#heart shape Wooden wall clock

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[yessa-vie]

❝LIKE YOU WANNA BE LOVED❞ — jeong yunho.

PAIRING. jeong yunho x fem!reader

GENDER. strangers to lovers. fast burn. yunho and reader are young adults (but I still consider teenagers since they are not at uni but finishing high school, so technically 17-18 year old) who met during summer. mostly fluff with a tiny bit of angst.

SYNOPSIS. with an encounter on the rock near the pier begins a friendship that, within a month, turns into butterflies in the stomach, sweaty hands, ragged breaths and hearts beating out of control.

WORD COUNT. 5,580 (not counting the end quote).

NOTE. another old story I did as a birthday gift to one of my best friends, also edited to fit Korea and the situation. not my best work, so I may edit this story further on, but for now I'm ok with the changes I did, but again, fast burn is not usually my style, but I hope you enjoy it regardless.

IMPORTANT. this is a work of fiction, it has zero intent on portraing how any of the people quoted here are in real life.

                Jeju Island. That was what awaited him during this month of vacation. He had never been to Jeju Island before and it excited him, so many people he knew went and said it was beautiful. Friends of his always came and went renewed, so to speak. Now it was his turn. A month with the family in a rented beach house. Summer at its peak. A time to think and a time just for him.

                He didn't want a relationship, far from it. He had just ended a relationship, why get involved and not enjoy the single life? A month by the sea, summer behind him, beautiful women passed by the door of his house and let's face it, he attracted attention, from his perfect physique to his innocent childish face – which was anything but innocent.

                “Yunho, we better get going or we’ll be late!” Yunho heard his mother call him and soon closed his window, picked up his bags and left his room heading towards his car to put his things.

                Another positive point, his parents would go in one car and he’d go in another with his younger brother. It wasn't that he didn't get along well with his parents, but he preferred to go alone with his brother, they could listen to whatever music they wanted, and he wouldn't have to worry about getting the car seat dirty and getting looked at.

                After a while everyone was at the beach house, as beautiful as the photo sent. A white wooden staircase at the entrance and the balcony with light wooden floors. The house was simple. Two floors, a mix of wood, cement, and glass. In the coziest interior that the outside view could provide. The room was of a light cream color that it looked white, the entire wooden floor giving it a rustic feel. A fireplace with an LCD on top, surrounded by a pastel “L” shaped sofa and an armchair of the same tone, on the left side a glass door that opened onto a balcony that – thanks to the relative distance between the houses – made it possible to view the beach without having to go in front of the house.

                The kitchen was relatively large, with the counter being made of marble, the cabinets made of wood and glass, and high wooden chairs so that they could reach the small counter in the center of the kitchen. On the left side of the room there is a staircase leading to the second floor. Four bedrooms were there, but to his happiness, at the bottom there was a small staircase that connected to the attic, which, to his happiness, was extremely tidy and a window that covered the entire wall facing straight to the sea. That would be his room for the month.

                He packed his things and when he looked at the clock, he saw that it was already 4pm, he decided to help the family get settled, as he went downstairs he saw his parents in the kitchen talking about something while his mother was cooking.

                "You need help?" Yunho was wearing black shorts, a white tank top and a black cap and flip-flops.

                “Don’t worry about us, enjoy your vacation, do like your brother and go to the beach!”

                Yunho's father said and he watched them a little more and when he received a smile from both of them, he smiled too and went out the door, walking a little along the beach.

                The flip-flops didn't bother him, and the cap helped keep the sun out of his brown eyes for a while. He was already near the navy pier when he decided to sit down. It was already close to sunset, and he had a privileged view from his vantage point.

                The sky was orange and pink, several people were already leaving, others were watching the sunset, he could see that they were either a group of friends or couples in love. He didn't let himself be shaken by it, mainly because he barely had time as a cream Golden Retivier soon appeared at his side barking and wagging his tail.

                “Hey big guy, what are you doing here?”

                Running his hand around the dog’s neck, he noticed a collar, but before he could utter any words, he heard a female voice and then she knelt down next to him running her hand over the dog.

                “Thanks for holding him,” she smiled. Yunho thought it was one of the cutest smiles he had ever seen. He watched her quickly. Straight black hair falling over her shoulders, charming almond-shaped eyes, the cutest smile on her lips, a teal tank top over a bikini and white shorts with flip-flops on her feet. “(y/n),” you commented giving him her hand.

                “Yunho,” he said, shaking your hand giving you a toothless smile that you found extremely cute. Yunho knew how to act around girls, but he especially became an idiot if he found them interesting. “So… He’s yours?”

