pillows on the roof

Blanket Fort

Imagine Draco and Harry have been dating a while and they are at Friday night dinner at the Weasley’s. Fred and George are reminiscing about that one really epic blanket fort they built when they were eleven, and Draco leans into Harry and whispers “what’s a blanket fort?”
Ron overhears. “You’ve never built one?” he asks. When Draco shakes his head Ron exclaims “what the fuck?” and is promptly whacked on the head by Molly. “Sorry Mum, but he’s never built a blanket fort!” And Molly gives Draco a sad look because some of her happiest memories are from watching all her children working together to make forts.
Ron stands up, all purposeful and determined, and declares that they are building a blanket fort tonight and herds everyone into the living room. He instructs everyone on their roles and sends them away to collect blankets from around the house and as they head up the stairs after Ginny and Hermione, Draco says to Harry “this is madness.” Harry just grins because Draco is all but dragging him up the stairs in excitement.
The fort is enormous and takes up the entire space of the living room, it looks like a giant canopy of faded patchwork. Draco makes a face at having to sit on the floor at first, but then he crawls inside and settles on a pillow beside Harry, linking their fingers together and looking up at the roof of their creation.
Fred and George disappear and come back with Firewhisky and Molly sends in snacks, and they spend the whole night drinking and laughing in the fort until they all fall asleep, and Draco doesn’t care that he’s 24 and probably too old for this - he is pretty sure it’s one of the best nights of his life.

700 Celebration (2/100)

Request: @aubzylynn : “ 😍😍😍😍 Hi, honey! Can i request a bucky fluff fest puh-leeeease? 25, 5, 12, 13, 31😘😘 i love you”

25. “If you don’t stop looking at me like that we’re going to have a problem.”

5. “Tony is going to kill us.”

12. “You know what? We’re having a party, and you’re not invited!”

13. “I will pay you at least ten dollars to help me build a blanket fort.”

31. “I really want to kiss you.”

A/N: This is so not a drabble… Oh my god. I’m going to stop pretending I’m capable of writing drabbles. I will not be held responsible for the length of these requests.

Originally posted by giflounge

“Bucky!” You gave another insistent knock on his door.

“Damn it, woman, I am trying to sleep!” His voice was muffled as it came through the wood, but you heard the steady grumbling grow closer until the door opened, revealing a very sleepy and disheveled Bucky Barnes.

“Why are you even sleeping? It’s like eight o’clock, you weirdo.”

Trying to be considerate unlike some people. The more I sleep now, the less I sleep while watching whatever nonsense you’re forcing on me tonight.”

You tried to glare at him for that comment, but the little grin he was sporting was too much for you to handle.

“Fine, well, tonight is starting early. I may have been a little too thorough in the blanket and pillow gathering process. You know what this means.”

“Enlighten me,” Bucky said with a sigh, leaning against the door frame and trying his best to hide his eagerness, eyebrow arching in silent question when you fluttered a ten dollar bill in his face.

“I will pay you at least ten dollars to help me build a blanket fort.”

Bucky held your gaze for a long moment, slow smiles creeping over both your faces before he scoffed and batted your hand away.

“Keep you money, doll. Let’s do this.”

It was a painstaking process, but the payoff was great. The couch had been pushed back, the coffee table relocated and covered with a veritable mountain of junk food, and the floor between the couch and the television redesigned into a beautiful nest of pillows and fluffy duvets. The roof of your blanket fort was tethered at one end under the TV, and tucked behind the cushions of the couch at the other. Blankets were tied to the backs of chairs from the dining room on the left, and held in place by Tony’s prized Iron Man lamp on the end table to the right. Another dining room chair served to raise the blankets into a high tent in the center of your cozy new home and doubled as a stand for your laptop.

In total, your massive blanket fort creation consisted of a pinned together patchwork of twelve blankets. It was a glorious sight to behold, and you shared a proud high five with Bucky upon its completion, snapping a couple of pictures for posterity’s sake and christening it Blanketopia: The Coziest Place on Earth.

