and I chatted all the way up until the bell rang. “Oh that’s the bell. You coming?” She asked smiling. I glanced up from my paper and back up smiling sheepishly. She seemed to understand. “That’s alright. Here’s my phone number so we can chat later and I can show you around tomorrow!” I quickly typed in the number into my phone and sent her a quick text for her to know its me. I waved bye and instantly began to furiously write again.

~~~

“Success!” I shouted as I held the paper up in victory. After only 20 extra minutes in class did I finish the paper? You bet I did. Correct grammar and everything! I quickly placed my notebook and pencil in my bag and jumped to my feet and placed the finished assignment in the basket and practically skipped out the door.

My class was on the top floor of the school so I had to take the stairs down and various hallways to reach those stairs. Yes it was weird. As I descended toward the third floor hallway I heard a loud bang echo from down the hall. I froze mid step and strained my ears and a second bang echoed. I felt my heartbeat rise. I needed to get past to leave so I took a deep breath and carefully walked down the hall. Another bang and a groan followed. Then a cry of pain and I couldn’t ignore it. I slowly crept up to the classroom and peaked my head around the corner.

There was around seven boys in the room. I leaned further in when I heard a third groan and saw a boy on the floor with a red leather jacket on. He hissed in pain as one of the boys landed a so,I’d kick to his abdomen. I winced as he released another gasp of pain. My eyes flickered to the foot aimed to strike again and up the legs and torso and my eyes met the scowling expression of Namjoon. My eyes went wider and my eyes transitioned to each boy, Jin arms crossed next to Namjoon, Hoseok opposite them, jimin leaning against the wall, Jungkook I believe whispering to sugar who was perched on the desk next to Taehyung. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was right, they were dangerous. I wanted to flee before I was seen but my feet stuck in their spot, unable to command my muscles to move. I stared as Namjoon again struck the boy’s abdomen again and he curled in on himself and then his eyes locked onto mine. I felt like a deer in headlights unable to move just star struck in my spot by the door.

The boy stared at me before I heard it. The broken voice barely above a whisper. “Please help me.” I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water, unable to form words, hell not even a sound. Suddenly I could move and I scooted my left foot back. Big. Mistake. As if I was a magnet I now had not just one, but eight pairs of eyes on my frozen figure. Nobody moved for a moment, we just stared. Then one by one the boy’s began to smirk. I heard feet hit the ground and slow footsteps approach me and that’s when the flight response kicked in and I was gone down the hall faster than you could say “oops.”

~A/Allie

Originally posted by fyeahbangtaned

Fifty shades of phan; chapter 2

Fifty shades of Phan
A/N: I know Phil is 30 now but in this story he is 27, oh and they are on America in this story


Chapter 2

My heart is pounding. The elevator arrives on the first floor, and I scramble out as soon as the doors slide open, stumbling once, but fortunately not sprawling on to the immaculate sandstone floor. I race for the wide glass doors, and I’m free in the bracing, cleansing, damp air of Seattle. Raising my face, I welcome the cool refreshing rain. I close my eyes and take a deep, purifying breath, trying to recover what’s left of my equilibrium.
No man has ever affected me the way Phil Lester has, and I cannot fathom why.
Is it his looks, his civility, wealth,power I don’t understand my irrational reaction.

I breathe an enormous sigh of relief. What in heaven’s name was that all about leaning against one of the steel pillars of the building, I valiantly attempt to calm down and gather my thoughts. I shake my head. Holy crap - what was thatMy heart steadies to its regular rhythm, and I can breathe normally again. I head for the car.
As I leave the city limits behind, I begin to feel foolish and embarrassed as I replay the interview in my mind. Surely, I’m over-reacting to something that’s imaginary. Okay, so he’s very attractive, confident, commanding, at ease with himself - but on the flip side, he’s arrogant, and for all his impeccable manners, he’s autocratic and cold. Well, on the surface.

An involuntary shiver runs down my spine. He may be arrogant, but then he has a right to be - he’s accomplished so much at such a young age. He doesn’t suffer fools gladly, but why should he again, I’m irritated that Luoise didn’t give me a brief biography.
While cruising along the I-5, my mind continues to wander. I’m truly perplexed as to what makes someone so driven to succeed. Some of his answers were so cryptic - as if he had a hidden agenda. And Luoise’s questions - ugh! The adoption and asking him if he was gay! I shudder. I can’t believe I said that. Ground, swallow me up now! Every time I think of that question in the future, I will cringe with embarrassment. Damn Luoise Pentland!