                “My sister's actually...” You commented laughing and sitting next to Yunho on the rock and looking forward with the Golden lying at your feet. “She got it from an ex-boyfriend of hers,” you let out a nasal laugh. “We all like him despite everything and well, if we were really going to keep this little guy, our parents made us promise that we would go out with him whenever we could, and it was my turn to go out with Thor” you commented pulling Golden's head up receiving licks in the face and laughing, making Yunho laugh too.

                “He's beautiful,” he commented, running his hand over Thors's head, who licked his hand in response.

                “And he liked you,” you commented, laughing, observing him. “I’ve never seen you around here...”

                “Ah, I just moved, for a month,” you looked like you understood and shook your head.

                “I see, that explains a little…”

                "What?"

                “You're here to watch the sunset,” you said with a charming smile, in Yunho's opinion, on your lips.

                "What you mean?" He looked at you without understanding.

                “Let me guess, either you live around here, or you walked too much and got tired sitting on this rock and watching the sunset, now which one is right?” You didn't look at him despite the sparkle in your eyes and the mischievous smile that gave it away.

                “The second one,” he commented blushing slightly.

                "Where are you living?" You asked without expecting anything but making conversation.

                “I don't know any references here, but…” They both laughed as Yunho was remembering what he did during that time he was walking. “Since it took me two hours to get here and I was walking slower than a snail,” you laughed contagiously, making him release a smile that you thought was charming, “I think that an hour or thirty minutes of walking will be enough for me to go back home.” He commented smiling. "And you?"

                “I live that way,” you pointed to Yunho's side, the same path he had passed, making him smiled at that. “I was heading back, considering the sun was already setting when Thor ran like crazy and only stopped when he reached you,” you smiled at the boy who was looking at you enchanted.

                “Well, do you want to accompany me back?” you looked at him without understanding. “I came from there too, we can go back together...” you were silent for a while and Yunho quickly tried to correct himself. “I mean... if it’s okay with you or-”

                “Hey! Don’t worry,” you laughed a little, taking Thor by the collar and going to Yunho’s side. "Let's go?"

                It had been three weeks since Yunho was in Jeju. You met every day. Your family had invited him and his family to dinner or lunch with them and Yunho's family did the same to you. They lived just three houses apart. You had gotten surprisingly close.

                Yunho now knew of two boys who “chased” you at school, he knew they had a crush on you and that's why they were always around and watching you, he could see the reason why they liked you thought, of course he could. You also knew things about Yunho, things he never told his friends or his brother. This was a good thing. But Yunho was afraid of confusing things, after all he was a master at confusing things.

                He already knew every little detail about you without you needing to say anything. He knew what to do and how to do it. He wanted to protect you from everything and everyone, in addition to being stressed because you had taken the final college exams and was waiting for an answer. You wanted to enter Seoul National University, but he knew that it wasn't easy to get into that university, but he knew how much you had studied even if he didn't know the details regarding how you felt emotionally.

                Unconsciously he had memorized your perfume, how you made him feel good and complete, something he hadn't felt since the end of the relationship. Yunho knew your scent, he knew all the smiles – and their meanings – that you gave out to everyone, he knew and loved the faces you made when he pushed you into the sea, or when you simply walked at night and the cold air hit your face.

                He loved hugging you and having you in his arms. He loved being able to call you “little one” whenever you arrived and hug him warmly with that smile like a child on Christmas Day. Yunho loved everything about you and that was his biggest fear and warning alert. He knew that falling in love with a girl like you was easy, but he didn't want to confuse things. He noticed the glances you directed at him, how your smile was different in some moments when you were together, how the concern on your face was evident whenever he and your father were in the same space, the face of relief and joy that your face showed when Yunho was congratulated or simply did well in the areas established by your father.

                He had to admit that he thought your father thought he was your boyfriend, or at the very least, a suitor. Not only him but your mother too. He also noticed the exchange of looks between you and your sister, noticed the hints that your sister threw at the two of you whenever you were together or Yunho would go to your house so you could go out somewhere, but what stressed him out and confused him was yourself.

                Despite all the signs from your family and the statements from the boy's family that said there was something more than a simple friendship, he didn't see any sign coming from you. He didn't want to ruin the friendship that had begun, nor did he want to go back to Gwangju and leave you behind. He had become attached to having you by his side every day.

                At that moment, you were both silent, walking side by side on the beach. The sun would set in less than three minutes and soon night would wash over Jeju. The silence was both pleasant and unwelcome. Yunho thought about ending the silence, but what would he say? ‘I think I'm confusing things and I think I'm starting to like you as more than a friend’? Yeah, that was out of the question.

                “What day are you leaving?” Your eyes didn't meet his.

                Yunho looked at you briefly, trying to memorize the few moments he would still have left with you as this trip would soon be nothing more than another memory. In two weeks he would hit the road back to his city so he wouldn't know when to return.

