#cardigans with Producer

[sweaterproducer]

pullover cable manufacturer

sweater maker https://sweaterchina.net

Email: kintsweatermaker@gmail.com

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[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Victor’s S2 CH 45-48 Karmas

【李泽言·一拥万梦】

“Embracing Ten Thousand Dreams”

“A very long time ago, I saw a beautiful sandcastle.”

“I don’t know how to make your tears stop.”

—

[kpop-bbg]

[chitin-crusader]

the most devastating thing is when you find a song/album or a piece of art that you really love and think is beautiful & touching and then discover that the artist hates it

[hellenhighwater]

You know what, since I'm thinking about it anyways, let's talk formalwear accessories. Most of these are traditionally menswear but a bit of gender fuckery is good for the soul, and frankly most of these are about making your mass-produced clothing fit and lay properly without having to go to the tailor.

Shirt stays: these go around your thighs to hold your shirt down, so that it stays smooth and tucked in. They're usually elastic, with 1-3 clips, and if you wear skirts frequently this is a GREAT way to make sure your top doesn't ride up. The clips will be visible if you're wearing something tight, so loose pants or skirts are where these do best. There's also an insane version that clips to your socks, but that is for lunatics. If you wanted, you could also use one of these clips to hold up thigh-highs.

These do a great job of smoothing and narrowing the waist area by keeping your shirt from bunching there.

Sleeve garters: usually metal, leather, elastic, or silk. These are usually worn with button-down shirts to adjust where your cuff falls on the wrist or hand. They're properly worn on the upper arm, and you pull the fabric of the sleeve above the garter until you cuff is where you want it. Because this creates a puff of sleeve at the bicep, it also broadens the appearance of the shoulders. It's great if you're working with your hands or if your sleeves are often too long for your preference.

Waistband clip or belt adjustment clip/buttons: Three different ways of tightening the waistband of a pair of pants or a skirt. You're not going to get more than an inch or so tighter without weird bunching, and for most of these you'd want them to be hidden under a shirt or jacket, but they do the job if that's something you're having issues with.

Collar pins: There are so many fun ones out there, both with and without chains. They're not terribly practical, though the slight weight may help keep your collar where you want it. Also consider collar tips, which pin (surprise) to the very tips of your collar points.

Sweater clips/guards: meant to hold your sweater or cardigan mostly closed. Great if your cardigan doesn't button, or if you don't like it to be buttoned all the way.

There's tons of other stuff out there like this--etsy is a great place to find this stuff. A lot of these are old solutions to the very modern problem of mass-maufactured clothes not being as one-size-fits-all as advertised, but they're also a fun way to put a bit of personality into businesswear.

[customknitfactory]

knitwear custom-made

YS knitting sweater production factory https://customknitfactory.com

email: customknitfactory@gmail.com

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[sweatermakers]

sweater custome,knitting production process,sweater oem&odm

YS Sweater Manufacturer https://knittedsweater.net

email: yisweaterfactory@gmail.com

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[customsweaterproducer]

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YS-SWEATER MANUFACTURING https://sweatermanufacturing.com

Email:sweatermanufacturing@gmail.com

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[nctrnm]

cardigan By Taylor Swift From the album folklore Added to NFMX playlist by @nctrnm on November 30, 2023 at 04:26PM Listen on Spotify https://open.spotify.com/track/4R2kfaDFhslZEMJqAFNpdd site: nctrnm.com

[forlix]

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・1.2k / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・chan x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, berry being the perfect girl she is. inspired by these bubble messages and @cosmic-railwayxo's treachery. (love u deni)

𝟬𝟲:𝟯𝟲 — “Where’s my baby, hm?”

This is the question on Chan’s lips the moment he lets go of the bedroom door, closed with agonizing caution as to not wake the figure still curled up under the duvet inside.

It’s early. Early enough so the walls are colored a rich beige by new rays of sunlight, so his footsteps are the only sound reverberating around the hallways when he commences his search. Early enough to evidence how he was only bestowed a few hours of sleep before waking up with a budding headache and leaden eyelids.

But he doesn’t mind the lack of rest, not this time. Not when there’s a wad of love with a freckled snout and floppy ears under the same roof for the first time in too long.

“Berry?” Chan calls, his voice tattered and low, like sandpaper. He rakes his eyes over the spots he remembers to be her favorite. Maybe they’ve changed since he was last home. Maybe everything has changed since he was last home.

The thought causes a familiar pang to go off within him, poignant and powerful, but the quiet scuffle of paws against hardwood takes the edge off the guilt straightaway.

