the drift is silence

The Signs as Nymphs
  • Aries: Lampades, the nymphs of the Underworld; these nymphs serve both Persephone and Hecate, powerful goddesses, as ladies in waiting and torchbearers. Their skin and eyes glimmer like a candle's flame, colored a brilliant, heady orange or as dark as coal; their smiles are blinding and their laugh is like the crackle of a flame.
  • Taurus: Alseides, the nymphs of glens; Taurean nymphs reside in meadows and groves, basking in the sunshine, walking with the deer and caring for the plants and animals; their skin is always rosy and sun-kissed and it shimmers like gold and smattered with the same soft pattern as a doe, and eyes like a doe's as well, thick hair braided intricately and decorated with flowers.
  • Gemini: Aurae, nymphs of the breeze; Gemini nymphs drift through the air, playing with human's hair and dancing through the leaves. Their skin is a soft, silvery blue, smooth as the sky, only broken by the small scales scattered across their cheeks and joints, all radiant blue; their hair floats around them and their voice is like chimes.
  • Cancer: Limnades, nymphs of lakes; these quiet nymphs drift through the murky water of lakes, playing with the fish and basking with alligators and turtles, and seducing anyone who might pass by. Their skin shimmers dully, slightly green in tint and their faces are tattooed with dark green stripes that decorate their cheeks like a trail of tears.
  • Leo: Anthousai, nymphs of flowers; these playful nymphs play in the forests, fields and gardens, flirting with unwitting humans and decorating themselves with flowers and plants. They smell like lilies and jasmine so butterflies flutter around their heads; their skin is patterned like irises, brilliant purples, golds and pinks, delicate like a water painting.
  • Virgo: Hydryades, nymphs of the trees; these quiet nymphs reside within trees and forests where they care for animals. Virgoan nymphs' skin is camouflaged so that they may blend in with the trees, dark and intricate patterns which stretch across their backs and decorate their faces, eyes slitted like a reptile's.
  • Libra: Nephelai, nymphs of the clouds; Libran nymphs are very rarely seen by humans as they reside in the clouds; they are dreamy, quiet and peaceful creatures who fly with the birds and provide the world with rain. Their skin is like pearl which varies from the softest white to the angry grey of a storm, their eyes are as pink as the sunrise and their hair floats around them in a haze.
  • Scorpio: Naiads, nymphs of freshwater; these nymphs can be found in rivers, lakes and springs where they hunt fish and anything else that wanders too close to the water's edge. They also seduce any humans who happen upon them. Their eyes are large and dark to see underwater, their hair a messy tangle and nails long and sharp; their skin is scaled like a koi's but a brilliant silver or bronze.
  • Sagittarius: Epimeliad, nymphs of apple tress and flocks; Sagittarian nymphs follow flocks and explore the world around them, playing with horses and cows and goats and seducing their owners; when they sleep they return to their original state, an apple tree. Their eyes are bright like a spark, their hair white like apple blossoms and wool and their skin is patterned like the bark of a tree.
  • Capricorn: Oreiades, nymphs of the mountains; these nymphs are highly reclusive and quiet, they reside in the most remote mountains in the world and are very rarely seen by humans. They resemble the animal of their Sign, their pupils rectangular and their eyes a sharp gold, small horns curving from their foreheads; their hair is kept in tight pleats, their skin speckled softly to blend in with the jagged rocks.
  • Aquarius: Asteriai, nymphs of the stars; these nymphs live far away in the vast expanses of space where they drift and play in complete silence: constellations are their embrace, shooting stars their tears. Their skin is as brilliant as the sun, golden, red and even deep blue, and it shimmers in an unending pulse of light.
  • Pisces: Haliae, nymphs of the sea; Piscean nymphs reside in the sea and can occasionally be spotted dancing on the seashore. Their hair reaches their ankles, strands of pearls and shells woven within it; their skin has a pearlescent sheen from years spent in the water and small scales, pink and pearl-like, decorate their webbed hands and creep up their legs.

Would you believe this was inspired by the beginning of Shrek? Yes. Because it’s the same.


“Next!”

Stiles dragged his feet a bit as Hilda tugged him forward in line. He was chained up and surrounded by guards, probably about to be sold into slavery, but he still wasn’t going to make this easy for the old broad.

He’d been buying her produce for years, and this was how she repaid him? Selling him to the king for some supernatural creature bounty? No. He was going to make this as difficult as possible.

She glared her beady little eyes at him, dug her sharp nails into his arm a bit more, and shoved him forward another lurching step. The fae at the front of the line was deemed worth twenty pounds, ten shillings and hauled off by knights in armor.

“Next!”

A hellhound was dragged forward in an iron collar.

“I will give you money if you just let me go,” Stiles whispered, he wasn’t above bargaining, but Hilda ignored him. He didn’t have much, but it was probably more than she’d get from these chumps. “Six shillings, right now.”

Hilda rolled her eyes and tugged him forward by the chain looped around his wrists. The hellhound was appraised and hauled off into the back of a closed wagon. It was no doubt magically reinforced; Stiles could still hear it snarling violently, but it wasn’t breaking through the old rickety wooden sides.

“Next!”

“Ten shillings,” Stiles continued, “right as soon as I can get to the bank. Twenty, even! Three pounds!”

Hilda gave him a withering look. “You don’t have that kind of money. Now shut up.” She yanked on his chain and both wrists burned as the iron manacles scraped against the already raw skin. The iron was bad enough without all of the jerking around.

Another supernatural creature was carried off to the wagon—this time a nymph—and then it was Stiles’ turn.

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8

get to know me[1/?] female characters: sansa stark (game of thrones/asoiaf)

The snow drifted down and down, all in ghostly silence, and lay thick and unbroken on the ground. It was a place of whites and blacks and greys. White towers and white snow and white statues, black shadows and black trees, the dark grey sky above. A pure world, Sansa thought. I do not belong here. Yet she stepped out all the same.

6

The snow drifted down and down, all in ghostly silence, and lay thick and unbroken on the ground. It was a place of whites and blacks and greys. White towers and white snow and white statues, black shadows and black trees, the dark grey sky above. A pure world, Sansa thought. I do not belong here. Yet she stepped out all the same.

Wait For Me To Come Home - Sebastian x Reader - One Shot

Originally posted by mebeingbored1

A/N - Got myself into the little sebby family mood again. Featuring Isabella as always aha.

Sebastian x Reader - You are completely secure in your relationship with Sebastian, until you start reading some articles that make you doubt yourself. Sebastian gets rid of your insecurities by helping you relive some of your memories together.

Warnings: Fluff and angst  - It’s a long one.

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The Fourth Musketeer (Part 5)

Originally posted by jughead-thethird

Part one here     Part two here     Part three here     Part four here

Requests: Part 5 of The Fourth Musketeers por favor, I’m in love with this series

There’s gonna be a part 5 for the four musketeers??? YEYYYY

Please please please please please please please please please please please please more Fourth Musketeers Please please please please please please please please please please please please Please please please please please please please please please please please please !!!😊😊😊😊😊

hey! can you please do a part five of the four musketeers?! I’m so hooked! I need more! have a great day 💕

your writing is AMAZING!!💘oh and no rush but part 5 of Fourth Musketeer pls!! lots of love heheh😽

Hi! is part five of the four musketeers coming out soon? it’s really amazing!

Pairing: Archie x Reader

Description: A few days of an agonizing wait and the court case’s outcome.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,309

A/N: wowowow that was a long wait, sorry guys!  here’s the final part, enjoy!


On a quaint Thursday night, the Andrews sat in their dining room, enjoying the pepperoni pizza they ordered.  Their quiet dinner was disturbed by a soft knock on the door.  Fred Andrews was the first to stand, so he opened the door to reveal a disheveled eight year old.

“(Y/N)?” he questioned, opening the door wider.  She looked up at him with sad, wide eyes.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Andrews,” she apologized, “but my parents are yelling a lot again, and you said that if it ever got a bit too much-”

“That you are welcome here,” Fred finished, a comforting smile on his face.  “Of course you can come in, (Y/N).  Hell, stay the night if you need to.”

“Thank you, Mr. Andrews,” (Y/N) whispered her gratitude as she stepped inside.  She wasn’t acting shy because she was uncomfortable around Archie’s parents; it was because she thought she was intruding.

“Archie, look who’s joining us for dinner!” Fred called out.  Immediately, a loud thump echoed through the Andrews household as Archie leapt off his chair.  He sprinted towards the doorway, where he knew (Y/N) was standing.

“(Y/N)!” Archie exclaimed, excitedly jumping.  All of (Y/N)’s tentativeness suddenly vanished as she laid eyes on her best friend. “You’re just in time!  The pizza is still warm!”

“Pepperoni?”

“Of course!”  The two children feverishly ran into the kitchen.  Mrs. Andrews warmly welcomed (Y/N) and assisted her in grabbing two slices of pizza.  When both Archie and (Y/N) were occupied in conversation, Mary stepped out into the hallway with Fred.

“Not that I don’t love that girl,” she whispered to her husband, “but she’s here a lot.  Too much, considering the circumstances.”

“I know, I know,” Fred sighed, pressing his fingers against his temple.  “But we can’t do anything.  You know we can’t talk to her parents, that’ll make it worse.”