“Look at the DOLPHINS!”

“Yes, I see them. Calm down,” Bucky laughed, watching you fondly as you grinned at the screen. He laughed again when you gave a delighted gasp, clutching at his arm and squirming a little bit at the cuteness taking place on the screen.

“They’re playing with bubbles,” you whispered, almost sounding on the verge of tears.

While he was sure, based on your reaction, that true magic was unfolding in the ocean documentary, Bucky was far too captivated by the magic nestled in the blankets right beside him. Your eyes were alight with happiness, your body warm and free of tension where it leaned on his shoulder, and your smile… My god, that smile had him breathless. When you turned those lovely eyes on him, he knew he was in trouble, but it wasn’t until he felt you pinch his arm that he realized the trouble was double-sided.

“James Buchanan Barnes, are you even watching?”

“Yes!” he said defensively, but you pursed your lips, thoroughly unconvinced.

“If you don’t stop looking at me like that we’re going to have a problem. Pay attention!”

You took Bucky’s face in your hands, squeezing his cheeks so that his lips pouted out before turning his head away from you and forcing him to look at the screen. Almost against your will you got caught up staring at his profile and the way that the weak blue light emitted by the ocean scenes played on his features. He looked like a figure in a dream, soft and hazy and oh-so-perfect, and though you tried to look away when he glanced over at you, he still caught you staring.

“If you don’t stop looking at me like that we’re going to have a problem.”

Though Bucky said it with a smirk, intending to make a mockery of your earlier statement, it came out much lower and softer than he intended. There was a noticeable shift in the atmosphere, a palpable tension and sent goosebumps up your arms and a flutter to your stomach.

“Fight me, Barnes,” you muttered, trying to make light of the situation and lifting your curled fists in front of your face like a boxer.

“Oh, you’re a tough girl now, huh?” Bucky laughed, catching the weak punch you threw at him with one hand and tweaking your nose with the other. When you gave an indignant huff he only laughed harder, nose scrunching in a way that had your heart stuttering in your chest as you tried to maintain a carefree and unaffected exterior.

“Quit your giggling. This is a fight, mister!”

Your other hand flew forward with the intention of prodding at his side until he released your fist. Bucky’s laugh cut off with a gasp as your fingers brushed his ribs, and you felt him tense up as he hastened to tuck his arms against his body. Your eyes widened with realization and you broke into a taunting smile.

“Stop,” he said warningly.

“Bucky… are you ticklish?”


You moved forward again, and Bucky released your other hand in order to scoot away from you. Determined to catch him before he could slip out of your blanket fort where you knew you would never be able to keep up with him, you lunged forward, effectively knocking him flat on his back.

“No, no, no! Y/N, don’t – Ah!”

His panicked yelp soon dissolved into full-bodied laughter as you straddled him, breaking into breathless giggles yourself as you batted away his half-hearted attempts at pushing you away with one hand and continuing your tickle attacks with the other.

In a desperate attempt to escape, Bucky reached out for something, anything, help him drag himself out from under you. His hand closed around what he thought was the leg of the couch, and for a moment he was filled with hope. It was easily the sturdiest and heaviest piece of furniture in the room. But one strong tug was enough to reveal his mistake, and you both froze in wide-eyed horror as the end table toppled over, sending the treasured Iron Man lamp and the corner of your blanket roof down to the floor with a resounding crash.  

The two of you fought with the collapsing roof, shoving at it when it draped heavily over your heads. You were forced to lean down within an inch of Bucky’s face in order to see him, with Bucky holding the blanket up in a low tent over your heads with one arm. There was a long moment of silence while you stared at each other before you both broke into a fit of quiet laughter.

“Was that…”

“The lamp,” you confirmed through hysterical giggles. “This is horrible! I – Oh God! We shouldn’t be laughing. Tony is going to kill us. He loves that stupid thing.”