I check the speedometer. I’m driving more cautiously than I would on any other occasion. And I know it’s the memory of two penetrating blue eyes gazing at me, and a stern voice telling me to drive carefully. Shaking my head, I realize that Lester’s more like a man double his age.
Forget it, Dan,I scold myself. I decide that all in all, it’s been a very interesting experience, but I shouldn’t dwell on it . Put it behind you. I never have to see him again. I’m immediately cheered by the thought. I switch on the MP3 player and turn the volume up loud, sit back, and listen to thumping indie rock music as I press down on the accelerator.

We live in a small community of duplex apartments in Vancouver, Washington, close to the Vancouver campus of WSU. I’m lucky - Luoise’s parents bought the place for her, and I pay peanuts for rent. It’s been home for four years now. As I pull up outside, I know luoise going to want a blow-by-blow account, and she is tenacious. Well, at least she has the mini-disc. Hopefully I won’t have to elaborate much beyond what was said during the interview.

“Dan! You’re back.” Luoise sits in our living area, surrounded by books. She’s clearly been studying for finals - though she’s still in her pink flannel pajamas decorated with cute little rabbits, the ones she reserves for the aftermath of breaking up with boyfriends, for assorted illnesses, and for general moody depression. She bounds up to me and hugs me hard.

“I was beginning to worry. I expected you back sooner.”

“Oh, I thought I made good time considering the interview ran over.” I wave the mini-disc recorder at her.

“Dan, thank you so much for doing this. I owe you, I know. How was it what was he like?” Oh no - here we go, the Luoise Pentland Inquisition.

I struggle to answer her question. What can I say?

“I’m glad it’s over, and I don’t have to see him again, you know.” I shrug.
“He’s very focused,kind….and really intimidating .”

Luoise gazes innocently at me. I frown at her.

“Don’t you look so innocent. Why didn’t you give me a biography he made me feel like such an idiot for skimping on basic research.” Luoise clamps a hand to her mouth.
“Jeez, Dan , I’m sorry - I didn’t think.”
I huff.
“Mostly he was courteous, formal, slightly stuffy - like he’s old before his time. He doesn’t talk like a man of twenty-something. How old is he anyway?”
“Twenty-seven. Jeez, Dan,I’m sorry. I should have briefed you, but I was in such a panic. Let me have the mini-disc, and I’ll start transcribing the interview.”
“You look better. Did you eat your soup?” I ask, keen to change the subject.
“Yes, and it was delicious as usual. I’m feeling much better.” She smiles at me in gratitude. I check my watch.
“I have to run. I can still make my shift at Clayton’s.”
“Dan,you’ll be exhausted.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll see you later.”

I’ve worked at Clayton’s since I started at WSU. It’s the largest independent hardware store in the Portland area, and over the four years I’ve worked here, I’ve come to know a little bit about most everything we sell - although ironically, I’m crap at any DIY. I leave all that to my dad. I’m much more of a curl-up-with-a-book-in-a-comfy-chair-by-the-fire kind of a boy. I’m glad I can make my shift as it gives me something to focus on that isn’t Phil Lester We’re busy - it’s the start of the summer season, and folks are redecorating their homes. Mrs. Clayton is pleased to see me.

“Dan! I thought you weren’t going to make it today.”
“My appointment didn’t take as long as I thought. I can do a couple of hours.”
“I’m real pleased to see you.”
She sends me to the storeroom to start re-stocking shelves, and I’m soon absorbed in the task.
When I arrive home later, Luoise is wearing headphones and working on her laptop.
Her nose is still pink, but she has her teeth into a story, so she’s concentrating and typing furiously. I’m thoroughly drained - exhausted by the long drive, the grueling interview, and by being rushed off my feet at Clayton’s. I slump on to the couch, thinking about the essay I have to finish and all the studying I haven’t done today because I was holed up with … him.

“So what did you really think of him?” Damn, she’s inquisitive. Why can’t she just let this goThink of something - quick.
“He’s very driven, controlling, arrogant - scary really, but very charismatic. I can understand the fascination,” I add truthfully, as I peer round the door at her hoping this will shut her up once and for all.
“You, fascinated by a man that’s a first,” she snorts.

I start gathering the makings of a sandwich so she can’t see my face.
“Why did you want to know if he was gay Incidentally, that was the most embarrassing question. I was mortified, and he was pissed to be asked too.” I scowl at the memory.
“Whenever he’s in the society pages, he never has a date…and you also haven’t had a date in so long.”