                “Two weeks,” he lowered his head.

                "Which day?" Yunho stared at you without understanding. “What day exactly are you going?” You asked hugging yourself tighter after a gust of cold wind came. Yunho automatically hugged your side trying to keep you warm. "Thanks..."

                “It’s still not sure, but we have to return before the fifth...” He replied without looking at you and lowered his head. He didn't want to think about leaving you, not after having you so close, bringing him the security and complete feeling he had whenever you were near.

                “Great,” it was the first real smile you’d let out since you started walking aimlessly as the sun began to set. Yunho looked at you without understanding. “You gonna stay for my birthday!” Yunho soon cheered up and a cute smile took his lips, being imitated by you who finally looked at him.

                You were getting closer and closer to the pier and the cold of the tidal wind tormented you each time, making you lean more and more against Yunho, which made him smile every time. When you finally arrived at the rock where you had met, you remained there for a while in silence, enjoying each other's warmth.

                For some reason the wind had died down and consequently the cold from the sea air, but you didn't move away, much less Yunho. Your head was resting on Yunho's chest which was slowly going down and up, he was controlling it, because in reality, his breathing was failing him. Yours was no different. Yunho's hand on your waist as he caressed that area leaving your body burning. Yunho was different from the other boys. You had created a friendship with him that was never possible with many people you had always lived with. You looked up at Yunho, thinking if you should let your intrusive thoughts win.

                “How can someone be so perfect with just under the light of the moon?” That was the thought that kept running through your head. You shouldn't find him beautiful in a silly, passionate way, you couldn't fall in love with him, you didn't want to lose this short-term friendship that made you feel so good. Yunho barely noticed you watching him. Little did he imagine that you were recording every detail of his face and how you held yourself back from touching his face and pulling him to face you so that they could finally kiss.

                Little did you know that in his head, he was holding himself back from doing the same. Yunho had his right hand on your waist, making a small caress while his left hand rested on your leg, his head was going through a thousand and one things, but reality brought him back when he felt his hand being welcomed by another hand, a warm hand with slightly cold fingers. He looked at his own hand, following the arm of the other hand that overlapped his, finding you looking at both of your hands with a shy smile and... Dumbfounded? He had never seen that smile. Something burned in his chest and a thousand things stirred in his stomach as if the carnival had just begun.

                You looked up and the two pairs of almond-shaped, goofy eyes met. Yunho pulled you closer against his body involuntarily and automatically. You lowered your head, feeling your cheeks itching, Yunho undid the clasping of your hands and touched your chin making you look at him. Both of your eyes were different, with a different shine. You hid your face in the hollow of Yunho's neck, making him shiver when he felt the heat of your breath in that place, and he was a little scared when he felt you place a simple and – almost – innocent kiss in that area.

                Yunho tangled his free hand in the hair at the back of your neck, pulling it lightly to find his face. Noses touching, breaths mixing, butterflies celebrating, hearts fluttering, the certainty of one thing and the doubt of another. Little by little the centimeters between your faces ended and a simple and innocent kiss took place between the two.

                The sensation was the most perfect combination of elements and sensations. A fire dominated both your bodies and the feeling of accomplishment took over completely. Neither of you wanted to open your eyes, neither wanted to part your lips, neither wanted to forget the feeling of liking someone and that person reciprocating.

                The lips parted to quickly come together again. This other kiss was different, of longing, of desire, of passion, of love, of fear, of security, of desire, of fulfillment. A perfect dance in synchronization of all the elements that surrounded you made the moment more and more perfect. The tide, the location, the feeling of freedom, the sound of the waves breaking, the feeling of tranquility and lightness. The kiss was delicate, nothing rushed, there was nothing to rush there. That was the consummation of the best feeling in the world for any being, the feeling of correspondence, of friendship, of love.

                The lips parted. Both red and swollen, making both want to resume what you were doing, but when you met each other’s eyes, you stopped. That was the certainty, you liked each other and wanted each other, get closer to each other, the good you did for each other was something more than visible. But doubt soon caught up with you and you lowered your head. Yunho was returning to his city in two weeks, what would be the probability that this continue? What would work? They didn't have any clue and that was a problem.

                “Let’s not think about that now, okay?” Yunho cupped your face and you nodded, soon kissing him again. And the explosive consummation of their feelings hit you again.

                It was the night of the 31st, your birthday. Everyone was there, friends, family and obviously Yunho and his family. You and Yunho didn't let go of each other for more than thirty minutes. Forming an extremely cute couple, the type to have cute and sickening nicknames, you always hugged each other, whispered to each other, etc. As the party ended around midnight and everyone left and, as a birthday present, you asked if Yunho would and could sleep there. Your father didn't like it very much at first, but he couldn't do much, other than accept it, after all he liked and trusted Yunho, he knew he was a good boy and would do everything he could to not disappoint his little girl. And if he did leave, he wanted you both to have the best memories of this summer vacation.

