sleepiing beauty

anonymous asked:

can we talk about sleepy harry? like, you both got home late from an event & he's in bed, waiting for you, the blankets covering just his lower half despite it being freezing & he's watching you in the bathroom as you brush your teeth & take your makeup off, watching you as you strip to nothing. & h views this moment as so intimate because he takes the time to appreciate how ethereal your body is - it isn't have stretch marks & some imperfections, but he doesn't follow the (c)

conventional definition of beauty. He’s watching you as you pull on a new pair of panties & a shirt of his that has now become yours (maybe the one that has “styles” stitched in it?) & he turns on his side to watch you crawl into bed, pulling the blankets over you & you both lay there in complete silence, just looking at each other because one day, you might not have the opportunity to look at him or he might not have the opportunity to look at you. So you inch forward until you’re on his pillow & your lips as centimeters apart & you can feel how dense the air is from the close proximity as his hand ghosts over your clothed hip before pulling you gently closer & you take his top lip between yours for just a couple of seconds, your hand gently resting on his cheek that has come to adorn a bit of scruff that you’ve been bugging him to get rid of but he always refutes it with “’m finally a man, after 22 years” but you’re brushing your thumb back & forth against it & you notice every detail in his face; the cracks in his lips, the couple of blemishes on his cheeks, the lines forming right between his brows because he scrunches that area way too often, the veins in his eyes that meet at a viridescent pool that you’ve seen on other people, but for some reason, it’s different on him.

& you lean forward again, pressing your lips to his, vehemence dripping from your lips onto his & you’re grabbing at his shirt & he’s pulling at your hips - but there’s no lust. But as you two lay here, there’s a transference of boundless love. & he’s placing big, hot, wet kisses to your neck as you lay on your back, your fingers threading through his hair & you can feel the temper of each kiss against you skin & when things finally calm down between you guys, your head is laying on his outstretched arm as his other one is wrapped around you securely & he’s looking at you as he thinks to himself,  “Give this girl happiness and if sadness still lingers in her eyes, give her whatever happiness is left of mine.” ~S    


S…this is seriously from a novel and is so, so soothing. Please tell me you want to do this professionally because you could and you have a gift. Thank you for sharing it with us once again xx


sleeping beauty dean ಥ‿ಥ

Elriel - In Their Garden

So here is the Elriel fic I’ve been working on. Sorry it took so long! My January schedule is crazy so this is likely the only fic I’ll get to before February. 

Thanks for reading!

[Elriel - In Their Garden]

Azriel watched Elain through the window of his small mountain home–their small mountain home. Her hair was like tendrils of liquid gold in the late morning sun. She was singing to herself. That sleepy, beautiful lullaby about the rose and the briar as she clipped the dead off her flowers. They’d build her garden together.

Their garden, Azriel thought. He was still not used to the wording.

When he’d found her, she had not been happy or golden or singing. She’d been bloody and burned and screaming. He shuddered at the memory, but could not keep it at bay.

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The Fandoms right now....
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