“It was embarrassing. The whole thing was embarrassing. I’m glad I’ll never have to lay eyes on him again.”
“Oh, Dan it can’t have been that bad. I think he sounds quite taken with you.”
Taken with me Now Luoise is being ridiculous.
“Would you like a sandwich?”
“Please.”
We talk no more of Phil Lester that evening, much to my relief. Once we’ve eaten, I’m able to sit at the dining table with Luoise and, while she works on her article, I work on my essay on Tess of the D'Urbervilles. Damn, but that woman was in the wrong place at the wrong time in the wrong century. By the time I finish, it’s midnight, and Luoise has long since gone to bed. I make my way to my room, exhausted, but pleased that I’ve accomplished so much for a Monday.

Saturday at the store is a nightmare. We are besieged by do-it-yourselfers wanting to spruce up their homes. Mr. and Mrs. Clayton, John and Patrick - the two other part-timers.

“How are things with you, Ana?”
For a moment, I hesitate, and I have Mom’s full attention.

“I’m fine.”

“Dan have you met someone?” Wow… how does she do that The excitement in her voice is palpable.
“No, Mom, it’s nothing. You’ll be the first to know if I do.”
“Dan,you really need to get out more, honey. You worry me.”
“Mom,I’m fine. How’s Bob?” As ever, distraction is the best policy.

As I end the call I turn sharp round, Mrs. Clayton asks me to check on checking catalogue numbers against the items we need and the items we’ve ordered, eyes flicking from the order book and back as I check the entries match. Then, for some reason, I turn around and glance up… and find myself locked in the bold blue gaze of Phil Lester who’s standing at the counter, staring at me intently.
Heart failure.
“Mister Howell What a pleasant surprise.” His gaze is unwavering and intense.

Holy crap. What the hell is he doing here looking all tousled-hair and outdoorsy in his cream chunky-knit sweater, jeans, and walking boots I think my mouth has popped open, and I can’t locate my brain or my voice.
“Mr. Lester,” I whisper, because that’s all I can manage.
There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips and his eyes are alight with humor, as if he’s enjoying some private joke.
“I was in the area,” he says by way of explanation. “I need to stock up on a few things.
It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mister Howell .” His voice is warm and husky like dark melted chocolate fudge caramel… or something.
I shake my head to gather my wits. My heart is pounding a frantic tattoo, and for some reason I’m blushing furiously under his steady scrutiny. I am utterly thrown by the sight of him standing before me. My memories of him did not do him justice. He’s not merely good-looking - he’s the epitome of male beauty, breathtaking, and he’s here. Here in Clayton’s Hardware Store. Go figure. Finally my cognitive functions are restored and reconnected with the rest of my body.

“Dan. My name’s Dan,” I mutter. “What can I help you with, Mr. Lester ?”
He smiles, and again it’s like he’s privy to some big secret. It is so disconcerting. Taking a deep breath, I put on my professional I’ve-worked-in-this-shop-for-years face?. I can do this.
“There are a few items I need. To start with, I’d like some cable ties,” he murmurs, his blue eyes cool but amused.
Cable ties?
“We stock various lengths. Shall I show you?” I mutter, my voice soft and wavery. Get a grip, Howell . A slight frown mars Lester’s rather lovely brow.
“Please. Lead the way, Mister Howell ,” he says. I try for nonchalance as I come out from behind the counter, but really I’m concentrating hard on not falling over my own feet - my legs are suddenly the consistency of Jell-O. I’m so glad I decided to wear my best jeans this morning.

“They’re in with the electrical goods, aisle eight.” My voice is a little too bright. I glance up at him and regret it almost immediately. Damn, he’s handsome. I blush.
“After you,” he murmurs, gesturing with his long-fingered, beautifully manicured hand.With my heart almost strangling me - because it’s in my throat trying to escape from my mouth - I head down one of the aisles to the electrical section. Why is he in Portland?
Why is he here at Clayton’s And from a very tiny, underused part of my brain - probably located at the base of my medulla oblongata where my subconscious dwells - comes the thought: he’s here to see you. No way! I dismiss it immediately. Why would this beautiful, powerful, urbane man want to see me the idea is preposterous, and I kick it out of my head.

He gazes at the selection of cable ties we stock at Clayton’s. What on Earth is he going to do with thoseI cannot picture him as a do-it-yourselfer at all. His fingers trail across the various packages displayed, and for some inexplicable reason, I have to look away. He bends and selects a packet.
“These will do,” he says with his oh-so-secret smile, and I blush.
“Is there anything else?”