“But maybe if they just got some counseling-”

“Have you met her parents?” he interrupted her.  “They’re both too headstrong to ever listen to each other, even with a licensed therapist present.  The only thing we can do is help (Y/N) wait out the storm.  Hopefully it’ll be over soon.”


“It feels like this has been going on for my whole life,” (Y/N) explained to Kevin as she stabbed at her salad.  “I mean, my parents have been fighting for as long as I can remember.  Honestly, I’m surprised it took them this long to file for a divorce.”  Kevin shifted in his chair.

“This is so dramatic,” he commented, slightly leaning forward in interest.  “I know Jughead has already written a novel about yours and Archie’s tragic romance, but he seriously needs to write a sequel.”   (Y/N) laughed and shook her head.  

“Well everything’s at a standstill right now,” she shrugged.  “All we can do is wait.”

“For the court case to be over?”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) nodded. “I gave my statement, so now my mom and dad battle it out in court to decide who gets custody.”

“Basically, they’re deciding where you’re gonna live and how your life is gonna pan out,” Kevin paraphrased. (Y/N) nodded glumly.

“Exactly.”

“And you can’t do anything else?” Kevin asked.  (Y/N) shook her head.

“No,” she answered.  “Like I said before, we just have to ride out the storm and hope for the best.”

“And what happens if your dad wins?”

“I go back to New York. I live there until I’m eighteen and then I’ll go to whatever college I get into,” she sighed.  

“What about Archie?” he questioned.  She pursed her lips.

“There’s nothing I can do about him.”

“But will you guys still be a thing?” Kevin inquired.  “Will you keep in touch this time?  Oh god please don’t let this die out again, you have no idea how much I need you two to be endgame.”

“We’ll see, Kevin,” (Y/N) giggled.  “I want to keep in touch.  Hell, I tried last time.  If I move back to New York, it’s up to Archie to keep in touch with me.”


“So how’s it going with (Y/N)?” Jughead asked Archie one night at dinner.  Archie glanced up from his plate, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“The court case,” Jughead elaborated.  “Do you know what’s going on?”

“I only know what (Y/N) knows,” Archie answered.  “She gave her statement a few days ago, so now her parents have to go into the courthouse in two days-”

“And that’s when (Y/N)’s fate will be decided,” Jughead dramatically finished.  Archie nodded and returned to his food.

“Yup, that pretty much sums it up.”

“But even if (Y/N) does have to move back to New York, you’re still gonna keep in touch with her, right?” Jughead questioned.  When Archie didn’t respond, Jughead dropped his fork as he stared disbelievingly at his friend.  “You’re gonna cut her off again?”

“I’m not going to cut her off, Jug,” Archie fired back.  “I know I screwed up last time, and I’m not planning on doing that again.  I just… I don’t want to think about that right now. I’d rather just ignorantly believe that (Y/N) will stay in Riverdale.”

“Archie,” Jughead placed a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder, “you can’t put yourself through denial again.  It’s not good for you.”

“But it’s so much easier, Jug,” Archie sighed.  

“It may be easier now,” he warned, “but the consequences are more severe, Arch.  Think about when you acted like (Y/N) didn’t exist after she left. It may have been easier for you while she was gone, but when she came back, she was furious.  Imagine the kind of relationship the two of you could’ve had by now if you hadn’t been in denial for so long.”  Archie sighed at this, knowing that Jughead was right.  “You can postpone the pain, Archie, but you can’t prevent it.”


Two nights later, (Y/N) was staying over at the Andrews’s house.  Her parents were still at the courthouse.  She and Archie hovered over her phone all evening, awaiting the phone call that would announce who she had to live with.  The phone call that determined her fate.  

At around midnight, they gave up on waiting.  Archie and (Y/N) retired to Archie’s bedroom, where they curled up in the bed together. (Y/N) set her phone down on the nightstand, but she refused to take her eyes off of it.

“Go to sleep,” Archie mumbled, wrapping an arm around her waist.  (Y/N) shifted so that her back was pressed against his.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “What if they call and I’m asleep?”

“You turned your ringer volume all the way up, (Y/N),” he reminded her.  “If you’re asleep when they call, it’ll wake you up.”  (Y/N) sighed but didn’t respond.  Archie noticed her breathing began to slow down, so he figured she was falling asleep.  He, too, was beginning to drift off until a shrill ringing disturbed their sleepy silence.

“The phone!” (Y/N) exclaimed, immediately sitting up.  She, tangled in the bedsheets, rolled over towards the nightstand and quickly snatched her phone.  She pressed the answer button and held the phone to her ear.  Archie tried to listen to the other line, but he couldn’t hear it.

“Okay,” (Y/N) responded, nodding.  There was another break of silence as the person on the other line talked.  “And that’s the outcome?  It can’t be reversed?”  Another pause.  “Alright, thank you.”  She hung up the phone and slowly set it down.  Archie turned on the lamp as he stared at (Y/N).

“So?” he inquired.  “What happened?”  

“I’m staying,” (Y/N) muttered quietly, still in shock over the outcome.

“You’re staying?” Archie excitedly repeated.  “For good?”

“Yeah,” she grinned.  He tugged her into a tight hug.  “I’m staying in Riverdale, Arch!  I won’t leave you ever again.”  He slowly pulled out of the embrace and smiled at her.

“Good,” he replied, and he crashed his lips against hers.

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we may be hollow, but we’re brave

Summary: Even had insisted they spend the night before their wedding apart, because he’s dramatic as fuck, but he ends up calling Isak anyway. Isak doesn’t even try to hide how endeared he is.

Words: 1,248

Isak groans as he adjusts the pillow under his head for the thirtieth time that night. It’s the first time in weeks he’s had to fall asleep without Even, and it’s fucking with him bad. Once upon a time, he thought he’d outgrow this urgent need to have Even next to him, touching him, just being with him always. But after a year together, he feels the exact same desperate ache for Even as he had when they first met—when real love, the kind that comes naturally with Even, still felt like a fleeting fantasy. He’s more or less accepted that forever is in his grasp now, but being without him when Isak could so easily drive over to Even’s parents’ place and crawl into his bed, still feels like the worst kind of self-inflicted torture.

He’d whined to Jonas about it for a good two hours earlier, until Jonas had threatened to hand over best man duties to Magnus instead. Isak had been scared enough to shut the fuck up, but not he’d just pouted silently instead. “I can’t wait until Even marries you, this whole engagement has brought out the clingiest, sappiest parts of both of you,” Jonas had complained.

“Do you really think that it’ll get better after we get married?”

Jonas considered this for a moment, before burying his head in his hands. “Fuck, it’ll be even worse.”

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Cheater? (Reggie x Reader)

Request: could you maybe do a reggie and reader imagine where they have been dating for years but he cheats on her and they break up he tries to win her back but she keeps shooting him down but she has a bad fight with her mom and she doesn’t know where else to go to so she goes to reggie’s and he comforts her and they talk and get back together


 You couldn’t get the image out of your head. The thought of Reggie kissing someone that wasn’t you made you sick to your stomach. It was a painful reminder why you didn’t go to party in the first place. Nothing good ever happens when teens have alcohol.  It what ended your relationship with him, you couldn’t trust him anymore.

“Babe I’m sorry I didn’t mean it, I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was doing”  Reggie begged you and tears were forming in his eyes. He didn’t want all of the years that you guys been together to end over some stupid drunken mistake that he had made.

“Please stop Reggie, it’s too late we’re over” You said as tears were falling down your cheeks, you loved him but you couldn’t have him anymore. You felt like all of your air was getting pulled out of you as you try to breath through the tears.

“We can fix it Y/N, don’t give up on us, not yet” Reggie pleaded he was losing you, something that he never thought was possible and it was his own fault.

“You already did Reggie” You let out while your voice was cracking “You broke us”

You sat down at you lunch table, facing away from the football team so you didn’t have to look at Reggie. Betty looked at you as you sat down on side of her, you never sat there. But it came to her mind when she heard the football team laughing from behind her. Reggie, was why you were sitting there.

“You okay?” Betty asked as you finally settle down in your place. You phoned her the night you guys broke up so she knew what had happened.

“Peachy” You said as you took a bite of your sandwich, listening to Veronica and Kevin conversion.

“So Y/N” Veronica started to say as she turned her head to face you “What’s with Reggie and you?” You looked at her figuring Betty already told her but you guessed not.

“Nothing” Veronica leaned over the table and teased

“Come on now Y/N, you don’t just break up with someone like Reggie for no reason. So what is it? Did you start a new high school affair? You lost your breath at Veronica’s last few words. It was hitting to close to home for you. Pushing your tray forward, you quickly got up grabbing your things. Not wanting to let anyone see your tears fell, you ran away to go hide somewhere in the school.

“I told you not to say anything Veronica” Betty shouted just enough so them at the table could heard it.

“I didn’t think much of it, what happened.”

“Reggie cheated on her V” Betty told her as she rolled her eyes, leaving to go find you in the school. When you ran out you didn’t see Reggie watching you. He knew you were gone to cry about what he assumed to be him. He knew you better than anyone, one little look at you he could tell that you were broken. He was the one that caused it and now he wanted to be the one to fix it.


“Hey can we talk?” You heard a voice said as you put your books away. You looked up and came face to face with the last person you wanted to see, Reggie.