Chan finds the beginnings of a smile on his lips before she even rounds the corner, and when she does, well. His grin might as well split his face down the middle. He’s on his knees in seconds, outstretched hands rediscovering home in the puppy’s silky fur as she clambers onto him with blown pupils and excited pants.

His adoring coos of her name falter into muted laughter, which then fragments into a sob. His vision narrows to his precious girl and then starts to blur. When Berry climbs up to give his cheek a few happy licks, she’s fascinated by its saltiness.

You emerge from the bedroom a little over an hour later. Sleeping is hard enough when you’re jetlagged, and even harder when there’s only mattress where you remember Chan’s warm solidity to be. The fabric of Chan’s hoodie suppresses your vocalization of his name as you ungracefully pull it over your torso, still struggling to rouse your body from sleep.

Your beckon produces no response. You wrap a hand around the nearest door frame and peek your head into the living room, a little more alert now.

“Chan? Baby?”

You feel silly. How many visits has it been for you to still feel this nervous, wandering around Chan’s family home? Yet you undoubtedly are, whether because of your absentee boyfriend or that his whole family is a few walls away. You pad through the silent abode with mounting trepidation and intense care to not make any more sound than necessary.

Then you reach the family room and instantly come to a standstill, hands drifting to your sides, features deliquescing to a soft smile. 

Lying on the nearest couch is your boyfriend, head propped up on top of his elbow, his fluttering lashes and gently oscillating shoulders indicating that he’s asleep. You can’t see his face below his eyes, as he has his nose nuzzled into the Cavalier spaniel resting securely in his arms, snoring tacitly into his sleeve, slumbering as deeply as her human companion.

You’ve been stumbling upon Chan sleeping in unexpected places for the better part of two years now, but you still liquefy every time as if it’s the first. These are the moments, you’ve come to realize, when you can care for him in ways he would never let you while conscious: a lift of his laptop off his thighs, a brush of your lips against his hairline, a cardigan draped lightly over his back. These are the moments when you understand in full how far you’ve come together, for him to trust you with his exhaustion with such transparency, to be so vulnerable as to leave you with memories of him that he’ll never have.

Despite your prolonged experience, it’s hard to describe what exactly you’re feeling in this moment. The mere mention of Berry has always dissipated the shadows that veil his face, has always chased off the burdens that cling to his spine. How do you put it into words, seeing your happiness at his happiest?

It suddenly occurs to you that the window beside them is cracked open. That, and you spotted extra quilts in the top shelf of Chan’s closet last night.

Chan’s eyelids lift when he feels the gentle weight of a blanket fall upon his body; so do the corners of his lips, when the culprit materializes before him. Sitting on the edge of the couch, a hand hovering over his frame, face creased into a flinch.

“Sorry,” you whisper, closing the distance between your fingers and the curve of his neck. The pad of your thumb moves over his cheekbone like a willow branch skimming water. “I didn’t think that would wake you up.”

Both of you up, you mentally amend, seeing as Berry has noticed your presence and is wagging her tail with enough vigor for it to thump against Chan’s chest. He lets her wriggle out of his arms and into yours; you emit a noise of glee and gather her into you.

If only you had seen the expression he wears then, watching your eyes scrunch closed at the frenzied kisses she presses to your face. His first love and his very last.

“Don’t apologize,” he answers. “I’m the one who should be sorry for leaving you in bed, I just…”

His voice trails off, but he knows by the softness in your irises when they meet his that you already know.

You move like clockwork. Chan presses up into the back of the couch, the quilt’s edge lifted in wordless invitation. It is your chest that Berry burrows into this time, the top of her head sliding into the space between your chin and the sofa’s cushion. It is Chan’s chest that you’re folded into, the arms around your waist like the coziest of cabins in a sun-spattered wood. It is the back of your neck that he nuzzles his nose into, but not before he litters gossamer kisses across the expanse of skin, as if printing the notes to a lullaby he knows well.

Everything is warm, so warm, so right, and jetlag starts to feel like a distant trouble.

You open your mouth while teetering on the cusp of a dream.

“Baby?” 

He hums into you, listening.

“Always be happy, okay?”

You don’t notice the solitary tear that traverses the bridge of his nose, lands in the cotton of your hood, and dyes the bunched-up fabric a few shades darker. You don’t notice how his embrace around you tightens marginally, like how one’s eyes can’t help but find their dearest possession when the building’s on fire.

“Okay,” he whispers, and kisses your nape once more. Your and Chan’s eyes close together. Berry licks your chin again, then follows suit.