To your credit, you managed to quiet down for a few seconds of solemn silence before a whale noise from the documentary that was still playing somewhere behind you set you both off again. It wasn’t until you turned your head down to muffle your laughter against Bucky’s shoulder that you realized the rather compromising position you found yourselves in. You were stretched out entirely on top of him, hands fisted in the blanket on either side of his head. At some point during your hysterics, Bucky’s arms had found a home around your waist and the blanket once again rested over your heads, though with your current proximity it didn’t much matter. When you tilted your head up again you found his lips were far too close for comfort, curled into the softest smile you had ever seen.

“What are you thinking about?” Bucky asked quietly as you fell silent. You shook your head absently.

“That’s an awfully nice smile. What are you thinking about?”

“Sea turtles.”

You scoffed lightly, poking his nose as it crinkled again with his laughter.

“You must be very fond of sea turtles,” you said, smiling affectionately down at Bucky and shaking your head at his ridiculousness.

“Mhmm… and I think…” his voice trailed off, and the earlier tension returned as his smile faded.

“You think what?” you asked, fingers moving restlessly to brush lightly through is hair.

“I really want to kiss you,” Bucky whispered, pausing just a moment to gauge your reaction before sliding one hand up from your waist to cradle the back of your head.

He tilted his head forward, only having to wait for the briefest of seconds before you covered the rest of the distance yourself. One kiss became two. Two became three: a series of soft experimental pecks, each sweeter than the last, before Bucky tightened his hold on you, pulling you in for a longer, firmer kiss.

“Wow,” you murmured as you broke away, unable, for the time being, to draw your eyes away from those warm, gently smiling lips. “You are really passionate about sea turtles.”

“Shut up!” he scoffed as you giggled at your own joke. “You know what? I’m going to throw an ocean party, and you’re not invited.”

“James Buchanan Barnes, don’t you da –”

You never had a chance to finish your threat, cut off by a horrified gasp and the sudden influx of light when the blanket was ripped off of you by an angry Tony brandishing the mangled remains of the table lamp.


Rooftop │a.i

credit to the original owner of gif
Requested: no
Pairing: Ashton x Reader


REMEMBER TO USE THE TAG #valentine!5sos blurb night w kat and catie

Description: Ashton takes his BFF out on a purely platonic date but how platonic is it actually?

“Can I take the blindfold off soon?” You murmured under the thick piece of black cloth covering pretty much your whole face.

“Just a few steps more,” Ashton whispered in your ear, his hands by your waist guiding you up a staircase. Your heart was pounding against your chest as Ashton stopped and let go of you.

“Ash, where are you?” You panicked as soon as you couldn’t feel his warm hands on your body anymore.

“I’m still here, just gotta open the door.” He mumbled, almost as if it was the biggest secret ever. You let out a heavy sigh as soon as he answered and with the click of a door being opened, he quickly walked back and guided you the last couple of steps.

You had never in your life thought that you would have gone out with Ashton Irwin, your best friend. Never had you ever thought that you would have stood blindfolded in front of him in any kind of way. But here you were, blindfolded and on a date with Ashton. Even though it was purely platonic.

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Ah! Why Because the Dazzling Sun

by Emily Brontë

Ah! why, because the dazzling sun
Restored my earth to joy
Have you departed, every one,
And left a desert sky?

All through the night, your glorious eyes
Were gazing down in mine,
And with a full heart’s thankful sighs
I blessed that watch divine!

I was at peace, and drank your beams
As they were life to me
And revelled in my changeful dreams
Like petrel on the sea.

Thought followed thought—star followed star
Through boundless regions on,
While one sweet influence, near and far,
Thrilled through and proved us one.

Why did the morning rise to break
So great, so pure a spell,
And scorch with fire the tranquil cheek
Where your cool radiance fell?

Blood-red he rose, and arrow-straight,
His fierce beams struck my brow;
The soul of Nature sprang elate,
But mine sank sad and low!