“There’s nothing to talk about” You told him as you shut your locker. You looked down the hallway looking for Betty, so you could leave. You didn’t think you could look at Reggie yet, it hasn’t been that long. Plus you were sacred that if you did, you would fall into his arms since you miss him so much.

“Us. That’s what we need to do, not just ignore each other” Reggie said as he ran his fingers through his hair. He was frustrated with himself mostly, knowing that he wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for himself.

“There isn’t an us anymore Reggie, get over it because I have” You left Reggie standing there as you saw Betty so you could go home. You knew he knew you were lying after all no one knew you better than Reggie did.


“THEY NEED TO BE BETTER” Your mother shouted as you guys and your father stood in the living room.

“Mom their fine, one B isn’t going to hurt” You said. Your parent or more like your mom have been yelling at you over the past hour for the B that you got biology. It wasn’t hard to bring it back up and you knew that but your mother wouldn’t listen.

“DON’T TALK BACK TO ME YOUNG LADY” Your mother said as she made her way closer to you. “You live under my house and as long as you do there will be no talking back. B’s aren’t for this family, if you want to be something in life honey you have to get A’s. Your pretty face can only take you so far in life. Men aren’t going to stick around once it disappears for a women who get’s B’s.”

“Honey I thin-” Your dad try to cut in but your mother kept talking not wanting to hear his opinions. It was normal thing for your family, your dad was just to sacred too stand up to your mother.

“You heard me, you will be nothing in life if you keep acting like this. Leave, go on I can’t bare to look at you anymore. You’re a sorry excuse for a daughter.” When you heard your mother’s words you ran out of the house. Tears were flowing but it was nothing new to you lately that’s all you ever seem to be at. You needed somewhere to stay for the night but most importantly you needed someone to talk to you. You never really told your friends about how strict your mother was, only Reggie knew. At this point you didn’t care what had happened to just wanted to see him

Standing on his front porch you knocked, hoping that he was going to be the one to open it. You didn’t want his parents to see you looking like a mess. They would wonder what happened and would start asking questions.

“Y/N” Reggie said as he opened the door taking in your appearance. Your hair was out a place and you had been crying. He could tell from your bloodshot eyes and your wet cheeks. Not saying anything he opened his arms letting you fall into him. You cried into his chest as he carried you up to his room. He knew it was something with your mom, you wouldn’t just come to fix what he broke. He held you for what felt like hours, comforting you making sure you were alright. Not asking questions since he knew you would talk when ready. It take didn’t much longer for your tears to stop falling. You finally lifted your head up from Reggie chest and looks into his brown eyes.

“It’s my mom” Reggie nodded he knew it was but he let you keep talking “I was having trouble with biology and ended up getting a B. Mom wasn’t happy when she saw the mark and started to yell at me. Saying things like I’m just a pretty face and will never make it in life.” You rolled you eyes at your mom stupidly. “It’s one mark that she can’t see pass, she told me to leave so I did so we could both cool off.” Knowing that was the best option, you and your mother were too much alike to be together when mad.

“Not that I mine having you here or anything but why me? I thought you hated me” Reggie let out nervously, not knowing if he wanted your true answer. You smiled

“I could never hate you Reggie, I love you but it’s just so hard” You said leaning on his side. “Love is hard and I didn’t really know how to react. You kiss her and I..I know you didn’t mean it I was there, you were so drunk. I think when it happened I was lost, I felt so many emotions. I hated you for a moment but I couldn’t stay mad when I saw the regret and guilt in you eyes even as drunk as you were. I love you Reggie that’s not going to change, I just needed time to think and get through it all”

“I love you too, I’m sorry again for the pain I caused. It really broke my heart knowing I was the one who did that.”

“I know so ummm would you try again with me?” Reggie looked at you shocked not expecting that from you.

“Yeah I would love too I promise nothing is going to happen again”

“The only thing is we’re going to start from beginning I got to gain your trust back.”

“Yes anything babe” Reggie had a grin across his face, he’s never felt happier to have a second chance before in his life. You smiled once again at him before you leaned back onto his bed.

“Lay with me for awhile?”

“Of course love” So there you two stayed cuddle into each other’s arms. Both of you guys were happy to be back with one another. You both drifted off from the comfortable silence in the room. It was the first full night sleep you guys had since the break up. You guys were finally back where you belonged. And you couldn’t wait to stay there forever.

This City Never Sleeps (When Your Lips Are On Mine)

Word Count: 467

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Requested: “Peter decides to do the whole upside down kiss with his gf and there’s a bunch of giggling and blushing from both parties. Two shy eggs.” -Anonymous

Warnings: None

Summary: Set further in the future of this verse, you and Peter are already dating. Peter wants to try something new.

Note: WE ALL NEED A LITTLE FLUFF TONIGHT, DON’T YOU THINK? Sorry this wasn’t super awkward and second–hand embarrass-y but  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Earlier parts found here.

Tags:  @seargantbcky @darlin-you-bitch @emily-ily2 @rosep16 @comics-and-stuff @t4rt-deco @octopishisahybridanimal @slythergirlimagines @philipshaaayyyy @catwoman2502 @minimalistxx @sophiatomlinson23 @johnsonxstilinski @raindancer2004 @vanessly 


“Peter, what are you doing on the ceiling?” you asked, entering your room with soda and popcorn in hand. Peter didn’t usually use his powers around your house, and especially not when he wasn’t even wearing his suit.

“I, uh… I want to try something,” he replied. There was a little flush in his cheeks, but you couldn’t tell if it was from being upside down or if he was embarrassed about something.

“Okay?” you said, waiting for him to do a flip or some other stunt. He didn’t say anything, just looked at you for a few moments, the redness under his skin growing deeper. “Peter?”

“Come here,” he finally said. A determination set in his eyes. You set the snacks down on your desk and walked over to him. Slowly, he released web out of his shooters and gradually dropped down from the ceiling until his face was just inches from yours.

“Peter?” you asked again, swallowing nervously. You could feel his gently breath on your face. You could smell the intoxicating combination of his deodorant, cologne, and skin. You felt your own skin ignite, and your knees trembled.

Even after dating for this long, he still made your heart race.

“Kiss me,” Peter said quietly. His voice was shaky and nervous. You didn’t even bother questioning it, you just slid your fingers into his hair and pulled his mouth to yours.

It was a little awkward, but incredible nonetheless. It reminded you a lot of your first kiss- all learning and experimenting. It was slow, firm but gentle. You pulled your hands from his hair and settled them on his face, tracing your thumb along his jaw lightly as you angled his head to better connect your lips. You were so used to Peter having his hands all over you when you kissed- in your hair, on your neck, around your waist- and it electrified the thrill in your veins to have him completely at your mercy.

When you finally broke apart, your breathing was heavy. You locked eyes for a moment, both unwilling to break the silence. Your eyes drifted shut and you smiled, letting out a little laugh as you tangled your fingers in his hair again.

“That was…” you said, licking your lips. “That was interesting.”

“Just interesting?” Peter laughed. He started to flip himself over, and you took a small step back, watching the muscles arms and his abs work as he gracefully landed on the floor. You were sad to see his shirt fall back into place. You grabbed him by the collar and sat him down in your desk chair, putting one knee between his and leaning in close. His hands wrapped around your hips.

“It was way more than interesting,” you whispered, connecting your lips once more.

I’ll Be Seeing You

MASTERLIST

SEND ME A REQUEST

Characters: Bucky x reader

Summary: You lost your vision at a young age due to an infection in your brain and you’ve coped with it well. You’re a successful professor at a local university, casually making your way down the hall when your friend and college Helen Cho introduces you to Bucky. You grow close over several months of late night coffee and the occasional stay in your apartment, but Bucky doesn’t want to tell you who he really is in fear of scaring you off. What happens when a miracle procedure might give you back your sight?

Warnings: light swearing, blind!reader (for most of it)

Words: 4726

A/N: Okay before you read this, I am not blind, I do not know anyone who is blind and therefore this is my BEST ATTEMPT to write from the perspective of someone who is visually impaired. Please don’t be too hard on this. 


It’s amazing just how much of someone you can see when you can’t actually see them.

Your day started out like it always did; with the sound of your alarm blaring in your ear. You reached out to tap at your phone screen, one, two, three times until you finally hit the correct place that disabled the alarm.

The wind whistled and you heard the patter of rain outside of your small apartment. It must be horrible weather, you thought to yourself. You pulled the covers of your bed off of your body and sat up, dangling your feet over the edge of the mattress. 

You propped yourself out of your bed’s compound, feeling along the wall to find the door so you could walk out of your bedroom. Once you’d managed to exit your room, you traced your hand along the walls of the hallways until your fingers caught on a doorway, you turned right.

Your life had been like this for as long as you could remember. You’d lost your sight when you about three years old due to a rare brain infection that the doctors caught a few days too late. It wasn’t all too troubling to you now, you were in your late twenties and had a wonderful job working as an assistant professor at a local university. 

You were happy, every piece of your life seemed to be falling into place… Except of course for love.

You’d been single for so long you almost forgot what it was like to feel someone’s tight and loving embrace or how attached you can get to the smell of the person you love.

So many people had set you up on blind dates - and so many people had made the blind date joke - that every time a friend brought up a ‘wonderful guy’ they knew, you’d shut it down instantly. The blatant truth about every man you’d gone out with on those set ups was this; no one wanted to date the blind girl.