“I’d like some masking tape.”
Masking tape?
“Are you redecorating?” The words are out before I can stop them. Surely he hires laborers or has staff to help him decorate?
“No, not redecorating,” he says quickly then smirks, and I have the uncanny feeling that he’s laughing at me.
Am I that funny looking?
“This way,” I murmur embarrassed. “Masking tape is in the decorating aisle.”
I glance behind me as he follows.

“Have you worked here long?” His voice is low, and he’s gazing at me, blur eyes concentrating hard. I blush even more brightly. Why the hell does he have this effect on me?
I feel like I’m fourteen years old - gauche, as always, and out of place. Eyes front Howell !

“Four years,” I mutter as we reach our goal. To distract myself, I reach down and select the two widths of masking tape that we stock.
“I’ll take that one,” Grey says softly pointing to the wider tape, which I pass to him.
Our fingers brush very briefly, and the current is there again, zapping through me like I’ve touched an exposed wire. I gasp involuntarily as I feel it, all the way down to somewhere dark and unexplored, deep in my belly. Desperately, I scrabble around for my equilibrium.

“Anything else?” My voice is husky and breathy. His eyes widen slightly.
“Some rope, I think.” His voice mirrors mine, husky.
“This way.” I duck my head down to hide my recurring blush and head for the aisle.

cable cord… “ I halt at his expression, his eyes darkening. Holy cow.
“I’ll take five yards of the natural filament rope please.”

Quickly, with trembling fingers, I measure out five yards against the fixed ruler, aware that his hot blue gaze is on me. I dare not look at him. Jeez, could I feel any more self-conscious taking my Stanley knife from the back pocket of my jeans, I cut it then coil it neatly before tying it in a slipknot. By some miracle, I manage not to remove a finger with my knife.

“Were you a Boy Scout?” he asks, sculptured, sensual lips curled in amusement. Don’t look at his mouth!
“Organized, group activities aren’t really my thing, Mr. Lester.”
He arches a brow.
“What is your thing, Daniel?” he asks, his voice soft and his secret smile is back. I gaze at him unable to express myself. I’m on shifting tectonic plates. Try and be cool, Dan,my tortured subconscious begs on bended knee.
“Books,” I whisper, but inside, my subconscious is screaming: You! You are my thing!
I slap it down instantly, mortified that my psyche is having ideas above its station.
“What kind of books?” He cocks his head to one side. Why is he so interested?
“Oh, you know. The usual. The classics. British literature, mainly.”

He rubs his chin with his long index finger and thumb as he contemplates my answer.

Or perhaps he’s just very bored and trying to hide it.

“Anything else you need?” I have to get off this subject - those fingers on that face are so beguiling.
“I don’t know. What else would you recommend?”
What would I recommendI don’t even know what you’re doing.
“For a do-it-yourselfer?”
He nods, blue eyes alive with wicked humor. I flush, and my eyes stray of their own accord to his snug jeans.
“Coveralls,” I reply, and I know I’m no longer screening what’s coming out of my mouth.
He raises an eyebrow, amused, yet again.
“You wouldn’t want to ruin your clothing,” I gesture vaguely in the direction of his jeans.
“I could always take them off.” He smirks.
“Um…okay then no clothes-I mean no coveralls….I can’t really think of anything else"I feel the color in my cheeks rising again. I must be the color of the communist manifesto. Stop talking. Stop talking NOW.

“Do you need anything else?” I squeak .
He ignores my inquiry.
“How’s the article coming along?”
He’s finally asked me a normal question, away from all the innuendo and the confusing double talk… a question I can answer. I grasp it tightly with two hands as if were a life raft, and I go for honesty.
“I’m not writing it, Luoise is. Miss Pentland . My roommate, she’s the writer.
She’s very happy with it. She’s the editor of the magazine, and she was devastated that she couldn’t do the interview in person.” I feel like I’ve come up for air - at last, a normal topic of conversation. “Her only concern is that she doesn’t have any original photographs of you.”
Lester raises an eyebrow.
“What sort of photographs does she want?”
Okay. I hadn’t factored in this response. I shake my head, because I just don’t know.

“Well, I’m around. Tomorrow, perhaps… ” he trails off.

“You’d be willing to attend a photo shoot?” My voice is squeaky again. Luoise will be in seventh heaven if I can pull this off. And you might see him again tomorrow, that dark place at the base of my brain whispers seductively at me. I dismiss the thought - of all the silly, ridiculous…
“Luoise will be delighted - if we can find a photographer.” I’m so pleased, I smile at him broadly. His lips part, like he’s taking a sharp intake of breath, and he blinks. For a fraction of a second, he looks lost somehow, and the Earth shifts slightly on its axis, the tectonic plates sliding into a new position.