(Another hour later, Chan’s parents walk into the family room. They decide to go out to breakfast for fear of making too much noise in the kitchen, Chan’s mother blotting away tears as she ducks into shotgun, Chan’s father laughing at her sentimentality while blinking back his own.

Another few hours later, Hannah takes maybe fifty-some photographs of the triad of unmoving heaps occupying their couch. Then she grumbles at Berry for being dead asleep at eleven in the morning: “Those two arrived here from across the world yesterday. What’s your excuse?”)

🔖 (send an ask or reply to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・ @automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten・@newhope8

© 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘅 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support.

[littlemisshyperfixation]

Yoongi Fic Recommendations

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

part 2

Series

In the Margins (a s f) by @bonvoyagenoona ⊹₊⋆ You weren’t sure what he would look like. His writing made you think of a cabin nestled among tall pines, a well-worn cardigan, a scotch neat, and a wistful wisp of smoke seeping into the air from the bowl of an unattended tobacco pipe. What stands before you now is a studio apartment in the city, cigarette butts, coffee stains, and a scowl. There’s definitely been a mistake.

Fix You (f a) by @casuallyimagining ⊹₊⋆ When you take in a stray cat, you have no idea he’s secretly a hybrid trying to escape his past. Can you help him heal?

desolate (a f s) by @angelicyoongie ⊹₊⋆ you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.

One Shots

Set Me Free (a f) by @casuallyimagining ⊹₊⋆ Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to?

back-burner (a f s) by @yoonpobs ⊹₊⋆ sometimes you felt like you were the back-burner of a two-decade-long friendship. how could you ever compete?

Love Language (a s f) by @gukslut ⊹₊⋆ Your boyfriend obviously loves you, but his silence has you questioning if he *wants* you. If you could only get past your damn insecurities maybe you could appreciate what you have.

27 Phone Numbers (f) by @bxebxee ⊹₊⋆ Yoongi has gone through twenty-seven phone numbers over the last ten years, and you haven’t changed yours since high school. 

sweetner (f s) by @taegularities ⊹₊⋆ You used to know how he sounded when you were wrapped around him, but circumstances have pulled you apart and sent you scattering in opposite directions. Feelings shouldn't reappear so easily by simple words, but when you find yourselves in the same place once again, this is exactly what happens.

One Chance (f) by @out-of-jams ⊹₊⋆ A musical genius, a guy with a bad reputation, your assigned partner for your final project. And the last thing you ever would have expected.

Seasons Change (a s) by @taetaesbaebaepsae ⊹₊⋆ Min Yoongi and you, through the seasons, break up and come back together. Nobody said love was easy.

All That Holly, Jolly Sh*t (a f s) by @daechwitatamic ⊹₊⋆ You haven’t seen or heard from Yoongi since he broke your heart five years ago, laying out a logical list of reasons why you were better off breaking up. When a Christmas Eve blizzard traps you together for the night, you have no choice but to examine how few of those reasons are still true. And if they’re not… where does that leave you?

Now We Reign (a s f) by @oddinary4bts ⊹₊⋆ when working on a collab together makes you and Min Yoongi seek comfort with the other, you discover there’s more to life than loneliness. Only, hurdles mark your path in Min Yoongi’s life, and it’s unclear what the outcome will be. Will you be destroyed by him and his world, or will you learn to reign over it, together with him?

take five (a f) by @jiminrings ⊹₊⋆ you're min yoongi's nurse and you have a crush on him, and he gives you five chances to ask him out - he never said anything about accepting though.

The Final - Day 02 (s) by @yoongiofmine ⊹₊⋆ You've been Yoongi's go-to companion for the past few years, well aware that's all you were going to be. Despite your very real, growing feelings for the rapper, you took what you could get every time. Now, you're backstage at day two of the final leg of his tour when another member takes an interest in you. Will it be enough to make Yoongi realize he's got competition?

hello soulmate (f) by @bluemari23 ⊹₊⋆ your first day on the job doesn't turn out the exact way you envisioned

Sugar Rush Ride (s) by @lo1k-diamonds ⊹₊⋆ You produced a song based on your hidden desires for your fellow producer and promised yourself that tonight, things would change. You were done pining after him, but then he arrived at the listening party.

fuck being friends (a f s) by @strawberrynamjoon ⊹₊⋆ as if watching the guy you were hopelessly in love with hook up with another girl each weekend wasn’t enough, he also happened to be your best friend, making things extra complicated. and it only gets worse and worse once he finds you crying in the bathroom at a party one night.

Take One (s f) by @untaemedqueen ⊹₊⋆ There are three things which Yoongi was certain of. One, he was a big star in his field of work. Two, he had a huge cock, one to rival many of the largest names in his industry. Three, he can only find pleasure these days in written word. 