You’d all but given up as you attended friends weddings and baby showers, some of them. Perhaps you weren’t cut out for that kind of life, or at least that’s what you told yourself.

As you went through the motions of making coffee that you’d all but memorized, you felt the empty space of the base of your left ring finger and sighed heavily. 

You drank your coffee in silence, your mind drifting off to the possible face of whoever Mr. Right might be, not that you’d ever see it for yourself.

When you made it back to your closet in your room, you peeled off your sleep shirt, feeling the hangers that hung in your closet for the braille lettering that told you what was hung there.

mom’s favourite dress’

That one you remembered the texture of, it was soft and lightweight but felt beautiful on. You decided that this would be perfect.

You put it on, walking back to your front door and feeling inside the drawers to grab for a pair of flats, which you found instantly by their feel.

You slipped them on and took your keys from the hook that you felt on your right, waiting for the familiar honk of a horn signifying your ride was here. When you heard the sound, you reached forward and grasped the cool metal of the door knob, twisting it and pulling it open, making sure to grab your long cane before you walked out.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” A voice, which you recognized as your co-professor, Helen Cho said.

“Hey!” You said as you felt the padlock for the keyhole, locking it and turning to walk down your porch towards the sound of the idling car.

You felt your cane hit the car lightly, so you felt along the smooth metal surface until you found the handle, opening it and getting inside.

The smell of the mint car air freshener hit your noise rather violently when you entered, but you got used to it after a while.

“Big day today.” Helen said as you began moving.

“Why’s that?” You asked.

“I managed to convince Banner to come and give a lecture on gamma rays.”

“Are you serious?” You gasped. You knew Helen worked for some high end clientele from time to time and only really took up the co prof job because she needed to be busy, but you didn’t know she had that much pull.

“Uh huh.” She said.

“Holy hell.” You mustered, “So we don’t even have to lecture today?”

“Nope, we push everything back for tomorrow.”

“It’s like a day off.” You laughed.


“And so, gamma radiation acts as an invasive form of…”

You had been zoning back in and out of Banner’s lecture, not that it really mattered anyways. It had been about a half hour so you excused yourself, taking your cane and making your way back out into the hallway to take a small walk to stretch your legs. 

You’d made it about halfway down the familiar hallway when you heard a very unfamiliar voice accompanying that of Helen Cho.

“I know it’s hard for you being here, but I figured it would be good for you to meet her, I mean you’re perfect for each other- Oh, hello, (Y/N). Bored of the lecture already?” Helen’s voice said.

“Not that Banner isn’t a wonderful public speaker,” You mused, “But gamma radiation isn’t new for me. Nothing to learn really.”

“I figured as much,” She laughed, “Oh, this is-”

“Bucky.” The voice said.

Bucky had extended his hand shake yours but Helen nudged him and nodded down at the white cane you held in your hand and he understood, his face flushing bright red.

“Okay everyone, I’m blind not stupid.” You laughed, sensing what he’d done based on an immeasurable amount of experience and the awkward silence.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You said, extending your own hand out, which he took.

His hands were warm and rough and calloused, large palms and long fingers, but comfortingly so.

“And you.” He replied, something along the lines of shock in his tone, but you shrugged it away. 

“Well, I’ll let you to get back to it.” You said, quickly dismissing yourself and turning to walk back down the hall when Helen stopped you.

“Wait!” 

You turned back around.

“Bucky and I were going to go out for drinks later tonight, I figured you might want to join?”

You hesitated, social outings weren’t your thing, and Helen knew that.

“Or maybe just coffee?” She rephrased.

“Sure, if you want to meet at my place around 9?”

“God, you are such a nightowl.” Helen laughed.

“Yes or no, dearest, it’s not that hard.” You chided her.

“We’ll be there.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later. Nice meeting you Bucky.”

You finished your day quickly and thanked Helen when she dropped you back off at your apartment, ignoring the ‘wear something nice’ comment she made. You knew she was saying was ‘wear something nice because Bucky is going to be there’, but you didn’t say anything about it.

You didn’t know Bucky, you weren’t looking to impress him. If he turned out to be a great guy after tonight and you saw each other again, maybe you’d consider the whole ‘looking really good’ thing, but not yet. You didn’t want to put that much effort into an appearance that you couldn’t even appreciate yourself.

You made yourself a quick dinner. An aspect of your life that seemed to shock everyone around you was how well you coped independently. You were able to do almost everything by yourself based on muscle memory, hearing, scent, and a little intuition. 

By the time you politely asked siri what time it was, it was around 8:30. You decided to change into a pair of jeans and a soft knit sweater, your favourite one.

You let your hair down from its fastened bun, loose curls hitting your face softly.

A sound of a car door slamming made you slowly make your way to the front door of your flat. You instantly noted that it wasn’t the same sound of slam as Helen’s car.

A buzzer went off and you pressed the button at the door. 

“Who is it?” You asked.

“It’s Bucky.” The voice answered, and you remembered him by the sound.

You liked his voice a lot, it was rough and a bit patchy, but low and smooth sounding somehow.

You unlocked your door and swung it open.

“Hi.” You greeted him, stepping to the side to allow him in.

“Helen sort of bailed.” He admitted, and you noticed that his voice still came from in front of you meaning he hadn’t entered in yet.

This was another schemed date attempt on Helen’s part and you only now figured it out. You mentally cursed yourself for not being wise enough to see through it.

“I just figured I’d swing by and tell you, you probably don’t want to spend the night with a total stranger.” You heard him take a few steps back.

“Well, who said that?” You asked, as if your words came out faster than you could process.

There was something about this man that you liked quite a lot, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. He had an aura about him that you found relaxing.

“The coffee pot is already on, I won’t be able to drink it all by myself.” You said with a smile.

“Alright.” He replied and you felt the wind brush by you as his large frame made it’s way past you.

“Make yourself at home.” You said, moving back into the kitchen once you’d closed the door, “How do you take coffee?”

“Just black would be wonderful.” He said as you waited to hear him sit down on the couch, but no such sound came, “Can I help with anything?”

“Gosh no, sit your ass down.” You laughed, and were overjoyed to hear him do the same.

“Okay, okay.” He said, his footsteps moving back to the living room where he sat on the couch.

You poured the coffee into mugs and carried them out to where Bucky was, knowing he was on the couch. You handed one to him, slightly to the side but close enough that he could reach it, then made your way over to sit beside him.

“So, since it’s now just the two of us, I suppose I should get to know you.” You said.

“Suppose so.” You felt him shift uncomfortably, which made you feel like you needed to back off ever so slightly.

“Unless of course you don’t want to.” You added.

“No, it’s alright. i just don’t usual talk much about myself.” He said.

Bucky wanted to open up to you, just like he wanted to open up to anyone, but you seemed incredibly sweet based on what he’d heard from Helen, and - more importantly - you seemed to not know his history quite yet, so he was unsure about the whole thing.

“Well, you can ask me things and I’ll answer, and if you feel alright with it, you can answer too.” You suggested, sipping your coffee.

“That’s great.” Bucky smiled at your compromise.

For nearly two hours, Bucky asked you a multitude of questions about yourself stemming from what your favourite food was all the way to how old you were when you went blind. After a while, he told you that he wanted you to ask him a few questions, so you questioned him all about his childhood and where he grew up.

Brooklyn was a great place, he explained to you, full of really great people. You loved listening to the sound of his words when you knew a smile appeared on his face, it made everything sound sweeter from his lips.

You were beginning to really like Bucky, you felt a strong bond with him that you hadn’t felt in a long while, and you were enjoying every second of time you spent with him.

“Alright, can I ask you one more thing?” You inquired as a fit of laughter bubbled back down from your chest.

“‘Course.”

“What’s your favourite colour and why?”

“Hmm,” He pondered, “Blue. It’s really calming. Plus it matches my eyes.”

You nodded your head with a laugh, “I wish I knew what colours looked like.”

What you said nearly broke Bucky’s heart, he’d answered the question so nonchalantly.

“I thought you lost sight at three.” He said.

“I did, but even before then I was completely colour blind.”

“Oh,” He said, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” You said, “I asked the question because it’s always interesting for me to hear what different people answer… I’ve always felt like I’d like blue as well.”

“Yeah?” He asked, “Why so?”

“Everyone always says it’s calming, or cool, or reminds them of the ocean. It sounds pretty.”

Bucky stared at you in amazement as a thoughtful smile played on your lips.

“Can I ask you something else?” He said.

“Yeah.”

“How do you recognize people?” He whispered.

“Most of it is by voices, or smells,” You explained, “And if I’m close with someone, I usually memorize their face.”

“Memorize their face?”

“Here, like this.” You said, setting your cup down and reaching your fingertips forward until they landed on his cheeks gently. Your one hand moved to his brow, the other down to his brush over his nose. 

You noticed that he’d tensed when you’d first touched him, but seemed to relax a bit more as your moved you hands along him gingerly.

Your fingers brushed down the stubble that dotted his face, moving down to the strong jawline that lay beneath it. Your other hands moved to brush over his closed eyelids, feeling the long eyelashes under them. The thumb that rested by his jaw went to trace ever so gently along upper lip, then back along his lower. You couldn’t help but noticed the cool air pass by your thumb as he sucked in a breath at your touch.

He felt so handsome, and the conversations that you’d had over the past hour only made you more attracted to him.