                The night was basically the two of you exchanging caresses, imagining what would happen when Yunho left, what would happen if you decided to continue the relationship and if it was worth trying to maintain it. You quickly fell asleep in Yunho's arms while he sang and watched over your sleep as well as stroking your hair lightly.

                August 4th is the last day of the two of you together. You had decided to spend the night with Yunho, you wanted to enjoy all the time you still had with him. As soon as they hit the road, you would head home. Dinner was peaceful, a few jokes here, laughter there, jokes aside. Soon the first floor of the house was the same as when his family had arrived, apart from most of the suitcases being present near the door.

                You were lying on Yunho's bed watching him pack some things that were missing from his last suitcase. Your eyes were burning, your body hurt, you didn't want to let him go, long distance relationships are rarely successful. You stayed with him practically the entire summer and now you would have to spend the rest of the year away from the boy.

                Yunho put a handful of blouses in his suitcase and turned to pick up his pants, finding your sad gaze directed at him, that was more painful than he ever thought it would be. He left his pants where they were, his suitcase open on the floor, some clothes still on the hanger, nothing mattered to him other than his little girl in bed looking at him sadly. He knew why you were like this; he knew because he was the same way.

                Neither ever thought or believed in a “summer love” or a “holiday affair”, that was something that neither of you thought would ever happen and you also never understood people talking about them with a look of longing or, whatever that they felt, but now you understood.

                You both wanted to be able to relive that month of summer every day, walking on the beach, playing, laughing, playing with Thor, jumping in the sea, chatting, having each other's warmth and imagining that, at that moment, you were infinite, that nothing could stop you, that feeling would be eternal and that no one could ever take that away from both of them.

                You were unique on that vacation, without lies, without anyone but you and you alone. You just wanted to run away and hide, spend the rest of yours lives together. Too dramatic and irresponsible, but that's how you felt. You wanted to be close to each other, Yunho forever wanted to be sitting on the rock near the pier with Thor coming towards him barking and you coming behind, catching up with them and kneeling down, petting the big and clumsy little Golden Retriever.

                You wanted the feeling of the first kiss again, wanted to relive every vain moment without caring about the world falling apart around you. Yunho wiped the tear that insisted on falling from your eyes. Your head fell on the chest of the boy who hugged you back, not just any hug, that hug that says more than any words, that memorable hug, that hug of longing, that hug of affection, love, goodbye.

                "I do not want to leave you."

                Your voice came out weak and shaky between a few tears that were already wet Yunho's shirt.

                “We’re not going to let each other go, remember?” Yunho commented, stroking your hair, placing a simple kiss on the top of your head. “You will always be with me, no matter where. You made me be me, you completed me, you made me feel like the happiest person in the world...” you moved your head away and looked him in the eyes. Watery, red eyes met and Yunho sighed. “We both know that everything could go wrong after I get in the car and hit the road, I just want you to know that I will never forget this summer.”

                Yunho's words of conviction brought in you the feeling of happiness that you hadn't been able to allow yourself to feel since the night before. You both knew it was more likely that you would never see each other again, but that didn't mean you had to forget about each other. His eyes lit up when he noticed the first real smile you allowed yourself to give in the last 24 hours, making Yunho smile too.

                “Yunho…” Your voice was weak. Yunho ran his thumb over your face, making you smile slightly at that, feeling it and trying to memorize everything. “I wanted to repeat everything...”

                “Me too, little one.”

                He placed a kiss on your forehead, your hands quickly cupping Yunho's cheeks, pulling him closer to your face with a slight smile and his eyes were shining, not with sadness, but with happiness.

                “Shall we go to the rock?” Both smiled. Yunho was already getting up, but you stopped him, hands on his forearm. “Finish your bags, I don’t think when we come back, we’ll have time for you to pack them later.”

                A mischievous smile appeared on your lips.

                “(y/n) are you sure?” You approached the boy, looking at him with a toothless smile and that spark that Yunho loved in his eyes.

                “I trust you and I don't think we'll have a second chance anytime soon,” the kiss was quick, but full of desire, desire, trust and longing. You and Yunho finished packing your bags amidst small stolen kisses, some tickles and small moments where you distracted Yunho by the simple fact of existing and being in his room.

                “Shall we go, little one?”

                You nodded, taking his hand and you soon headed to the rock where you met for the first time.