Illicit Favors (f s) by @yoongiofmine ⊹₊⋆ When your editor tells you to re-write the chapters of your book because the sex scenes are weak, suggesting you write them from experience, what do you do when you lack any kind of sexual experiences in general? You go to your friend and ask him for help with it.

Bet On It (s) by @minisugakoobies ⊹₊⋆ What's a little wager between enemies? How about if it's your body on the line?

subscribed (s f) by @aquagustd ⊹₊⋆ you find out that youtube isn’t the only site he uses to satisfy his subscribers. what do you do with that information?

[sweaterproducer]

sweater maker

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[harryslittlefreakk]

kiss it better

summary: when y/n doesn’t show up to work, harry takes her care into his own hands. ceorry x PA y/n

warnings: mentions of illness and vomiting! just plain fluff other than that

wordcount: a little over 2k

a/n: in honour of me being gravely ill 😀 this is probably not very good lol whatevs!!!! i wanted to write and fluff was calling my name

masterlist

Harry glanced at his watch, frowning as he realised something was off. You were always punctual, always greeting him with a smile and a steaming cup of coffee before he even stepped into his office. But there was no sign of you. His desk was a little too tidy in the absence of your swirling handwriting on sticky notes and files. It smelled musky without the sweet coconut of your perfume to counter the dominance of his aftershave.

He set his briefcase down, pulling out his phone to dial your number. He knew he shouldn’t call you, that whatever kept you from work was obviously important, but he needed to know. The phone rang into Harry’s ear a few times before going to voicemail, his brows knitting as he left his office in search of an explanation for your absence.

He didn’t have to wait long to find out, an email pinging through to his phone almost as soon as he opened his mouth to ask where you were.

Without thinking twice, Harry grabbed his coat and headed for the door, his heart thudding with concern, for reasons that he couldn’t quite place. You never missed work. You were always so reliable, pushing yourself even when you shouldn’t, even when Harry told you not to. If he was in the office, you were too, always leaving later than him and getting in earlier.

He stopped by a small deli as he left the office, ringing his mum in the middle of the fresh produce aisle to get her family-favourite soup recipe. Some fresh bread, vegetables, milk and teabags, medicines and ginger shots.

Harry was carried by some sort of unseen force, a desire to be the hero for a day. It wasn’t until he reached your building’s main entrance that he thought to question what he was doing.

He hadn’t even told anyone he was leaving - his briefcase was still sat on his chair, his work untouched. He was skipping on his own company to show up at your door laden with supplies like he was close enough to you to be your caretaker. He shook his head gently, his out-stretched finger reaching for your buzzer before he even made his mind up on whether to stay or go.

He was at your front door a few minutes later, the groceries hanging limply in his hand as he took in your appearance, his features softening as his eyes trailed over your face. Your usually bright skin was dull and pale, your brown eyes outlined by reds and purples, the tip of your nose tinted pink, your lips dry and cracked.

“Harry? What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice thick and hoarse.

You pulled your cardigan tighter around your waist, wishing the building would just collapse around you, a stray meteor would strike you down, anything to not be standing in front of your boss in your skimpy pyjamas while he looked at you like you were a wounded puppy.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

You shrugged, stepping back into your door as Harry moved towards you. “I didn’t want to bother you. It’s just a cold.”

“Bother me?” He shook his head, stepping around you and pulling the door closed behind him. “You’re never a bother, y/n. I was worried.”

Before you could protest, he was already moving into your small kitchen, setting the groceries on the counter. “I bought supplies. Have you had any medicine? You go sit down and I’ll bring you some over. Tea, coffee, water?”

You looked around in a daze, your gaze flitting between the front door and Harry as your brain struggled to catch up. Medicine, supplies, tea, sick, worried. His words were buzzing around your clouded mind, your brows knitted as you stepped towards him.

“Harry, you don’t have to-” you started, but he shot you a pointed look over his shoulder. You knew that face all too well. It was the ‘I’m in charge here, and we both know it’ look that you’d seen him giving to clients and staff countless times over the past year, usually followed by a smirk in your direction.

“Sit. That’s an order,” he said with a hint of a smile. “I’ll take care of everything.”

You sighed but obeyed, shuffling over to the sofa and sinking into the cushions. You knew better than to argue, especially with the way your body was aching after only walking to the door and back.

“I’ve had medicine already,” you told Harry, nodding your head towards the packet on the coffee table. He padded over, reaching for the pills with a satisfied smile.

“Good girl. Where are your mugs?”