Oh my. Phil lester’s lost look.

“Let me know about tomorrow.” Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out his wallet. “My card. It has my cell number on it. You’ll need to call before ten in the morning.”
“Okay.” I grin up at him. Luoise is going to be thrilled.

“Dan!”

Caspar (lee) has materialized at other the end of the aisle. He’s Mr. Clayton’s youngest brother. I’d heard he was home from Africa, but I wasn’t expecting to see him today.
“Er, excuse me for a moment, Mr. Lester.”
Lester frowns as I turn away from him.
Caspar has always been a buddy, and in this strange moment that I’m having with the rich, powerful, awesomely off-the-scale attractive control-freak Lester, it’s great to talk to someone who’s normal. Caspar hugs me hard taking me by surprise.
“Dan, hi, it’s so good to see you!” he gushes.
“Hello Caspar , how are you, you home for your brother’s birthday?”
“Yep. You’re looking well, Dan, really well.” He grins as he examines me at arm’s length. Then he releases me but keeps a possessive arm draped over my shoulder. I shuffle from foot to foot, embarrassed. It’s good to see Caspar , but he’s always been over-familiar.
When I glance up at Phil Lester , he’s watching us like a hawk, his blue eyes hooded and speculative, his mouth a hard impassive line. He’s changed from the weirdly attentive customer to someone else - someone cold and distant.

“Caspar, I’m with a customer. Someone you should meet,” I say, trying to defuse the antagonism I see in Lester’s eyes. I drag Caspar over to meet him, and they weigh each other up. The atmosphere is suddenly arctic.
“Er, Caspar, this is Phil Lester . Mr. Lester, this is Caspar Clayton. His brother owns the place.” And for some irrational reason, I feel I have to explain a bit more.
“I’ve known Caspar ever since I’ve worked here, though we don’t see each other that often. He’s back from Africa where he’s studying business administration.” I’m babbling… Stop, now!
“Mr. Clayton.” Phil holds his hand out, his look unreadable.
“Mr. Lester,” Caspar returns his handshake.
“Wait up - not the phil Lester of Lester Enterprises Holdings?” Caspar goes from surly to awestruck in less than a nanosecond. Lester gives him a polite smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

Wow - is there anything I can get you?“
"Daniel has it covered, Mr. Clayton. He’s been very attentive.” His expression is impassive, but his words… it’s like he’s saying something else entirely. It’s baffling.
“Cool,” Caspar responds. “Catch you later, Dan.”
“Sure, Caspar .” I watch him disappear toward the stock room.

“Anything else, Mr.lester?”

“Just these items.” His tone is clipped and cool. Damn… have I offended him taking a deep breath, I turn and head for the till. What is his problem
I ring up the rope,masking tape, and cable ties at the till.
“That will be forty-three dollars, please.” I glance up at Lester, and I wish I hadn’t. He’s watching me closely, his blue eyes intense and smoky. It’s unnerving.
“Would you like a bag?” I ask as I take his credit card.
“Please, Daniel.” His tongue caresses my name, and my heart once again is frantic.

I can hardly breathe. Hurriedly, I place his purchases in a plastic carrier.

“You’ll call me if you want me to do the photo shoot?” He’s all business once more. I nod, rendered speechless yet again, and hand back his credit card.

“Good. Until tomorrow perhaps.”

He turns to leave, then pauses. “Oh - and Daniel, I’m glad Miss Pentland couldn’t do the interview.” He smiles, then strides with renewed purpose out of the store, slinging the plastic bag over his shoulder, leaving me a quivering mass of raging hormones. I spend several minutes staring at the closed door through which he’s just left before I return to planet Earth.
Okay - I like him. There, I’ve admitted it to myself. I cannot hide from my feelings anymore. I’ve never felt like this before. I find him attractive, very attractive. But it’s a lost cause, I know, and I sigh with bittersweet regret. It was just a coincidence, his coming here. But still, I can admire him from afar, surely no harm can come of that. And if I find a photographer, I can do some serious admiring tomorrow. I bite my lip in anticipation and find myself grinning like a schoolgirl. I need to phone Luoise and organize a photo-shoot.

………………………………………………….