                The path was relatively long, but that didn't stop you from keep on running, laughing, kissing, hugging and screaming – in the moments when Yunho decided to carry you on his lap when you started trying to tickle him again. Soon the beach could be seen and your hands quickly intertwined as you walked along the shore and – occasionally – joined the other beachgoers. You kicked the sand, went close to the sea to feel it on your feet, trying to relive every moment, until at dusk, when almost no one was on the beach, you both sat on the rock facing the dark horizon, the reflection of the moon in the sea, the waves breaking, seeing the stars, the wind from the coast, that for both of you was all you had to remember from that vacation.

                “The best memories are made of small moments, they are made of people, the right people and the wrong people. They are made of a longing, of a desire. Memories are memories that our unconscious keeps and releases from time to time to remind us of who we are, what we have become, what made us change.” Your speech was serious, but your eyes were focused on the ocean in front of you, your hands always intertwined, the constant reminder that Yunho was still there with you. The silence was nice, it wasn't uncomfortable like it probably should have been. You laughed softly and looked at Yunho with a goofy smile and shining eyes. “You are one of my fondest memories, Yunho.”

                “And you mine, (y/n).”

                Yunho grabbed your face with his left hand, bringing you closer and your lips soon met. A simple touch of lips. Just a taste of what was, what is, what would always be.

                You both spent a few more moments enjoying the moment in which it all began, remembering moments that you thought were lost, moments that you would give anything to relive and never forget. Once you left the rock hugging each other, it must have been close to midnight when both arrived at the beach house where Yunho and his family were staying. Then you went up as silently as possible to Yunho's room.

                As soon as he closed the door, began a warm kiss that would remain in their minds for a long time, knowing that when you saw each other again, the desire to repeat it would be extreme. Both walked awkwardly towards the bed, laughing between kisses, feet and legs intertwining from time to time, hands running and exploring each other's bodies. That was when you felt the bed on your knees, pulling Yunho closer to you, not wanting to break the kiss for anything, but Yunho moved away a little, supporting his weight on his arms, looking at you from above, both of you with a smile on your face, eyes shining like two pairs of obsidian, lips swollen and red.

                “Are you sure you want this?” Despite the breathless voice and the desire to have his mouth on every part of your body, he wanted to be sure.

                Before you started getting involved, when neither considered it anything other than friendship, you had already had a similar conversation where you said that you couldn't give yourself to someone the way some girls did, that you both had to have something relevant for you to get along with, for you to give yourself in such a way and it would not be easy for that to happen.

                “Yunho, we may not be officially dating, but our relationship is the relevant relationship I was talking about,” your voice was firm despite your breath being missing a little, a small laugh came out of both of your throats, and you continued with a slight smile and little blushed. “You make me feel good, you give me confidence and I have no problem with that happening between us.”

                “I promise not to hurt you.”

                You knew he could never do that to you, but that sentence brought greater security as Yunho continued to look into your eyes, waiting and looking for some kind of change, of apprehension, of fear, but he didn't find any. A cute smile took over your face along with a slight pink tint on your cheeks. Yunho smiled lightly, kissing your forehead, then your nose, both cheeks, chin, and a simple kiss on your lips and then focusing on your neck, taking the opportunity to wrap one of his arms around your waist when your back arched with the trail of kisses that he left around your neck.

                You both wanted that, there was no better time for it to happen. What would be the possibility of meeting again? Practically zero. You just enjoyed it, you only had one night, one more night together, why not make it more special? Why not make it that memory that will make you let out that goofy smile, bring you that feeling of freedom, that desire to come back, have the feeling of loving and being loved?

                "Will we try?"

                Yunho asked after closing the trunk of the car and observing your reaction as you stared at his arms, exposed thanks to the tank top he was wearing.

                “You had to wear a sleeveless shirt.”

               Your comment was low enough that only you both could hear, an embarrassed smile on your lips as you approached him, running your hand over the nail marks on Yunho's arms and back, making a slight grimace when you noticed how visible they were, making the boy laugh and hold your hand.

                “Why hide it?” He commented laughingly, looking into your eyes, making you blush a little more before he pulled you in for a quick kiss. The lips trailing from your mouth to the base of your ear. “You still haven't answered me...”

                One last kiss under your ear, along with a light squeeze on your waist, caused your mind to go into short circuit, pressing your thighs together, which didn't go unnoticed by Yunho who laughed softly, depositing a last kiss on your cheek. Your hands quickly going to the back of his head, a small caress there and you could swear you heard a grunt come out of the boy. Knowing that you had as much of an effect on Yunho as he had on you was gratifying to say the least.

                The memories of the previous night quickly infiltrated both of your minds.

                “We can, but when will we see each other again?”

                Yunho smiled and kissed you again, he heard the horn of his parents' car and immediately went to the driver's door and opened it, but before entering, his arms were quick around your waist, pulling you between his legs. The kiss was quick and full of feelings. Your hands wrapped around his neck, while his fingers tightened around your waist. It was only when Yunho felt a salty taste amid the kiss that he pulled away, lips red, just like the eyes that stared at him. You had cried. He quickly pulled you closer, feeling your face hide in the crook of his neck, tears wetting part of his shirt, but he didn't care as his hands ran up and down your back.