My lids closed down—yet through their veil
I saw him blazing still;
And bathe in gold the misty dale,
And flash upon the hill.

I turned me to the pillow then
To call back Night, and see
Your worlds of solemn light, again
Throb with my heart and me!

It would not do—the pillow glowed
And glowed both roof and floor,
And birds sang loudly in the wood,
And fresh winds shook the door.

The curtains waved, the wakened flies
Were murmuring round my room,
Imprisoned there, till I should rise
And give them leave to roam.

O Stars and Dreams and Gentle Night;
O Night and Stars return!
And hide me from the hostile light
That does not warm, but burn—

That drains the blood of suffering men;
Drinks tears, instead of dew:
Let me sleep through his blinding reign,
And only wake with you!

The Pillow

“All right, who was the smartass?” Raven growled at her friends assembled in the Ops room.  They all stopped what they were doing and looked at her.  She wore her usual expressionless mask and her eyes were calm, but her voice betrayed just a hint of otherworldly menace.

“What is it, Rae?” their leader broke a brief period of confused silence.

The sorceress’ face creased into a small frown. “Someone entered my room while I was meditating on the roof and stole my pillow.”

All heads turned to Beast Boy. He blushed.

“Dude! That’s so not fair! Why are all of you jumpin’ at me?

“Grass Stain…” Cyborg drawled warningly. Beast Boy frowned.

“Oh, I geddit. It had to be Beastie. The prankster. The immature one. The idiot.

He tossed the game controller on the coffee table, rose from the couch and went to the door, pushing past Raven. As he reached the exit, he turned to face them again.

“I’m tired and I want to sleep,” he said in an icy voice. “If you’re going to search my room, do it right now.”

“I ain’t gonna be searchin’ yer room, Evergreen!” Cyborg chuckled. “I don’t have my hazmat suit with me!”

Beast Boy’s face darkened with anger. He glared at Cyborg, then turned around and stormed away. Raven watched him leave with a raised eyebrow.

[Click on the link below for the rest]

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Phichuuri Week Day 1: Firsts & Sleepovers

It’s still Sunday where I am aaaaaaaa (Also on ao3) This is just a big ole pile of fluff @phichuuriweek

At the end of every week, Yuuri’s last class ends at three and Phichit’s at two. Phichit’s usual Friday routine is to chat with some friends at one of the coffee shops on campus for an hour, and then meet Yuuri outside the building of that class.

As the lecture finally wraps up, Yuuri packed up his notes and practically skiped down the stairs, a little pep in his step at the thought of the weekend. Classes are always draining, and Yuuri always craved the weekend as a time to let his mind relax, escaping to the rink or with some videogames.

The afternoon sun blinded him for a moment, but then Yuuri is greeted by the cheerful smile of his best friend. Phichit slides his phone into his pocket before handing Yuuri a cup of hot chocolate.

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meet me in the stars

Dedication: For InuKag Week 2017 Day 6: Stars

Summary: Kagome never realized how much she equated the stars with the gold in Inuyasha’s eyes until they were gone.

Pairing: Inuyasha/Kagome

Warning: n/a

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anonymous asked:

I can guarantee u that everytime you reblog a post about TC blogs that don't romanticize killers a teenage girl who wants to eat Dylann Roof's dick cheese angrily stabs her pillow while she screams ''BUT IT SAYS IN MY BIO I DO NOT CONDONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE''

“I do not condone” is my pet peeve. If you have to say it….🤷🏼‍♀️


Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Word count: 784

A/N: Okay, so this is my very first time posting, anything I’ve written, online. I’m really nervous about this, so pretty please, with cherries on top, be gentle. I hope you will enjoy this little piece, Sending much love to whoever will read it. 
Also, I’m tagging @jarnesbrnes because she is absolutely awesome, and maybe she will take mercy on my soul and give it a read?. 

Tagging @marvelfanfichq as well. Hope you like it. 