Character placement: https://phanficminr.tumblr.com/post/160124305810/fifty-shades-of-phan-character-placement

First chapter: https://phanficminr.tumblr.com/post/160150333965/fifty-shades-of-phan-chapter-1

I try to make it imaginary:
this great burst of brightness
cannot exist in a day so
ransacked by midnight.
The touches remain, though:
mouth on my neck like I
am an orange, opening
to be devoured, fingers
pulling my wax spine carefully
from underneath layers of
yellow dust, breath
pushing my hair back
from my wars. There’s
a sigh in between us.

I want him only halfway.
Only where the bow of
my lip scrapes his; only
where my skeleton
does not feel pried open.
And yet, a sunrise blossoms
in the pale morning air
between my covers, and
he is still hovering, glowing
with teeth clenching pulp.

Champagne and Rose Petals.

The key to a woman’s heart is to always remind her how beautiful she really is, not just by telling her but also showing her. Nobody is perfect and even the prettiest women can oftentimes feel insecure about her flaws. In many instances, it is not enough to just praise a girl with compliments, she deserves to be showered with all the love and affection that one can offer. The smallest, romantic notions can reassure a woman of her value and how much she is treasured.

Justin’s Point of View.

Taking one step back I inhaled a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill my lungs before exhaling through my mouth. I smiled to myself in relief that after almost an hour of shuffling around the en suite, trying to make everything look perfect it finally appeared to be just as I planned. I was proud of my accomplishment.

A sweet aroma of lilac filled the room as a candlelight glimmer illuminated my surroundings. Several small battery operated candles lined the edge of the bath with one floral in the center, giving off a sweet scent of lavender silk. I placed two more on the vanity, one in each corner to light up the room a little more; the magenta colored candle in the farthest corner was a briar rose scent while the blue was holiday frost.

The combined fragrance of wild flowers that grew in the summer and a cooling outdoor accord with cedar wood and Siberian fir needles with a hint of jasmine and vanilla was so fresh and alluring, I can see that I made a smart choice when picking them out.

I filled the bath with warm steaming water and added a handful of raspberry sorbet bath salts. Grabbing a few red rose petals, I scattered them all around the en suite. I spread an insufficient amount across the vanity and a few more around the bath before throwing the last couple down into the water.

Taking one final glance around, I felt satisfied by how everything looked. It was important that everything looked absolutely perfect and nothing short of it because tonight is going to be special. I could not erase the smile off of my face when I thought about seeing the look on (Your Name)’s face when she sees this. My baby deserves a quiet and romantic night, it’s the least I can do to put a smile on her face again.

Lately, (Your Name) hasn’t been herself. Though she hasn’t said anything to me I know that something has been bothering her. I can tell by the sudden change in her demeanor over the past week; every time I try to hold her or even touch her she hesitantly pushes me away, it breaks my heart every time because she had never been one to object to my affection.

She’s become very silent as well; I come home every night to find her in the sitting room laying on the couch. I always ask about her day but (Your Name) invariably greets me with a smile that is never genuine and one-word answers like “good” or “fine.”

As desperately as I try to get her to talk to me she remains silent and distant from me. It’s heartbreaking.

But I can see it in her eyes that something is holding her back from opening up to me like she’s afraid of what I may think. If that’s the case then I hope to God she knows that she can tell me anything. There is nothing more distressing than seeing the woman you love slowly break down in front of your eyes every day without any knowledge of what’s wrong because she doesn’t feel confident enough to confide in you.

I miss (Your Name)’s gorgeous smile and her overall delighted self and I wanted to do something to bring back that radiant and confident woman that I fell in love with so I figured that I would surprise her with a romantic bath for two. It’ll give us some alone time and it’ll give her a little reassurance to let her know how beautiful she is and how much she means to me.

After scattering the remaining rose petals into the bath I exited the en suite and headed downstairs to the den where (Your Name) has been all evening, diverting all of her attention to one of her books. I inwardly thanked God that she found something to keep herself occupied for awhile, otherwise she would have gone to bed over an hour ago.

Standing in the archway that separates the den from the kitchen I see (Your Name) sitting on the couch in the exact same position as she’s been all night; her legs were tucked comfortably underneath her while her back was resting up against the back of the sofa. She was leaning on her left side with her elbow laying on the armrest. I smile to myself at the sight of her; she always seems to look so relaxed when wrapped up into one of her books. I wish she can stay that way.

As I enter the sitting room I assume she saw me at the corner of her eye; she lifted her head and turned to face me. The smile she gave me was not the genuine, endearing smile she always had; it was forced and had little to no emotion. I hope that’ll soon change.