                “Don't worry,” he said wiping away the few tears and kissed your forehead and got into the car, closing the door, lowering the window and then starting the car. “I’ve already made arrangements with our parents, I’ll come here next vacation, you just need to accept me into your house and we’ll see each other again.” Yunho gave a mischievous smile as you stared at him with your mouth open, not knowing what to say. “I love you little one,” Yunho blew you an air kiss and squealed behind his parents’ car, leaving you unresponsive for a few moments.

                You ran to your room soon after and rolled over in bed with happiness, stifling a scream with your pillow, you quickly ran to your cellphone marking the next long holiday on the calendar, such as the next day of the start of winter vacation, which was supposed to be the time when Yunho would return. Your happiness was greater than anything else, you didn't know whether to scream, jump, run, or whatever to release the happiness you contained within yourself.

                Your fingers quickly sent a simple message to Yunho for when he arrived in Gwangju, to call so you can talk. Even though you didn't know exactly how everything would happen from that moment on, you couldn't care less. Yunho had said he loved you. He would come back to you, you just had to wait for him, which you knew you would do even if he didn't ask.

                Yunho had marked you; you were his, just as he was yours the moment he saw you run after Thor on the beach the day he arrived in Jeju. Deep down, you both knew that it didn't matter if it worked or not, because in the end, what you experienced that summer had been more than remarkable, you belonged to each other even before the night you spent together and that was enough at that moment.

"And what was eternal, will not remain only in the smell; in the speech; in the embrace; in the eyes. It will remain inside, intensely stored in the heart.”

(Victor Hugo Felipe)

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[heartfullofleeches]

Can you please tell us a bit more about the Director of the Night Gallery? You’ve been teasing us for MONTHS and we still know next to nothing about them. I think it’s about time they’re properly introduced, don’t you?

[Another anon: Well now I really want to know about the Director and his games]

The clock chimes seven times.

Not the one on the wall, but the one in the chest and heart of the wooden mannequin standing beside that man. The clock overhead tells a different time than what was told. 7:05. Five minutes after your shift ends.

"You cheated."

The Director clicks his tongue. "Now, Y/n- I only did what I had to. It's rather impolite that the others get a goodbye and I don't. Come now, we really shouldn't waste our time. You know the rules."

You bang on the exit doors. They budge with each slam of your fist, but remain in place no matter what you try. You grit your teeth. "Let. Me. Out. This isn't fair- It isn't right. You played dirty."

"It isn't my fault you became dependent on our friend here to tell you the time. Speaking of which, you are excused, Soleil."

The clock's gears softly tick. Their face hides their emotions, but by the way they avoid your eyes it's easy to tell what they feel.

"I... don't want to leave them."

The Director taps his cane against the hard floor.

"5....."

He doesn't need a second strike as Soleil turns and quickly walks away. He exhales, bright persona resurfacing.

"Now, I personally don't mind your stalling, but I love our little games and would hate for you to lose your freedom so soon. If your little fit is over, we must be going now."

There's no way out of this than to follow him. You learned that lesson long ago. Your shoes squeak down the halls as you drag your feet behind him. Floor 2. Floor 3. The numbers ascend as you climb the stairs. The residents of each floor are absent, having returned back to their paintings or place in the halls as per the rules. Soon enough your at the steps of the final floor, yellow tape blocking access from the outside world. The Director ducks underneath and holds the door open for you, darkness swallowing you as you enter.

There's a table and two chairs in the middle of the floor, an hourglass atop it. You know there is more, but those three objects are all you've ever seen. Three white cards accompany the glass, blank faces upwards as you both take your seats. The Director folds his hands, nodding to the cards. You've played this game with him before, but its always polite to say something first.

"Go ahead. Pick. Like always, you're allowed to choose."

You reach for a card, pausing. "How do I know you won't cheat this time?"

"As tempting as that may be, I imagine its quite hard to cheat at a game like this. Everything depends on your story telling."

You flip over the middle card, the hourglass spinning on its opposite side in tune. An invisible weight pins you to your seat as soon as the first grain falls. Ink sprawls over the milk white page in sporadic and misshapen strokes. The blots form together in a spherical shape in one corner, hovering over a rectangle with four stick lines beneath.

"What do you see?"

"I see... a clock and a chair."

The Director taps the head of his cane. "Is that all?"

You shake your head, giving him what he wants. "... A man sits in the chair. He's waiting for his spouse to come home. He's been waiting all day, and he misses them, but he knows they'll be home soon. He'll greet with them a kiss on the cheek and takes their coat, welcoming them home by settling down by the fire - whole again. And so he waits for his love, starting at the clock to past the time."