“Keep your eyes closed and try to do the same to my face.” You suggested, breaking the silence.

In a moment, you felt one hand reach out and press to your cheek, a thumb tracing its way from your brow down to your nose and lips, resting on your bottom lip much like you had to him.

A sigh came from him as you pressed a small kiss to the pad of his thumb. He couldn’t quite comprehend how sweet you’d been with him, but he wasn’t going to question it, not even for a second.

“You should try two hands.” You said, but Bucky looked down at the hand he wasn’t using, the ugly metal limb, and told you he could get by on just using one.

Your index finger made a trail from his chin down his throat and along his adam’s apple, which caused him to swallow rather hard. You knew the impact that you were having on him and it was something that you were proud of.

When your finger made it’s way back up to his lips, Bucky knew he was done for. You were possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and feeling your touch like this was intoxicating.

“One more question.” He whispered.

“Okay.” You said, enjoying the way his lip felt as it moved under you thumb when he spoke.

“Can I please kiss you?”

This time, you didn’t reply with words, you simply leaned in and kissed him, your lips replacing the spot where your thumb had been. You had never kissed anyone quite like that before, so full of passion. It was as if Bucky was kissing you like he hadn’t been kissed in a long time, and like he worried he might never get the chance again.

When Bucky left that night, you pecked him on the lips again quickly, and he assured you that he’d be in touch. 

He kept to his word, calling the next day and setting up another late night coffee date. It continued this way for a good few months, each other you getting together multiple times a week to talk or listen to music, drinking various kinds of coffee all the while. There were times when he’d even stay the night.

The dangerous part of it all was that Bucky knew he was falling in love with you, but he still didn’t know how to tell you who he was. It scared him so badly because he knew you couldn’t love someone like him. A girl like you, with a beautiful heart who brought smiles to the faces of everyone she met, would never fall in love with him.

It was on one night when he was over at your place that he noticed you seemed different. He tried to shrug it off, to get you to laugh, but you wouldn’t.

Fearing the worst, he asked you what was wrong.

“There’s this trial,” You said, “A doctor called me saying I was eligible to be apart of it. They think they can reboot the part of my brain that causes my blindness. They think they can get me to see, again.” You said, your eyes filling with tears of an emotion Bucky couldn’t recognize.

“That’s great, doll!” He said, rubbing your shoulders.

“I know it is, I’m just terrified of the whole thing.” You admitted, “I’ve lived almost my whole life like this.”

“I know, darlin’, but there’s so much out there that you’re missin’.”

“Can I ask you another question?” You said.

“Of course you can.”

“Can you wait during the procedure? They told me if there was someone I wanted with me, they could wait there and come in afterwards.”

Bucky was shocked that you’d want him there, but he agreed with his whole heart, promising he’d take you there himself.

“I want you to be the first face I see.” You said with a smile.

Bucky had never heard anything so beautiful in his life, so he leaned in to kiss you with everything he had, unable to reply with words.

“I love you.” He blurted out.

You, shocked as anything, pulled away from him. Bucky knew he’d messed up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-” He began but you shushed him.

“I love you too.”

“What?” He asked.

“I love you too.” You repeated.

“(Y/N).” He whispered, pressing his lips back to yours again.

As happy as he was to hear it, he knew that he needed to tell you who he was. If he was going to lose you, then he needed to put himself through it now and not when you put the pieces together yourself.

“I need to tell you something.” He said between feverish kisses.

“Alright.” You said, still keeping up with the kissing.

“I’m not who you think I am.” He said, trying to slow you down.

“What does that mean?” You said, pressing another peck to his lips.

“I’m not- I did- I’m-”

“You’re James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier?” You deadpanned and Bucky’s jaw dropped, “C’mon, did you think I didn’t know? We met through Helen - who doesn’t talk about it, but works with the Avengers, you never stand to my right which means you avoid touching me with your left side, and when you talk about your childhood, it’s painstakingly obvious that you didn’t grow up in the 90′s like most people my age.”

“You knew?”

“I didn’t until the first night you stayed over.” You told him truthfully.

You squeezed his hand when you felt him shift uncomfortably at the memory. Bucky had a terrible nightmare when he’d slept on the couch of your flat one night, and you had to sprint out of your bed to wake him.

Managing to find him, you’d shaken his shoulder gently, pleading for him to wake up until you’d felt him jolt upright.

He called out your name questioning when he saw you next to him, and you explained to him that he’d had a nightmare. You’d instantly sensed his embarrassment as he apologized for waking you, but you were having none of it. 

You knew him well enough at that point to know that he was all talk when he was trying to convince you he’d fall back asleep just fine. You told him to come sleep in your room, and he stammered out what sounded like a dismissal.

Eventually, after telling him you’d hold your breath until he agreed, he caved. You walked him back to your bed, where he laid next to you and held your hand until morning.

Bucky might never tell you, but he got the best sleep of his life that night.

“You knew?” He asked again.

“Yes, and none of it means a damn thing to me.” 

You kissed him again with a burning passion, tongues dancing against one another as opened mouths melded together.

He’d never felt love like this in his life, and neither had you.


“I’m really scared.” You said as you sat in the gurney of the hospital a few weeks after yours and Bucky’s love confession.

“I know, doll, but it’s gonna go great. I’ll be right there when you wake up.” You felt Bucky’s stubble rub against your cheek as he pressed a kiss to it.

“That is the only thing keeping me from losing my mind.” You mustered a small laugh.

You reached forward with both hands, silently asking him to hold them. You felt his right hand grasp your left, leaving your free hand empty.

“Buck…” You whispered, and he reluctantly held your other hand in his left.

You’d assured him that you liked the arm, it was cold and solid and you loved to press your hand to it and feel the plates rotate when he moved. You saw beauty in its mechanics.

“Is it bad that I’m nervous too?” Bucky asked.

“Not really, I will be seeing your face for the first time.”

“You’re not gonna call me ugly are you?”

You burst out laughing, “I know you’re not ugly.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”

“I’ve felt your face.”

“Huh, you can tell by that?” He asked.

“Oh, yes,” You replied, “You’re far from ugly.”

A small laugh passed his lips, and you felt your heart flutter. You loved his laugh so much that it had quickly become your favourite sound on the planet, right in front of the almost unnoticeable sound of the vibranium plates in his arm shifting about late at night when he moved about in his sleep, of course.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)?” You heard the door open and shut closed as someone entered the room.

“Yes?” You asked.

“We’re ready for you now.”

Bucky kissed your forehead as you were wheeled into the operating room, holding your one hand tightly and whispering words of comfort until he was told that he couldn’t go any further with you.

“I love you.” You said, receiving a peck on the lips.

“I love you too.” He said back, “I’ll be waiting.”

“I’ll see you after.”

“Yes, you will.”

You felt his hand slowly retreat as they wheeled you into the room and strapped you down with IVs and God knows what else. When you felt a mask go over your face and you were instructed to count downwards from ten, you enjoyed your last few seconds of darkness before you went under.


When you woke you couldn’t see a thing, which alarmed you to an extent that is completely indescribable.

“Ms. (Y/L/N), you’re up.” A woman said, “The procedure was a success.” 

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“You have a wrap covering your eyes, we needed to shield them because they’re quiet fresh at the whole seeing thing, but you can take it off whenever you’re ready.” Her sweet voice said.

“Bucky.”

“I beg your pardon?” She asked.

“There’s a man named Bucky out there, can you send him in?”

“Of course.”

Bucky was in the room within seconds of hearing his name being called, he knew it meant you were awake and that you were ready to see him.

He was ushered into the room and saw you sitting up in the bed, clad in a hospital gown, a white bandage wrapping around your eyes.

Upon hearing the door close, you called out to him, and he was by your side in an instant.

“Hey, doll.” He said, pressing kisses to every part of your face.

“Hi, Bucky.” You said.

You let out a loud sigh and paused for a moment before instructing him to sit down on the bed in front of you.

“May I?” He asked tentatively and you knew he must be talking about the wrap. 

You nodded slowly and allowed him to unravel it until it was completely gone. Your eyes were still closed, but the light that had filtered in through your eyelids made you gasp slightly.

You weren’t ready to open your eyes, not yet.  A wave of panic set in and you couldn’t help but feel tears begin to fall.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Bucky said, his fingers wiping away your crying, “This is all extremely overwhelming for you.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for this.” You cried.

Bucky bit his lip and tried his best to imagine what this could possibly feel like, but he could barely comprehend. Then he remembered the first night that he was over.

“Here.” He said, reaching for your hands and placing them on his face, “Feel for now until you want to see.”

You nodded furiously, trying to keep your hands from shaking profusely as your fingers mapped out the face that you knew so well. 

You felt a flesh hand reach up and trace along your cheek. Bucky had closed his eyes and done the same thing as he had before, except this time after about a minute, he added the other hand, the cool metal of his fingers brushing along your lips.

“I love you.” You whispered, a desperate cry from your mouth.

“I love you too.”

You listened to his breathing, the sound that brought you comfort in the night when he slept next to you, and willed yourself to open your eyes.

Your eyes fluttered open and an unpleasing light filtered in, but your main focus was on the face in front of you. His eyelashes were long against his cheeks as he held them closed, his jaw strong, lips plump.

A sharp cry came your mouth, your hands pulling away from his face as his eyes shot open to see you.