Good girl. You pressed the back of your hand to your cheek, knowing instantly that you were burning up and it had nothing to do with the flu.

“Top cupboard on the left,” you muttered, your voice tiny as Harry stared down at you.

You’d found yourself in a dangerous game. It was hard enough to control yourself around Harry in the office with your wits about you, but with him in your home, apparently intent on taking care of you, calling you a good girl, you were almost ready to plan the wedding.

“Oh no.”

A sudden wave of nausea washed over you, your eyes glued to the floor as you scrambled to your feet, rushing past Harry as if he wouldn’t notice if you went fast enough. You barely made it to the toilet before the nausea overwhelmed you, your body heaving.

Within seconds, Harry was behind you. He knelt down, one hand gently pulling your hair back from your face while the other rubbed over your shoulders. “I’ve got you,” he murmured softly.

Now you really wished someone would smite you down. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, both from the force of being sick and the embarrassment of having Harry see you like this. You tried to apologise, but another wave hit, cutting you off.

“You’re okay,” Harry whispered, his hand never stopping its gentle motion on your back.

You slumped back against the wall, exhausted. Harry stood up to wet your flannel, crouching in front of you to dab at your forehead and cheeks, his touch tender and careful, as if you might break.

The ridiculousness of it all almost made you laugh. There he was, in his thousand pound suit, his curls perfectly styled, wiping the sick from your face as you poured like a child in your Barbie pyjamas. And it was only 11am. There was plenty of time for things to get even worse for you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice hoarse and weak. “That was mortifying.”

“Hey, none of that,” Harry said firmly, but his eyes were soft as he studied your face. “You’ve taken care of every one of my needs for a year. You’re sick, I’m not going anywhere.”

He pulled you to your feet, keeping a tight hold of your hand as he guided you back to the sofa, fluffing your cushions before you sank down.

You closed your eyes, your body aching with fatigue and the lingering embarrassment of being so messy and vulnerable in front of your boss.

As if he could read your mind, Harry sat down beside you, his arm wrapping tightly around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “I’ve got you,” he murmured again, his voice ghosting over the top of your head. “Just rest. I’m not leaving.”

You let out a shuddering breath, the warmth of his body against yours easing some of the lingering chills. Slowly, the tension began to drain away, the exhaustion tugging at you. You turned slightly, pressing your face into his chest, the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

He shifted, carefully adjusting his position so you could lie more comfortably against him. His fingers stroked through your hair, chills shooting straight down your spine.

“You’re okay,” Harry whispered, his lips brushing against your hair. “I’m right here.”

When you didn’t respond, Harry stayed still, holding you close, his heart aching at how fragile you suddenly seemed to him. He would keep you safe, he promised to himself.

—

You were still glued to Harry’s side when you woke, although he’d clearly been busy while you were out cold.

His blazer was slung over a chair, his shirt sleeves rolled up as they always were after a few hours of work. His arm was still tight around you, his free hand dancing across the keyboard of his laptop as he stared and muttered at the screen.

Your lips curled into a little smile with the realisation that he’d been up and about while you slept but had still come back to cuddle you. Your hand instinctively flew to your mouth, covering your smirk before Harry noticed just how happy you were to wake up at his side.

His eyes snapped over to you, his eyes crinkling as his mouth stretched into a grin. “Morning, sunshine,” he teased, setting his laptop to the side.

A gasp fell from your lips as you looked beyond him for the first time since you opened your eyes, realising how little light was left. “It’s nearly dark, Harry. How long was I out?”

“A while,” he shrugged. “It’s a good thing. Your body heals while you sleep.”

You pulled away from him to sit up straight, suddenly conscious of the wet patch on his shirt, his tattoos stark against the translucent fabric. “I kept you hostage here for hours while I drooled all over you.”

“I’ll forward you my dry cleaning bill,” he smirked, peering down at the mark. “I don’t mind, really. I had Tony bring my bits over,” Harry shrugged, nodding towards his laptop. “I got quite a lot done. Maybe we should work from home more often.”

“I won’t be making a habit of chucking my guts up in front of you and drooling all over you,” you whispered, your cheeks blazing hot.

“Glad to hear it, sweetheart. How are you feeling? Do you fancy eating?”

You nodded, running a hand through your wild hair. You didn’t even want to imagine what you looked like. It was becoming increasingly more apparent that you’d have to change your name and flee the country the second Harry left you alone.

But as he padded away from you, you listened to him bustling around your kitchen, the familiar clink of plates and cutlery, it felt all too comforting and all too normal.