The Director sits still. The hourglass doesn't move, but the sands freeze in the middle of its slender frame. "Have I ever told you this is my favorite game? It's easy to win, but I do love your stories. I long for the day when one of them comes true. You are free to go. Best hurry."

The weight on your shoulders is lifted. You bolt from the chair and to the stairway, your first stop once your free anywhere that sells a watch.

[lala1267]

Her Property (Part 2)

Summary: She got what she wanted.

Warnings: smut but not too bad, breaking into a hotel room?

Aria was spralled out on her pink satin queen bed. The headboard was decorated with fairy lights and Polaroids of Elvis performing on the grand stage. The pillows were in shapes of love hearts and flowers. Her hair hugged the satin sheets, and her dress hiked up to her thighs. She lay there just staring at the giant diamond chandler that hung above her. Her brain was clouded with thoughts.

"I want Elvis, I need Elvis."

She whispered to herself as she remained stuck in her lustful haze. She was willing to do anything to have her man, anything. The sound of the television echoed around the pink room. Suddenly, her eyes widened, and her body jolted as she heard,

"Elvis is in New York."

Coming from the television. She instantly sat up. Her bare feet hit the shiny wooden floor before she ran over to the television at lightning speed. She got on her knees in front of it as her bambi eyes watched the screen like a hawk. Her messy hair and her eerie look only added to her insanity.

"Elvis is in New York City for an interview on 5th Street. He is predicted to be there at 4pm. He is said to be staying at a hotel nearby."

That was all that Aria needed to make her insane thoughts a reality. She looked at the rather large clock that hung on her pink painted wall.

"3.10pm"

She said to herself before getting up and rushing to her closet. She threw all of her clothes on the floor and on her bed until she found the perfect outfit. She picked out a short tight dress that hugged her figure perfectly. It was a cherry red, and it was studded with expensive Ruby's that gleamed and twinkled in the light. She had also picked out a pair of black dolly heels and a black ribbon to sit in her blond luscious curls. Her makeup was perfect. She was perfect. She grabbed her handbag and rushed out of the door.

She walked over to 5th Street. The cold breeze hit her pretty face and pushed her golden hair back. She noticed a big crowd of people and a large black limousine.

"Elvis."

She said to herself before making her way to the crowd. Women screamed like animals and men scoffed as their girlfriends worshipped the godly man that graced their presence. Elvis stepped out of the limo and began to sign autographs and take pictures. He had a smile on his face as always. He was dressed in a silk button-up long-sleeved t-shirt that was colourful. He wore some classic black flares, and of course, he wore his signature gold belt. His dark shades covered his dreamy eyes. His black tarr hair shielded the top part of his shades. He towered over the dozens of women and even the men.

Aria finally got to the crowd, but by the time she arrived, Elvis was already inside. Her heart sunk slightly as she looked at the empty limousine. But she wasn't going to give up that easily. She saw a rather large looking security guard standing near the entrance of the building. She quickly walked over to him and tapped him on the shoulder with her acrylic nail that was studded with little diamonds. The man turned around and looked down at her with a frown.

"What?"

He grunted.

"Do you know where the hotel is that Elvis is staying in by any chance?"

She asked politely. She put on her best puppy eyes and stood like a lady. The man looked down at her before pointing to a local hotel that was right across the road. Aria's eyes followed his hand. She nodded before rushing over to the hotel.

She ran across the street as cars honked their horns at her. She stopped in the middle of the street and faced one of the cars.

"Shut up!"

She shouted at the driver before walking off and flicking her hair. She finally got to the hotel. She walked through the entrance as if she owned the place. She saw some of the Memphis Mafia members in the lobby. They were already looking at her up and down. She wasn't surprised. She was a very pretty girl. She swayed her hips and swung her long hair as she walked elegantly over to the vending machine. Her heels were clicking on the marble floor that she graced. She pretended to choose one of the items. It was only a matter of time until she would have the Memphis Mafia at their knees for her.

"3, 2, 1..."

She slowly and quietly counted down.

"Ma'am, don't worry, I can buy ya something from that, I will pay."

Jerry schilling said as he came rushing over to the beauty queen. His blonde hair and smart suit were quite attractive, but Aria was here for Elvis, not Jerry. She turned around to look at the handsome man in his eyes. A sexy grin formed on her pink glossy lips as her long black eyelashes batted.

"Oh, I couldn't accept that."

She said in a high-pitched voice as she wafted her small jeweled out hand. Jerry was quick to respond.

"Oh, no, I can't let a pretty girl like you pay."

He said as he stepped closer to her. Aria smiled slightly as she looked up at him.