The intense colour of his eyes was something that took your breath away, you’d never experienced anything like it before. You decided that no matter what, that shade of blue would always be your favourite.

You began to sob, tight choking racking your chest as the overwhelming nature of seeing the man you love for the first time - and seeing much of anything at all - hit you hard.

Bucky pulled you into an embrace, holding you like his life depended on it. His heart was so full of love and care for you that he didn’t give a damn if your tears were soaking his shoulder.

Bucky held you for what felt like forever until your cries had softened. When you left, Bucky showed you every beautiful thing he could think of; fireworks, blossom trees, sunsets. He loved to see you light up when you saw something new.

He made a pact to show you every beautiful thing that the world could offer, but you assured him that the most beautiful thing you’d ever laid eyes on was him. And he’d shrug it off, but on the nights when you’d stay awake and stare at him, absorbing every little detail, you knew that it was the absolute truth.

Bucky was amazed by you with or without your sight, because either way you loved him, either way you held him on the nights he couldn’t sleep, either way you were the one he’d run to if anything went wrong.

Either way, you were the only one who had ever taken the time to truly see him for who he was, and his heart beat for you and only you.

GREY AREA. (M) | 06

“And just like that, your fate was sealed - because Min Yoongi was absolutely going to destroy you. But hell, if you weren’t going to let him, or bask happily in the flames as he did so.

And sadly, at the time, you didn’t think that your thoughts would become so literal.

cr.

“I think that friendship is as powerful as true romantic love. And I think that friendship can save you, and heal the parts of you that you didn’t know were broken, and change your life.” - Sarah J Maas

 Pairing: Yoongi/Reader
 Word Count: 11,085
 Genre/Warnings: Soulmate AU, Angst

→  Chapter Index

ADDITIONAL WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: suicide is sort of insinuated.




You let out a low sigh at the vibration of your phone going off, this seeming to be the millionth time it had sounded and you were beginning to lose your patience.


You had rolled over from your side to where you laid flatly on your back, the never ending vibrations had ripped you from your slumber, something that not even Taehyung was brave enough to do.

Keep reading

By Royal Decree (Part 2)

Summary: Betrothed to a man that does not like you in the least, you grit your teeth and take on the duties expected of you as a princess. (Royal AU; Prince!Bucky Barnes).

Word Count: 2,377

Warnings: None.

Part 1

A/N: It’s gonna be different from the previous version. I’m winging it as I change what I have previously written. Enjoy, guys!


The music ceased, the notes drifting away and leaving silence between you and the prince. Doing him the favor, you pulled away and turned around, not daring to look back and making your way towards your parents. They wore beaming smiles, smacking you square in the chest with guilt at the fact that all you held for your betrothed was animosity.

“How did it go?” questioned your mother, offering you a glass of champagne. Staring at the glass first before looking at her with a raised brow, you laughed in surprise at her scoff. “You’re getting married, I think you can drink a single glass of champagne.”

“Well, you didn’t raise a fool,” you murmured, pricking the glass from her hand and taking a few consecutive sips. Chugging the liquid would have been preferable, you were at a public event and had noticed more than a few flashes going off as you danced with Prince James. The press had a penchant for being gossip mongers and it was highly likely rumors were already flying through social media regarding you and the prince.

Keep reading

2

The snow drifted down and down, all in ghostly silence, and lay thick and unbroken on the ground. It was a place of whites and blacks and greys. White towers and white snow and white statues, black shadows and black trees, the dark grey sky above. A pure world, Sansa thought. I do not belong here. Yet she stepped out all the same.

9

moodboard || robb stark or sansa stark

The snow drifted down and down, all in ghostly silence, and lay thick and unbroken on the ground. It was a place of whites and blacks and greys. White towers and white snow and white statues, black shadows and black trees, the dark grey sky above. A pure world, Sansa thought. I do not belong here. Yet she stepped out all the same.

requested by @westallensiris

Tears On My Pillow

AO3 Link

Dean is drunk. No, not drunk exactly, just…buzzed. He has to concentrate pretty hard on unlocking the door to the bunker and on not falling headfirst down the staircase. The whole place is silent and still, and it fills Dean with relief. After his conversation with Cas, short as it had been, he’d had to go. Had to get out of there, because the crushing guilt of everything he’s done would have sent him over some sort of edge if he’d stayed.

He told Cas he could stay the night. But come morning, before Sam wakes up, then he has to leave. He secretly hopes Castiel leaves before he wakes up too - or maybe that he’s already left - because he can’t face saying goodbye. Asking Cas to leave was the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, and it still makes his chest clench in pain as he recalls it. The pained, crushed look on Cas’ face as Dean says the words, the words he had to just come out with so bluntly because if he tried to say it in any other way he would have just broken down crying and confessed everything to the ex-angel and begged for his help.

He stumbles down the hall, trying not to knock anything over or wake anyone up. He wants to be alone. Alone with his pain and guilt, alone with the knowledge of what he’s done to his brother, inviting that angel in without his consent; alone with the resignation of asking the best friend he’s ever had to fend for himself in a world he doesn’t belong in and can’t find his feet in. He knows Cas is struggling with his newly human body. His little speech in the bunker earlier on had proved it. He had tried to smile, tried to brush off everything that happened with April, but there was a strange sense of melancholy that had settled around the former angel, one he either couldn’t or wouldn’t shake off.

Dean casts a glance at the closed door to the room he assumes Castiel is in. He isn’t sure, and is still clinging to the hope that it’s only him and Sam in the bunker now, but he sure as hell isn’t going to knock on the door to find out. He couldn’t lie to Cas about why he needed to leave, so he had to stay as far away from him as possible. Awkward questions would be his undoing, and God knows Cas is the master of those.

He turns the doorknob to his own room and stumbles in, not bothering to turn on the light. He kicks off his shoes and strips off his outer shirt and jeans, leaving his boxers and t-shirt on and trying to keep himself upright. Damn, maybe he’s drunker than he thinks. He grips the edge of the dresser and turns to climb under the sheets, achingly desperate to pass out and just not think any more. But once he turns, all thoughts leave his mind and he just stares, open-mouthed, at the sight before him.

Castiel is asleep in his bed.

For half a second, Dean swears his heart stops beating. He casts around the room in rising concern, wondering if he’s stumbled in to Cas’ room in his inebriated state but no - everything that should be there is. His iPod, John’s journal, the wall of weaponry, the half-empty bottle of Jack… he’s in his own room, and Cas is in there too. Jesus fuck, now what is he supposed to do?

He half considers waking Cas up, asking him what the hell he’s doing and kicking him out into his own room. It would be like kicking an injured puppy, and Cas definitely didn’t need any more kicking when he was down. He’s never been this low before, and Dean can’t bring himself to add to it any more than he already has. He could wander across the hallway and sleep in another room - it wasn’t like they were short on space. He wanted to be alone, after all. Didn’t he?

Or, he could do what he does next. His legs move of their own accord and he approaches the bed. Castiel is lying on his side, on Dean’s side of the bed, facing the wall. Dean leans over, just to check Cas is actually asleep, and almost overbalances and falls on top of him, the whiskey in his veins not playing fair. Cats is definitely asleep, but he doesn’t look peaceful. One hand is scrunched in the sheet, the other pillowing his face, and his brow is scrunched up in consternation. His dark hair is a mess, and he’s still wearing the t-shirt he had on earlier. And are those tear tracks on his cheeks…? Fuck. Dean isn’t sure, and he isn’t waking Cas up to ask. The bed is big enough for both of them, he can just slide under the sheets, turn away, and nod off. He and Sam have shared enough beds in the past, it isn’t weird.

Except that he and Cas have never shared a bed. They share a ‘profound bond’, which seems to get stronger as the days go by no matter how hard it’s tested, but sharing a bed is a new one. Dean lifts the corner of the covers and cautiously slides into bed, mindful of moving around too much and waking his friend. Castiel should at least be allowed a good night’s sleep before Dean casts him out into the world, alone.

That thought was painful, and Dean cuts off that line of thinking with precision.

He settles down on his back and firmly closes his eyes, refusing to look at the former angel. He wanted to pass out, to go to sleep and not have to think about Cas leaving. Them sharing a bed would inevitably mean a tough conversation in the morning, unless Dean could fake sleep well enough for his friend to slip out thinking he was unnoticed. He listens to his own breathing, then Cas’, then his own again, and can feel himself starting to drift when a noise, soft and barely audible, cuts through the silence.

“Dean…please…”

And Dean freezes. His whole body goes rigid and he can hear his heart pounding in his ears. That was Cas speaking, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. It was distressed, and Dean wasn’t sure if Cas was crying in his sleep. The body next to him shifts, curling in on itself more, and Dean’s heart aches. Another whine leaves Cas’ lips and Dean can’t take it any more. He shifts onto his side and reaches a hand out towards his friend, his fingers finding his clothed shoulder and squeezing gently in an eerie mimic of the handprint on Dean’s own shoulder. Cas tenses, then relaxes minutely, still asleep but far from at peace. Tiny tremors quake through him, and Dean moves a little closer, his chest almost against the other man’s back. It felt strange to think of Cas as a mere man now, not the angelic force of nature he once was, and Dean swallows through a tight throat. Cas shifts again, snuffling a little in his sleep and it definitely sounds like he’s crying. Dean isn’t sure what heartbreak feels like, but it can’t be very different to this. His eyes burn, and he gives in: he pulls Cas close against him, wraps an arm around his waist and moves his other arm above both their heads to stroke Cas’ hair. It seems to soothe the former angel and he huffs out a deep, shuddering breath, one that Dean unconsciously mimics.