Harry came back with a tray, a steaming bowl of soup, some toast, and a cup of tea balanced on top, a tea towel thrown over his arm. He set it down carefully on the coffee table, then sat beside you, watching as you guided a spoonful of soup past your lips.

“This is really good,” you murmured, surprised at how the warmth seemed to spread through you, easing the ache in her throat.

“Glad you like it,” he said, looking pleased. “My mums recipe. I’m half convinced your head could fall off and that soup would manage to cure it.”

You managed to eat most of the soup, under Harry’s watchful gaze. When you finished, he cleaned up quickly, then returned with a fresh cup of tea for you both and a blanket.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you said softly as he draped the blanket over you.

He gave you a gentle smile, pulling your legs onto his lap. “I wanted to. You take care of me. Let me take care of you for once.”

The energy shifted in the room, the atmosphere clouded with something unspoken. You rubbed a finger over your lips, your gaze lingering on Harry as he traced patterns over your skin.

He glanced over at his laptop, pushing the screen closed. “Alright, I think we’ve earned a movie,” he said, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “What’s your favourite?”

You shrugged, turning your attention to the tv. “I always watch Harry Potter when I’m sick.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Barbie pyjamas and Harry Potter. Maybe I don’t know everything about you.”

“Simple pleasures,” you shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

As the movie played, the sky gradually darkened, the light from the screen casting soft shadows across the room. You’d pulled your legs from Harry’s lap at some point, sinking into the sofa beside him as you sipped at your tea. He kept his eyes on you as you put the mug back down, then without a word, he gently wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer.

You hesitated for a moment before relaxing against him, your head resting on his shoulder. It felt more natural earlier, when you were still dazed and cloudy and overwhelmed with embarrassment. It still felt right, comforting and familiar, but you were so much more aware of your proximity now. Still, when Harry’s hand began to rub slow, soothing circles on your arm, you melted into him.

You glanced up at him after a minute, catching his profile in the flickering light. His eyes were focused on the screen, but there was a softness to his expression, a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

He must have sensed your gaze, because he looked down at you, his eyes locking with yours. For just a moment, the movie, the room, the soft pounding of your head all faded away.

Harry’s hand stilled on your arm, his fingers lingering as if unsure of what they wanted to do next. Then, slowly, he reached up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your flushed skin.

“Y/n..” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. There was something in his eyes, something vulnerable and almost hesitant, as if he were seeking permission.

Your breath caught, your heart quickening. You pushed your head against his touch, just the slightest movement, your eyes never leaving his.

That was all the encouragement Harry needed. Leaning in slowly, he pressed his lips to yours, the kiss so soft and gentle it was almost like the ghost of a breath against your skin. His hand moved to cradle the back of your head, his touch careful, still so gentle as if he was scared he’d break you.

But his kisses were sweet, unhurried, and full of something you couldn’t put into words. He kissed you like he was savouring every moment, like he thought it might be the only time he’d ever feel your lips against his. You felt your whole body surrender to him, enveloped in the warmth and care of his touch.

“You’re going to get sick,” you whispered when he pulled back, his thumb swiping over your bottom lip.

He leaned in again, pressing another soft kiss to your lips, then one to your temple, his arms tightening around you as you buried your head in his chest. “I think I’ve spent enough time in your company to end up catching your germs anyway. At least I got to do that,” Harry murmured, smoothing a hand over your hair.

You stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the movie forgotten. The world outside didn’t matter, the weight of how shitty you felt didn’t matter, the impending infection you’d passed to Harry didn’t matter. In the quiet shadows of the evening, you snuggled closer, feeling his heart beat steadily against you, and for the first time in a long while, you felt truly content.

“Stay with me?” you murmured, her voice barely audible.

“Of course,” he promised, his lips brushing over your hair.

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[kpop-bbg]

[greygaunt]

How the Slytherin boys would react to you joining them in bed in the middle of the night (ish)