When Bucky Barnes escaped Hydra’s claws, he was sure he would be free. Free of everything they had put upon him, but he was wrong. He tried blocking out all the horrors, but there was one thing he could never block out, and the feel of it would follow him everywhere he went. He could always feel the cold.   

The skin biting, blood shivering cold.

He always felt cold.

The cold had always been there, he remembered it from his time with Hydra, but he figured it was because of being frozen in cryo for the most of the time and barely getting to feel the sun on his skin.

But that wasn’t the case.

After the incident in Washington he went into hiding. Traveling to different destinations he found home in Romania. The busy streets and large city of Bucharest was an ideal place for him to disappear into a world of his own.

But he still felt cold.

It didn’t matter how hot the temperature was, he always felt cold. So cold that he found himself layering in clothes to keep it away, but nothing seemed to make the cold disappear.

When Steve showed up, Bucky figured the cold would go away that maybe what he had needed all along was friends around him. The presence of familiarity, the love of a friend.

But it still didn’t happen. No matter what he did or who he was with,

he always seemed to feel cold.

After the chaos in Germany and Siberia, he decided to go back into cryo: for everyone’s safety. The cold was even worse there as it overtook his entire body: his veins, his nerves, his thoughts.

He felt so cold.

One day Bucky could suddenly feel the light hitting his eyelids. He knew that wasn’t normal, because he would normally never feel anything when he was under. Everything stopped for him, even the beating of his heart. Instinct kicked in and he slowly started opening his eyes, and when he looked at the white ceiling, he thought that he might be dreaming. But then he heard the birds chirping and he knew.

He was no longer in cryo.

He still felt cold.

Blinking to better his vision he lifted his head off the soft pillow and saw roof to floor windows. That explained why light hit his face.  

Scanning his surroundings, he concluded that he was in someone’s room and was lying in a very large, very soft bed. It was a lot better than the tiny mattress he had back in Bucharest, he thought to himself.

He was lost in his own thoughts and was sure he was alone until he heard the humming of a melody. Turning his head to the side to follow the source of the melody he saw you

You were sitting by a desk and was humming away, clearly oblivious to Bucky and his movements. He found a smile creep up to his lips as he watched you deep in thought and focussed on the work in front of you.

Bucky tried lifting himself up in a sitting position, when he suddenly lost his balance, forgetting that he was missing his left arm, and he let out an involuntary gasp. You were there in an instant, your hands on his waist as you helped him sit up straight and he felt it.

You quickly let go of him and went to pour a glass of water and offered it to him. Thanking you, he took the glass and he felt it again when his fingers brushed yours.

You were warm.

You smiled at him.

“Mr. Barnes, ehm, good morning” you said with a smile that made your eyes glisten and Bucky smiled again.

“Good morning” he found himself reply, politely. His voice was a tad hoarse from not having been used in a long time.

“Do you remember where you are?” You asked politely. He nodded slowly, not taking his eyes of you.

“Wakanda” he replied and a small laugh escaped his lips when he saw your eyes light up.

And when you informed him how the doctors had found a way to help him with the trigger words, you smiled again, this time with a laugh escaping your own lips.

And there it was again: warmth

Bucky Barnes had always felt cold, but when he met you, he felt warm again.

Whenever you were near, whenever he touched your body, kissed your lips, heard your laughter or saw your smile.

He felt warm.

And that is when he understood: He had always been cold, even before Hydra.

Because the only warmth he was ever supposed to feel

was you.

Thoughts? I would love to hear what you think. xx

Starry Night

for @afterwekillitwecangotodisneyland, runner-up of the 2k contest.

A small sigh came from you, looking out the window. You had always been a fan of the night sky and the mystery it held.

“Why such a long face?” Bucky asked. A careless shrug before you turned to look at him.

“I’ve always been a fan of the stars. I wish….I wish I could around with them, see the moon so closely.” You said, going back to the window. Bucky stood by your side.