Cas could stay, couldn’t he? He can talk to Ezekiel again in the morning, figure something out. Cas doesn’t have to leave; he can’t let Cas leave. Castiel has put himself in danger for Dean and Sam so many times that throwing him out just can’t be the right thing to do. His drink-fuelled mind crashes through one idea after another, searching for a solution, and even though he fails to settle on one he knows he can’t let Castiel go. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Cas is relaxed against him, warm and soft in his arms, and Dean allows himself to settle back into the pleasant haze of near-dreamland he had been in before Cas’ words drew him out. His eyes close, his mind still wild with thoughts of angels and heaven and trench coats and bright blue eyes…

He wakes up slowly the next morning, on his back with his head pounding and tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. It takes him a moment to realise why he feels so shitty, and why he’s asleep on the wrong side of his bed. Then, with the force of a wrecking ball, it all comes screaming back and his eyes fly open of their own accord. Cas, Cas had spent the night with him in his bed, and Dean really needed to talk to him before he woke up and left. He turns, a hand outstretched to grip the ex-angel’s shoulder and shake him awake, but his hand finds empty air. He blinks, takes in the smoothed down sheets and fluffed up pillow, and the total absence of any of Cas’ meagre things and his throat tightens. Tears burn behind his eyes and he draws in a deep, shaky breath before collapsing back down onto the bed and letting himself cry quietly, his hangover mixed with his raw wave of emotions overwhelming him and breaking down any walls he has left.

Cas is gone.

Ten Years (Part 8)

Summary: AU. When a major account is on the line at work, reader is forced to revisit some old connections at her ten year high school reunion for a chance at success. Will she let the past consume her, or will she see the future in her grasp?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 3,475 (minus the flashback) (yes I need to stop)

Warnings: language, sarcasm, fluff, mentions of past cheating, drinking, potentially anxious situations, confrontation, crying (every chapter has the same warnings because I’m melodramatic)

A/N: Tags are closed. I rewrote this whole damn thing again, and I’m an angsty bag of trash today, so it’s completely reflected here. I kept asking myself out loud, “Why are you like this?”

Part: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13

Originally posted by sebjpeg

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Preference; I’d Understand

Alec Volturi and Paul Lahote preference requested by anon! “Yoo hows my favorite blog?? I’m doin’ alright. Can i get a alec or paul imagine where they’re scared about reader leaving him. Due to alec being a vampire that likes human blood. Or if you do pauls about him being a hothead. Hopefully it makes sense” Hope you like it!

ALEC VOLTURI

In truth, you’d never been wholly comfortable with the meal-plan served in the Italian villa, given your awkward position as would-be appetizer. Despite your position in this so strange, vampiric court, despite your knowledge of the binding law protecting you from intentional harm, your stomach continued to twist and knot in fear. This discomfort, this terror stemmed not from your relations within the Volturi; no, even Aro had been kind, welcoming even, whispering about how overjoyed he was that his darling Alec had found such a promising mate. It was clear that he had a handful of particularly advantageous plans when the sunrise of your immortality broke the horizon, and thus took an affectionate liking to you. The subject of your mortality was a bit of a taboo, especially considering the diet of choice your new companions favoured, but your never felt discriminated for the beating of your heart.

It was never about your pulse, your necessary breath, the blood flowing through your veins, protected only by a thin layer of vulnerable flesh. Politically, you were fine. You were practically one of the guards, your transformation date set for sometime in the summer. It was never about you. It was about the thirty tourists you saw enter the throne room every week, it was their screaming that haunted your dreams, their horror that plunged the knife into your abdomen, churning your insides until you were reduced to nothing. It was your mate’s participation, his willing participation, that struck fear into your still-beating heart. If you had wandered into the villa, expecting a tour of Italian architecture, a history lesson on pillars or portraits, would he have slaughtered you as he slaughtered the others? Would he have spared you a second thought?

You were doubtful.

You stood with your back facing the entrance to your bedchamber, your eyes dissecting the intricate carvings laid into the marble of the walls. Though you had been distanced from the heart of the Volturi’s society, you could hear the echos reverberating down the hall nonetheless. Alec had noticed your discomfort and suggested a change of scenery, though you understood that even his residence in Verona would carry the weight of Volterra’s infractions. You were chewing the edge of your fingernail (a nervous habit you hoped would be kicked, finally, when you were torn from your human life) when your ears picked up on the subtlest wisp of movement, announcing the presence of your silent lover. Soon after, his hands were cooling your elbows, folding over your crossed arms, his honeyed breath polluting the air you inhaled. His lips pressed to your neck, your mind jumping from affection to unease as you noted the placement of his kiss. His voice, so soft, so sweet for so experienced a killer, sang against your ear, his hair brushing against your cheek.

“Darling, you’re troubled,” he observed, his icy fingers ghosting over your hands, lacing his fingers through yours, a tender gesture you were not expecting to be accompanied by the surprising warmth his frozen fingers carried. He’d fed recently, more recently than you cared to dwell on. A stranger’s blood warmed his frigid tissues. You flinched away from his touch, untangling yourself from his fingers, avoiding contact with his violent eyes, his angel’s lips parted in wounded confusion. “Y/n, what’s wrong? Is something the matter?” He extended his hand, and you once more slunk away from his touch. He ducked his head, slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks, exhaling lowly. When he spoke, his voice had changed drastically, harbouring an injury you had yet to notice on his physical form. “Aro warned me this would happen.” You did not speak on the matter, but recalled easily the moment you had departed from Volterra, your hand sliding from Aro’s papery skin, his eyes reading your most recent thoughts, likely painting vivid imagery to accompany your internalized terror. Of course he would mention this to Alec. Your inability to cope directly affected him. “This is about the blood.” His voice did not lilt in inquiry; there was no question, no confusion muddying his understanding. You lifted your face to address him, his eyes a blazing crimson, burning from within with the glow of his most recent meal. Your words clung to the insides of your throat, scratching their way downward, refusing to surface. Alec’s jaw clenched, his gaze lowering to the floor’s mosaic, his brow furrowing the silken plane of his forehead. It was almost inhumane to witness, to cause, distress in so beautiful a creature.

“If I could avoid… the way that I feed, I would do it for you,” he continued, his voice softer, quieter than before, his words dripping with sorrow like an open wound, his tone ringing with a melancholic tenor. “Once you’ve turned, I believe, I hope, that you will understand the difficulty we face. This is not a choice, the way that we feed. Our thirst is not a decision; it’s a compulsion. I have very little control of how I ensure your safety… If I were to refrain, I’m afraid I would be unable to keep myself from causing you harm.” Your breathing grew shallow as he explained to you the honest truths behind his so frequent feasting, his plump lips downturned at the corners, his eyes projecting a most uncommon weakness in one of the most powerful man you had the pleasure of knowing. He pursed his lips before exhaling a broken sigh, his chest heaving unnaturally. “If this is not something that you can live with… I’d understand.” His voice, usually so determined, so confident, now drifted into silence. The only sound available to your feeble ears was your steady pattern of breathing. You turned your face away, unable to hold his gaze any longer, your heart breaking for the angel you’d reduced to ash and cinder before you. After a moment, Alec broke his uncharacteristic silence, his voice illustrating a heart, an organ you knew no longer beat within the chiseled stone of his chest, breaking. If he was capable of producing tears, you had no doubt they would have fallen freely from his scarlet eyes, painting glimmering trails against the alabaster of his complexion. “Will you leave me?” You turned, shocked by his inquiry. How was he able to fathom a universe where you did not see yourself at his side? Had your affections fallen flat? Were you unable to illustrate to him the depth of your love? You crossed to him, your fingers angling his chin upward, forcing him to meet your eye, his irises blooming dangerously beneath a broken brow.

“I could not leave you if remaining by your side ensured the end of my life. To be parted from you would cause me unbearable pain. You are not what I despise, and your thirst… I can’t blame you for that. It’s the executions, Alec, that bother me. You’re herding people to their deaths by the hundreds every year. I can’t help but be bothered by the deaths. I’m only human, for now. If there is another way that you can live, tell me, and we can pursue that path. Together.” His eyes softened, his breath flowing over your face. Though his brow remained furrowed, his lips formed a cautious grin. He glanced at the position of the sun through your veiled window, his eyes returning to your face. He lifted his palm to cradle your cheeks, his face alight with the force of the words he spoke next.

“There is a coven in America, the Cullens. If we leave now, we could reach their home by tomorrow. I never thought I would say this…” His thumbs stroked over your cheekbones, the weight of his decision weighing heavily on his shoulders. “I believe they may be able to help us.”

PAUL LAHOTE

You had been warned of this very scenario from the moment Paul’s realities had been revealed to you, the moment you became involved in the fiery universe that he was so ingrained in. You’d seen the evidence of a destructive temper on Emily’s face, scarring her for life, a warning sign to the other members of Sam’s pack: don’t get too close. You hadn’t had any issues as far as trust went; Paul was relatively calm when you were around, incredibly cautious to the point of over-protectiveness, and as kind and loving as the day you’d met him. He was well-prepared to prevent injuries similar to Emily’s, or worse, and handled his rage better than he had before you stumbled into him. According to his pack, he’d been a bit of a loose canon before imprinting, but your presence acted as a sedative to his usual rowdy, unpredictable nature. You’d been assured that his mannerisms, specifically his impulse to phase, had been quieted after he imprinted, but his actions spoke to combat the promises his brothers made.