Draco Malfoy

You were upset. Your head was so busy and so loud that you just couldn’t sleep. You couldn’t switch it off and rest; you were pacing around the common room, desperate to tire yourself out. The fire was dying out, leaving the air still and lukewarm. Cold, frustrated and disheartened, you made your way towards the boy’s dormitories, carefully avoiding the uncarpeted bits of the stairs; the cold floor would make you far too alert. You opened Draco’s unlocked door with a loud creak, cringing as the noise echoed around the room. He rolled over in his bed. A candle was lit on his bedside table, and The Great Gatsby was resting in his right hand. “Hey, are you alright?” He asked, sitting up and squinting in the dull darkness, trying to make out your shape. You sighed and shut the door behind you, making your way over to his bed and climbing into it. “You know you have a wand that produces light, Draco.” You muttered as you shimmied under his duvet. “Yes, but I didn’t want to hold it. You didn’t answer my question.” He dogeared his book page and shut it, putting it on the floor before turning to look at you. You avoided his gaze. “I can’t sleep.” You huffed, as if it was the most embarrassing thing ever, climbing into your best friend’s bed because you were an insomniac. He smiled and shook his head. “What’s bothering you?” He asked, pulling his blanket up over the duvet to keep you warm. He blew out the candle. “I don’t know. Everything.” You sighed, rolling over to look at him. You acknowledged his grey eyes, full of sympathy. “Me too.” He said, running a hand through his hair. Lorenzo stirred in the bed next to Draco’s. Draco looked over and reached for the curtains hanging around his bed, pulling them shut to muffle your voices. You pulled them shut your side and buried yourself under the duvet, absorbing Draco’s warmth and his relaxing musky lavender scent. “Your turn. What’s bothering you?” You mumbled, huffing and rubbing your eyes. “Nothing I can control.” He replied, making room for you in the crook of his arm. You sleepily nestled into his arm, revelling in the relief and reassurance of your twin flame’s presence. “I love you, Malfoy.” You muttered before you accepted the wash of sleep that blew over you. You didn’t see, but Draco blushed before he brushed your hair out of your face and made sure the duvet covered you completely.

Mattheo Riddle

You threw a stray sock over at Daphne in hopes of stopping her snoring. Nothing. You rolled your eyes and sighed, standing up and grabbing your cardigan to cover your cold shoulders. Unable to drift off to sleep, you wandered downstairs, seeking refuge from the restless thoughts that plagued your mind. The common room was bathed in a soft, flickering glow from the crackling fire, casting dancing shadows across the room. As you entered the common room, you spotted Mattheo sitting by the fire, his features illuminated by the wavering glow. He looked up as you approached, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before a warm smile took over. "Hey," he greeted softly, patting the spot beside him on the soft leather sofa. “Why are you up?” You shrugged in reply and shook your head, sinking into the seat beside him with a sigh. “I don’t know, my mind's just racing tonight." Mattheo offered you a sympathetic smile, his eyes a cozy chocolate. "I know the feeling. I’ve been crashing here the last few nights. Theo sounds like a bloody chainsaw.” You stifled a chuckle. “Daphne is too.” You rested your head on his shoulder as he relaxed into the sofa, grateful for his company. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, a sensation that only heightened the fluttering in your chest. You couldn't help but steal glances at Mattheo. There was something about the way his eyes sparkled in the light of the flames and the gentle curve of his smile that made your heart skip a beat. "Thank you for being here," you whispered. Mattheo's gaze softened, a tender expression crossing his features. "Anytime," he replied. You found yourself growing drowsy in Mattheo's embrace, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling you into sleep. With your head resting against his chest, you allowed yourself to drift, finally greeting sleep with open arms.

Blaise Zabini

The castle was silent and dark as you slipped out of the common room, the weight of sleeplessness heavy on your shoulders. With each step you took, the cool night air wrapped around you like a refreshing embrace, offering relief to your tired mind. Lost in your own thoughts, you found yourself wandering aimlessly through the corridors until you found yourself in a corner of the courtyard. You sat on a stone bench, lighting a cigarette and inhaling, letting the nicotine rush flood your head. It was then that you heard a soft rustle of movement that drew your attention. Turning around, you saw Blaise standing there, his silhouette backlit by the faint light filtering through the trees above you. There was a knowing look in his eyes. "Couldn't sleep either?" Blaise's deep voice was an immediate relaxer to you, his words carrying a sense of understanding that made your heart ache. You shook your head wordlessly, unable to voice why sleep was alluding you, as it wasn’t clear to you. You held a cigarette out for him as he joined you on the bench. You lit it for him as he smiled at you. The familiar ritual offered a temporary respite from the chaos of your mind. “This is a bad habit we’re getting into.” You mumbled, flicking the cigarette. You watched as Blaise nodded, blowing the smoke out of his nostrils. “If everyone else can, why can’t we?” He replied, crossing his ankles in front of him. For a while, you sat there together in comfortable silence, the only sound the soft fluttering of the leaves above you in the twilight breeze. Eventually, Blaise broke the silence, his voice soft and gentle. "Come on," he said, his hand reaching out to grasp yours. "Let's go back to my room." You put out your cigarette and followed him without hesitation, the warmth of his touch sending a tingling ripple up your arm. As you settled into his bed, the scent of smoke lingering in the air, you found yourself drawn to Blaise in a way you couldn't quite explain. He drew soft circles on your arm as your breathing slowed, a soft rhythm overcoming you. You were sure you loved him, but you didn’t know how to approach that particular roadblock. Instead, you nestled into his sheets, absorbing the comfort his scent brought you.