“Well I can’t give you that chance, but I can bring you closer.” He suggested. 

Bucky helped you up. He brought you to a closet full of linens. He stuffed blankets and pillows. He grabbed some other blankets before leading you to the roof. 

The tower roof was nice and clear. You helped Bucky make a nest and the two of you curled up together. His hold was so warming on this chilly night.

“So do you know names of the stars?” Bucky asked. Your eyes were trained on the moon, shining so bright on you. 

“Of course. See that one over there,” You pointed to one right over you, “It’s called Algol. There are thousands.” 

Bucky nodded before pulling the blanket closer over the two of you. 

“That’s amazing. What about…that one?” Bucky pointed to a random one. You nodded.

The rest of the night was spent star gazing and talking about them. You had never felt more peaceful.

The Painter

PICTURE: @youngandmadeof 

Anonymous: Could you please do Painter Harry. AU too! 


The sun hardly shone through the blinds but the sound of falling rain drops echoed against the roof. You grumbled against the pillow and reached over to the over side of the bed. It was empty. You lifted your face from the pillow and saw Harry’s side of the bed empty.

And then you could hear the familiar strums of the guitar from Harry and yours favourite song. You sighed contently and pulled yourself out of bed, grabbing Harry’s hoodie from the chair and made your way out of the bedroom. 

You shared a tiny apartment which you both struggled to pay the rent for at times but it was perfect. You didn’t need a big house or expensive cars. You had your tiny flat and the tube. 

You yawed into your hands as your walked through to the kitchen where you were greeted with a dust sheet on the floor with various paints surrounded on it. Yet there was no Harry. 

You tiptoed around the paint splodges over to the counter where you flicked the kettle on. You tilted your head to the side trying to figure out what Harry had started to paint on the canvas propped up on the easel you brought him for Christmas. You worked double shifts in order to pay for a good quality easel and a set of new and rather expensive acrylic paints. 

It wasn’t much but Harry’s face lit up like a light when he opened it. 

He strolled back into the kitchen with a bunch of brushes in his arms, a palette secured between his teeth. 

He placed them on the dust sheet and you walked over to him.

“Morning.” He said to you, kissing your forehead. 

“What’s my Picasso painting this morning then?” You chuckled, looking around the dust sheet. He simply shrugged. 

“Just thought I’d try out the new acrylics you got me. And then we’ll see what it looks like from there.” You simply nodded and went back to the counter, pouring yourself a cup of coffee.

You had to sit on the worktop since the Harry had occupied the floor. You watched him sit on the breakfast stool and stroke his brush against the canvas. It never failed to amaze you. 

Harry was extremely talented with his art work but he never liked to show it off. You insisted on putting them up around the flat but he would always disagree claiming his parents wouldn’t like it.

But when he was painting, he was a different person. Yes, he liked to have company but he liked his space when it came to painting. You didn’t mind this at all. 

“You know, we could go out for a walk later if the rain clears up?” Harry spoke from his little cocoon of silence. 

“Sounds good to me.” You replied, scrolling through your phone. 

“I’ve also heard that the art shop is having a sale. Just heard you know. That’s all…” He trailed off, slowly peeking at you. You rose an eyebrow at his unsubtle hints. 

“Okay, H, we can look for more paint.”

He smiled to himself as he went back to painting. You chuckled and walked past him, kissing his messy bun lightly. 

“(Y/N)?” Harry called after you as you left the kitchen. You turned round and saw him blushing. “You’ve got paint on your shorts…” Your eyes widened and you tried to look over your shoulder. 

Eventually you gave up and took your shorts off. You examined them to find blue splodges all over the back of them. 

“How did these even get on there?!” You whined. Harry simply chuckled. 

“That’s what you get when you live with a painter.” 

Request! Leo x Reader.