“Hey, baby girl,” I greet her with a warm smile, trying to conceal my sympathy for her. Standing over her behind the couch I lean down and press my lips against the top of her head, taking in the enticing vanilla scent of her hair. (Your Name) replied with a simple “Hi” — her voice is so low and brittle I almost didn’t hear her — before closing her book and laying it on the coffee table that was in front of her.

I walked around to the front of the sofa and grabbed both of her hands, pulling her up to stand. I brought her closer to my chest and rested my forehead on hers. “I have a surprise for you,” I mutter out.

(Your Name) looked up at me with her eyes narrowed in confusion, but deep within her hazel emerald orbs, I could also see a hint of wonder and of anticipation. Without saying another word and still holding onto her hands I began leading her towards the staircase.

***

We reached the top of the stairs and sauntered down the hallway; (Your Name)’s soft and delicate hand is still enfolded in mine as our fingers entwined jointly. Finally, I came to a stop in front of the closed door to the en suite, I felt (Your Name)’s body collide into my back, indicating that she was most likely not paying attention to where we were going.

Before I opened the door I turned around to face her, giving a quick and gentle peck to her forehead.

“Close your eyes.”

(Your Name) did as I asked and let her eyes flutter shut. I opened the bathroom door before pulling her body in front of mine and wrapping my arms around her waist from behind. I guided her into the room and closed the door behind us. “Open your eyes,” I spoke in a whisper, holding my lips against her ear.

As her eyes slowly opened a gasp emitted from her lips. I watched her eyes move from the bath and all around the room, admiring the candles and flowers petals on the floor and across the vanity.

For the first time in a long time, I saw a smile on her face that was pure and permeated with endearment.

“Justin…” she muttered, stunned. Her left hand rested against her chest, over her heart. “This is beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it, baby. I know you’ve been having a hard time and I want you to just ease your mind and let me treat you like the queen that you are,” I press my lips against the base of her neck, giving her skin a gentle kiss. Rotating her in my arms I pulled her close to me so that her chest was tight to mine. (Your Name)’s hazed eyes lock onto mine, her innocence begins to show as her teeth bite hard into her bottom lip. My hands begin to slowly move down the length of her arms, feeling her soft skin tingle with goosebumps.

Grabbing the hem of her shirt I began tugging it up. I discarded it to the floor, off to the side and moved to her back where I found the clip that held her bra together. I was about to unhook it when (Your Name) suddenly stopped me, she became timid and refused to look at me. It was almost like she was afraid and didn’t want me to see her and it hurt.

She has nothing to be nervous about and doesn’t have to be insecure around me; in my eyes, she is everything I could ever want in a woman and more.

“It’s okay, baby,” I mumble huskily, trying to give her some reassurance. She finally allows me to continue and I unclip her bra, sliding it down her arms before throwing it onto the bathroom floor. My hands engulf around her face, caressing each of her cheeks with my thumbs. I solemnly admire every inch of her with nothing but amazement. Even after three years she never fails to leave me speechless by how gorgeous she is. “So beautiful,” I smile, releasing her face from my hands as they move gently down the curves of her figure, brushing her smooth skin with my fingers.

After discarding the remainder of her clothes, leaving her completely bare to my eyes I grabbed a hold of her hand, leading her over to the bath. She stepped over the edge of the tub and sat down, sinking down to the bottom underneath the water fuzzed over by raspberry-scented bubbles. (Your Name) closed her eyes while a look of relaxation washed over her face, I smile in relief at how much she seemed to enjoy it.

After disrobing I got in as well, (Your Name) moved closer to me and sat cross-legged in front of me with her head resting comfortably against my naked chest.

“This feels really nice,” (Your Name) giggled as she snuggled further into my embrace. She was slowly coming back to her same carefree and sparkling self. I immediately felt glad I decided to do this.

She looked up at me with a smile of gratitude. “Thank you for this,” she whispered. “You don’t have to thank me, you deserve it.” Kissing the top of her head I ran my hand across her cheek down to her neck.

“You have such soft skin,” breathing against the lining of her jaw. I leave feather-like kisses down her chin to her neck while my hands move in a soft massage-like matter along her shoulders and her arms. I held her tighter with her back compressed against my chest.

***

Grabbing (Your Name)’s shampoo bottle from the vanity I poured a good amount into my hand, taking in its sweet scent of almonds and coconut and began rubbing it into her hair. She leaned back so that her head laid against my shoulder and closed her eyes, letting out a soft groan. “Mhm,” I couldn’t resist laughing at how cute she was as I continued to lather her hair, massaging her scalp with my fingers.