Lorenzo Berkshire

Tossing and turning in bed, you found sleep to be entirely against you. Deciding to seek respite in the company of your best friend, you quietly made your way to his room. As you sheepishly pushed open the door, you found the room empty apart from Enzo sitting up in bed, the faint light from his phone casting a warm glow across his face. He looked up as you entered, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Well, well, well, what do we have here?" He teased, his soft voice laced with amusement as he gestured for you to join him on the bed. You laughed softly, rolling your eyes at his playful demeanour. "Couldn't sleep," you admitted, settling in beside him. Enzo's eyes twinkled with mischief as he leaned closer, his breath ghosting over your skin. "Lucky for me," he quipped, his tone dripping with innuendo. You couldn't help but laugh at his shameless flirting, a blush creeping into your cheeks. Despite his teasing, there was an undeniable truth in his gaze, a familiarity that made your heart warm. As you got comfortable beside him, the space between you diminished as you filled the room with playful banter and shared laughter. Enzo’s trademark flirty comments continued to fly fast and loose, each one accompanied by a playful wink or a suggestive smirk. There was something about his infectious energy, his unwavering charm, that made even the dullest of nights so much more welcoming. You felt yourself growing drowsy in the relief of Lorenzo's presence, the steady rhythm of his voice lulling you into comfort. With a content sigh, you leaned against him, relishing in the warmth of his embrace. He snuggled into you, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head. You fit together like two puzzle pieces, sharing warmth and comfort as the insomnia slipped away. “I love you.” He whispered before closing his eyes. “I love you too, thank you for being my comfort.” You mumbled, already half asleep, drunk on flirtatious laughter and the soft, spiced smell of his aftershave that filled your nose every time you inhaled.

Theodore Nott

You huffed a sigh of defeat as you rolled over. Not even the dull lapping of the lake against your window could lull you to sleep. There was only one solution: Theodore’s bed. You got up, disgruntled. You didn’t bother with your slippers, just pulling on Theodore’s quidditch jumper he had lent you and you wandered towards his dorm in a mild rage. You opened his door, taking in the sign of him sleeping. He lay on his stomach, his hair all over the place, and his arm propped underneath the pillow. You padded towards the bed, gently lifting his quilt. Theodore stirred in his sleep, a faint frown gracing his features as he shifted against the softness of his pillow. The quiet of the night was interrupted by the gentle rustle of your movement, and he blinked blearily, his senses slowly coming to. His gaze settled on you, standing by his bed, bathed in the faint greenish light that filtered through the lake and through the open curtains. His initial shock of seeing you there so suddenly was quickly replaced by a warm flutter in his chest, a sensation he had grown all too familiar with in your presence. Theodore mumbled your name, his voice was laced with sleep, tinged with a hint of confusion. He watched as you hesitated, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of apprehension and longing. "I couldn't sleep," you confessed softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Theodore's heart skipped a beat at your words, you couldn’t sleep so you came to him? He wanted to reach out, to pull you into his arms and chase away the shadows that haunted your restless dreams. But instead, he simply nodded, wordlessly inviting you to join him in the warmth of his bed. He threw the covers back, allowing you access. You clambered into bed, relief washing over you as you felt comfortable and warm. You mumbled a “Thank you.” as you settled, pulling the curtains closed around the bed. Theodore let out a quiet chuckle as he drew his curtains shut too, not wanting the boys to mock you in the morning. As you relaxed beside him, the distance between you shrinking to nothing, Theodore couldn't help but blush. His arm snaked underneath your neck to support your head, and you groaned. You rolled over and delicately threw your head against his chest, a powerful yawn escaping you. “You’re like a little hippo. Get some sleep, weirdo.” Theo mumbled into your hair as he pressed a kiss to your head. You lightly slapped his chest, letting out an airy laugh. Despite him being your best friend, and only your best friend, your heart still swelled at his gesture.

[fannyrosie]

Me trying to pose elegantly without getting a splinter

For my dad's birthday, we did a local wine tour. I decided to go for a vintage white wine themed look, since Québec mainly produces white wines for cold climate reasons. Also, I have clearly been looking at too many vintage magazines, as even my poses show it.

Outfit rundown Dress: second-hand Mary Magdalene Blouse: old Boutique 1861 Cardigan: old Lord&Taylor Hat: vintage Vogue Bag: second-hand Axes Femme Brooches: vintage Earrings: Design Festa