You were sitting at the window, staring out at the city when you’re phone buzzed. Pulling your eyes away from the dark clouds, you picked up your phone and smiled as you read your best friends name.
Opening the message, you began to text back.
“Tough night on patrol…can I come over?”
“Of course. See you in ten?”
You put down your phone, still smiling. In all honesty, Leo was more then a friend in your heart. You had so much in common. You were both calm, collected older siblings with a love of books and meditation. You had never met someone that just…got you.
But as strong as your feelings were, you didn’t want to compromise your friendship. So you kept your feelings to yourself. You unlocked the window for when he came around and went into the kitchen to make tea.
Meanwhile, Leonardo was running across the rooftops to your little apartment, still thinking about patrol. He butt heads with his brothers often (and with Raph on a daily basis) but today, Mikey said something that set him off.
“You’re so uptight, brah…just relax for once in your life!”
It wasn’t that Leo didn’t want to, it’s that he couldn’t. He was the oldest and, even though it was sometimes unfair, he had to the leader all of the time. He had to be ‘the example’ for his brothers. And it was exhausting.
He never got to let loose or lash out. You were the only one he could really talk to about this. To be honest though, he didn’t talk about his problems much. Just being near you was enough.
He landed on your balcony and opened the window. Stepping into your bedroom, he could smell your conditioner and the vanilla candles you loved. He closed his eyes and took in the scents.
“Hey there.”
Opening his eyes, he saw you holding to mugs of tea.
“Thought you might need this.”
He smiled weakly and took the mug. You sat down on your bed and looked up at the turtle. He looked downcast and his blue eyes had lost a bit of their shimmer.
“Leo? Do you want to talk about it?”
He shook his head and sat down beside you. You were quiet for a moment, waiting for the right thing to say. But it didn’t come. Those magic words that make everything better weren’t paying a visit, so you simply said what you felt.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. Sometimes talking doesn’t make anything feel better. But whenever you do, I’ll always be right here okay? I’m not going anywhere.”
You laid back against the pillows and closed your eyes, listening to the first few raindrops hit the roof. Leo looked at you, smiling softly before joining you.
It was quiet but it was nice. And even better…you where with him. He slowly took your hand in his and held it. You squeezed gently and smiled.

It’s winter and Credence has been living with Graves for a while now. He has a room to himself, with a bed bigger than any he’s ever seen, far cozier than the cot he had when living under Mary Lou’s roof. There are blankets and more pillows than he’ll ever need, and he is warm despite the snowflakes falling outside.

Unlike every morning he isn’t alone. Credence glances at his side, and there, within arm’s reach is Graves. He came to his room in the dead of night when Credence was having a nightmare, and Credence asked him to stay. He didn’t want to be alone. His demons would only torture him further. He needed to see Graves. To feel him. Close. So they slept together, with heads resting over feather pillows looking at one another, not caring if the space between was too small, breaths mingling, heartbeats ringing so loud in unison. Graves fell asleep first. His eyes tired around the corners, a slight furrow in his brow, lips tightened a bit.

Credence finally drifted off seeing the rise and fall of the man’s chest, his lashes fluttering every once in a while, dreaming perhaps, seeing things Credence couldn’t.

And now the sun has awoken, bleak and muted, a bright, blurred spot in the grey skies, and Credence is looking at Graves as he wakes up. The man turns a little, shifting closer, head lolling over the pillow. His hand comes to rest near the shadow of his jaw, and then he’s making this sound, this groggy, moan-like sound that makes Credence’s heart beat faster, makes him want to reach the man if only with the tip of his fingers, to touch him, to make sure he is real. He is here, right next to Credence. In bed. Vulnerable. Alive. Human.

Graves opens his eyes as if the light is too dazzling, as if the sun itself was staring back at him, and those dark, almost black eyes are glassy and slightly puffy and red, heavy with sleep, and then there’s a soft curl of his lips, tentative, unsure, but oh so very honest and pure, and as the man breathes out a raspy ‘good morning’ Credence believes he’s found, at last, the place where he belongs.