Once I had rinsed the soap suds out of (Your Name)’s hair she began lathering her skin with her preferred sweet cream and peony scrub. As she was doing this I reached behind the bath, taking out the bottle of Perrier-Jouët Blason Rosé that I had hidden there earlier and poured out two glasses. “Here you go, sweetheart,” I handed her a glass of pink champagne while keeping the other for myself. I clicked my glass with hers before taking a sip. (Your Name) did the same and rested her head back against my shoulder.

***

The warmth of the bath was beginning to grow cold, I pulled the plug, letting the water drain. (Your Name) and I got out of the bath and dried ourselves off. I wrapped (Your Name) up with a white crisp towel and grabbed another to cover my waist.

“Babe, can I dry your hair?” I asked, turning around to face her. She had her wet hair wrapped up in a gray towel. “What?” She chuckled.

I wrapped my arms around her waist, lifting her up onto the counter. I slowly pushed the towel back until it slid off of her head. “I want to dry your hair, can I?” (Your Name)’s sweet little giggle filled the room as she nodded her head, granting me permission.

Grabbing the hair dryer and (Your Name)’s brush I began combing through her damp knotted locks as I proceeded to blow dry it. I have never done this ever in my life; in fact, I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing but after watching (Your Name) style her hair multiple times I assume it isn’t too difficult.

After I successfully finished drying (Your Name)’s hair she suggested that I also straighten it and of course, I complied. While she remained propped up on the counter I used her hair straightener to iron out each strand at a time, cautiously as I had never used one of these before and I didn’t want to burn her.

“You should become a part-time hairstylist, babe,” she said while watching me. I looked at her and gave her a flirtatious wink and replied with a quick “thank you, babe” and continued to straighten her hair.

***

Finishing off on the final strand, I combed my fingers through (Your Name)’s summer gold locks that were now free of any tangles. She hopped off of the vanity, still sporting her white towel around her body and looked at herself in the mirror, she smiled at her reflection and turned to face me. “Thank you, Justin.”

Grabbing both of her hands, I press my lips against each of her palms before wrapping her arms around my neck and enfolding my own around her waist.

“I love you so much, (Your Name),” I began, keeping my eyes locked onto hers. “I don’t think I could ever describe just how much I love you but what I know is that words will never be enough to show you; I want to spend each and every day making sure you feel beautiful and loved because you are… Gosh, you are so loved, baby girl. That smile I saw on your face this evening, that angelic and delighted smile that I adore so much, I want to see that smile every single day.”

As (Your Name)’s eyes began to swell up with tears, I knew I was getting my point across. “I love you, Justin, I love you so much, thank you for tonight,” she grinned as tears trickled down her cheek, I quickly brushed them away with my thumb.

“Don’t assume that we won’t have another night like this, the next time will be even better,” I whispered huskily and gave her a wink.

Her cheeks flushed into a bright shade of red as she shyly nuzzled her face into my bare chest. “I can’t wait till then,” she mumbled with a faint chuckle, her lips sweeping along my right collarbone. “Come on, let’s go and get ready for bed,” I quickly kissed the top of her head before releasing her from my grasp.

I followed (Your Name) into our bedroom, flicking the bathroom lights off on my way out the door. I threw on a pair of gray sweat pants, (Your Name) changed into a pink lace silk nightgown that came to her mid-thigh. I watched her crawl into bed, my face all aglow. “What?” she asked. I smiled while shaking my head and climbed into bed beside her. “Nothing, I just love you so much,” my arms enveloped around her from behind. I towered over her and kissed her temple.

“I love you too, Justin, thank you again for tonight,” she held my hand against her stomach, interlocking our fingers together. “Anything for you, my angel.”

Burying my face into (Your Name)’s hair that was sprawled across her pillow behind her I closed my eyes, letting myself slowly fall into darkness.

“If you cannot inspire a woman with love of you, fill her above the brim with love of herself; all that runs over will be yours.” — Audrey Hepburn

The End 


PS - Here’s a little message to anyone who feels like or has ever felt like they are not good enough or they will never find someone who will treat them right… 

Your happiness matters and you are worthy of love and affection. You deserve someone who knows how to remind you how beautiful and amazing you are each and every day. 

Sometimes words are not enough and when you find someone who shows you how much they genuinely love you, rather than just tell you, hold onto them and remember that you deserve to be happy 💖

PPS - Today is my birthday 😄🎉🍷