Their observations had not been entirely false; Paul was, without doubt, a changed man, but he carried with him a fire that even you could not put out. While he wasn’t explosive, his fuse was relatively short. You hadn’t had the chance to argue, given the amount of time you’d known him, but you’d be witness to his quick temper. You’d never felt threatened in any way other than the typical back-away-if-he-starts-shaking, but that applied to any of the wolves. They all had off-days, but Paul was never someone to be feared, never someone to be wary of. He treated you with the utmost respect and care, but even he couldn’t put a stopper on the floodgates when you’d been approached by a group of men on First Beach. Their salutations had been more insult than greeting, their words slipping like an oil slick from between their unwashed teeth, their faces gleaming with a drunken sweat you could smell radiating from their bodies as you passed them by. Paul, of course, was not about to stand for this ill-treatment. You’d felt the vibrations rolling from his body through the hand that held his, heard his laboured breathing by your ear. You had enough time to extract your hand from his and press a palm to his chest before turning to the trio of vulgar men, warning them to leave before someone (here meaning them, but you couldn’t help but wonder if you also spoke in your own defense) was hurt. One look at Paul was enough to seal your threat in concrete. There was no question about his anger, and his bare torso was promise enough that any retribution would be undeniably painful. They fled, joining a throng of townspeople vacating the beach. Your eyes locked on his, his lips curling over his teeth. You’d attempted to whisper a few calming words before realizing how far gone he truly was. You backed away from his trembling form, every visible muscle tensing on his body as he too backed away from you.

“Y/n,” he snarled, his eyes flitting around as his convulsions intensified, watching the last of the beach’s crowd fade into the night. His unspoken plea was clear: run. You turned your back on him and joined the masses abandoning the darkness of the waters, their voices nearly masking the tear of clothing as Paul exploded from his skin. You turned in time to watch his tail disappear into the tree line. You headed for Emily’s place, hoping to find Sam or Jared holed-up in her kitchen. One of them must be willing to talk Paul down from his heated precipice. You knew they’d all done it before. Your trek was short-lived, and the harmonies reaching from Emily’s open windows carried promises of aid in the form of two, possibly three werewolves. You helped yourself in, your eyes finding Sam’s in the crowd surrounding Emily’s table. His face, lightened by Emily’s company, went dark when he met your gaze. It seemed he already knew. You cleared your throat, running a hand through your hair, watching as Jared, Quil, and Emily focused their attention on you.

“Anyone willing to track my boyfriend for me?” Jared cursed aloud, damning Paul to Hell as he dropped his half-eaten muffin onto his plate, clearly irritated with his friend’s lack of control. Quil offered an apologetic grimace, clapping you on the shoulder as he made his way to the door with Jared nipping at his heels. Sam said nothing outside of asking for Paul’s last-known location, departing with a a final glance at Emily, his fists balled around a pair of jean shorts. Emily’s hands fluttered about her table, sweeping crumbs from the surface, her eyes on your face. She nodded you over, inviting you to sit as she prepared her dinner, promising you that Paul’s episodes never lasted more than half an hour, and that was before you came along. She was almost certain he’d be back sooner. You chatted with her for the next fifteen minutes, your mind preoccupied, replaying the fading image of Paul ducking into the woods on the blank expanse of your eyelids. It wasn’t until Emily offered you a cup of tea that you noticed your hands were trembling. “Maybe I’m a wolf too,” you whispered, your voice failing your attempt at humour, Emily’s arms wrapping around your back as your body shuddered. She, of all people, knew the fear that now pooled in your stomach. Another ten minutes passed before you heard their approach, the sound of footsteps crunching against soil paired with Sam’s low, angry whispers. The three members of Paul’s rescue party had returned, and all three entered without a word, sitting at the table in absolute silence. Emily’s eyes focused on the doorway before finding yours, shooting you a sisterly glance you understood to be cautionary.

“Y/n,” your name was soft on his lips, a gentle tone meant to exhibit his level of calmness. You turned in your seat, abandoning your tea, your eyes falling on his form, propped-up against the open doorway. He gestured for you to join him outside, his hand running through his shorn hair. They did not tremble. You excused yourself and followed him onto Emily’s lawn, watching his shoulders heave with as he sighed, his back gleaming beneath the light of the moon. His hands were swinging at his sides, his muscles tensing and releasing as he paced. When he stopped, you were a good distance away from the house, out of earshot, you assumed, and away from any scrutiny. He turned, slowly, his every movement calculated, the effort behind his actions obvious. He was going out of his way to eliminate any perception you could have of him being a threat to your safety. He kept his distance, addressing you in a whisper from a handful of feet away, his bare feet digging into the earth as he spoke. “Y/n, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. That was… I put you at risk, and I’m so, so sorry.” His eyes lifted to the stars, his head shaking with frustration. “And, you know, I can’t even promise that it won’t happen again. I’m not in control, not like that. This can happen again, and that…” his voice dropped off, his sentence hanging open, fluttering in the breeze. When his eyes returned to yours, his face was broken, his lips pursed to keep them from quivering. “I mean, I’d understand if it’s too much. As much as it kills me, I can understand if you need to go.” He raised his hands, surrendering. “I want you safe, that’s all. I can’t promise you’ll be safe around me. I can’t.” You shook your head, closing the distance between you, continuing even after he mirrored your first few steps, eager to keep you out of harm’s way.

“Paul, if anything, you went out of your way to keep me safe tonight. You warned me that you were losing control, and you backed up, and you gave me time to step back.” He opened his mouth to speak, but you refused to let berate himself further. “You are not a threat to me, and I’m not going anywhere.” He exhaled deeply, relieved, and closed his arms around your back, pulling you to the warmth of his chest.

Mercury in the 12th house - The Hiding Diary

“If you drink much from a bottle marked ‘poison’ it is certain to disagree with you sooner or later.” ― Lewis Carroll.

Nobody imagines like Mercury in the 12th. The mind is a canvas that uses thoughts as water colour brushes to design the illustrious ideal. It rides a vessel of solitary confinement to find messages from mermaids in bottles from a secret sea. Visual imagery, abstract fantasy, and psychic activity blend together and produce natural creativity and receptivity that borders on telepathy. But Mercury can become delirious and disoriented in 12th house water. Mental activity operates in the subconscious and the mind hides like a white rabbit. In social situations, Mercury vanishes to a distance place and takes her thoughts along too. She can seem vague, evasive, uncertain, and away with the pixies. It’s possible to become easily over stimulated, disturbed by noise, and exhausted by the unspoken words she hears through her psychic mind. There can be a mental paralysis and long periods of hibernation along with shyness and intriguing privacy. Dreams can be so graphic, lucid, and stimulating that she wakes up tired. The double theme of the trickster with Mercury and the 12th house can riddle dream with real life and real life with fantasy. 

Mercury can be the mimic magician of imitation in the 12th house. The mind can become the still, silenced, cerulean oceanic reflection and drift into meditation with entrancing ease. It may only take a short period before the individual is mirroring the mental mannerisms around her. She can read the hidden and emotional messages in conversation and focuses on the subjective experience. Listening with a sensitive ear, the individual takes more notice of things left unsaid. She can read the story in the their eyes and their body language like a book. There is a hypnosis acquired when she is counselling, advising, and soothing crisis. Words become cleansed in the tears she refuses to let anybody see her cry. She delivers her supportive message with a Neptune analgesia that tranquillises, rests, and restores her company into a state of serenity. This quality requires routine self-nurturing. The individual must go into hiding with her white rabbits and harvest from the source of solitude. Lack of boundaries drown out her own thoughts with her company’s spoken and unspoken voices. She can become so sensory or physically overloaded that her mind halts to a standstill. She doesn’t know what belongs to her or what direction she was going. Alone time makes it possible to hear and comprehend what she is truly thinking. She can raise authentic knowledge from the subconscious.  

Once a dreamer, always a dreamer resonates with Mercury in the 12th. As a child, the individual lived in two worlds, existing in an imaginative exile that she visits to this day. She may have been unfocused, uninspired, and abstract at school. This may have generated routine reprimand for her dreaming, disengagement, and failure to stay on task that leaves long term doubt in intelligence. She may feel overwhelmed or intimidated by study material and convince herself she isn’t up to the task. She may also be overly shy and unsure to ask for help from academics. The memory can seem unreliable in material terms, but the individual remembers everything. She converts factual memory into dream that returns to her when she needs it. Ideas are exchanged through creative mediums that inspire the spirit, and the mind has a creative way of expressing emotions. The response, immersion and delivery of information is based on the individual’s state of mood. Intuition is delivered as thought that may be spoken through a distinguishable voice. The colour run of imagery and calligraphy produces an imagination mosaic in detailed and divine designs. It can make the individual a brilliant creative writer, poet, story teller, children’s writer, or even an automatic writer. She watches another white rabbit hurry away with her mind, and she searches through every rabbit hole to find it again and again. Where she goes nobody knows, and least of all, herself. 

-C

[art: Nicoletta Ceccoli]