"Well in that case, I'll have a cherry cola."

She said as she looked at him with her bambi eyes. Jerry nodded before pressing a few buttons and inserting a few coins into the vending machine. He patiently waited for the cola to come out. He grabbed it and gently handed it over to Aria, who was drowning in her own ego.

"Could I get your name, my lovely?"

"My name is Aria."

She said in a flirtatious tone.

"Well, Aria, that's a pretty name. Tell me what you are doing here."

"I'm just booking a room for the night."

She said.

"I'm also staying here for the night. I don't know if you know already but I work for Elvis and he's staying at this hotel. He's staying in room 222, and I'm in room 234."

He said. He followed his sentence with a flirtatious wink. This was exactly what Aria wanted to hear. Aria smiled and tucked a hair behind her ear before she continued to make small talk with Jerry for what seemed like forever. Once she was finished she walked up to the receptionist and booked her room.

"What room would you like to book ma'am?"

The receptionist lady asked politely.

"Room 221 please, and for one night."

Aria said kindly.

"Ok ma'am."

"Oh, wait. Could you please give me an extra set of keys, I stayed at this hotel before and I lost them, its always better to have a backup."

She said as she fake smiled at the lady. The lady turned around to the key sections. Many different numbers were wrote onto each slot, representing each room.

"Your room 221, so this must be yours?

The receptionist asked.

"Mine is the one that says 222. Another man said that he would have to put my set of keys in the 222 slot since there wasn't any space."

She said as she pointed to the 222 slot. The receptionist furrowed her brows in confusion but she let it slide. Once the receptionist was fully turned around, Aria had to cover her cheeky grin with her hand. The receptionist turned back around and handed her the keys before working again.

"Thankyou ma'am."

She said before walking off with a skip in her step. She walked into the elevator and pressed the button for floor 8. She turned around to look at the mirror that was polished perfectly. She began to rummage through her handbag. She pulled out some lip gloss that was a baby pink. She carefully applied the substance to her plump lips before blowing a kiss to herself. The bell rang to signal that she had reached floor eight. She turned around whilst putting the lip gloss back into her bag. As the doors opened, a large smile cascaded over her face. She walked out of it like a happy child.

She made her way to her room. She fiddled with the keys and turned the handle until it unlocked. She walked in and shut the door behind her. She didn't think twice before throwing her stuff onto the bed and walking straight back out. She checked her watch once she was in the corridor. It's was 4.50pm.

Elvis would be back any minute. She quickly pulled out the silver keys that had the number "222" engraved onto the shiny metal. She sneakily unlocked Elvis's door whilst she looked around suspiciously. She heard a click as she slowly pushed open Elvis's door. She quietly stepped into the dark room. Her doll eyes scanned the room briefly before she shut the door.

She flicked a light switch, and she watched as the luxurious room light up. It was beautiful. A large vanity sat itself next to the bathroom door, and a grand king bed was placed neatly next to a wall. Her heels hit the purple carpet beneath her as she explored the room. She walked up to the nightstand. It seemed that Elvis had already been in here since his wallet and belongings were sitting there. She carefully grabbed the wallet with her small hands and opened it. Her sparkling eyes widened as she saw the hundred dollar bills that were stashed in there like they were nothing. But her eyes were quickly hooded when she saw a small picture in a small pocket within the wallet. Her fingers slid into the pocket and pulled out the thin paper.

It was Elvis doing a funny pose with another woman. The woman had jet black hair, just like Elvis's. She was wearing an expensive looking dress. Her hand was placed on his face. Aria's heart sunk and shattered as she saw the large diamond ring on the woman's finger. It couldn't be. She turned the picture over to reveal Elvis's hand righting. It read,

"My beautiful wife."

Aria seemed to be stuck or even frozen. Her fists bawled, and her cheeks grew red. Her teeth grinded against eachover.

"Wife, my ass."

She said through her teeth to herself as she forcefully shoved the picture back into the wallet. She threw the wallet onto the nightstand before walking over to the vanity. She bent down to look into her reflection. She began to apply some makeup. Her hands were trembling with anger as she did so.

"He is mine, and I'll prove it."

She said as she angrily applied her lip gloss. Once she was done, she stormed over to the king bed and sat herself down. She hid her anger by plastering a mistevious grin on her smug face. Her hands ran through her blonde hair before she brushed out any creases in her sexy dress. She crossed her model legs and waited patiently for Elvis.

Not long after, the door knob moved and jolted until the door pushed open. The light from the hallway shot into the room before Elvis stood tall in the doorway. He closed the door and slipped his shoes off. He placed his stuff onto the small table that stood beside the door. Aria's smile only grew wider. Elvis turned around. He furrowed his brows and froze for a moment. He looked at Aria in horror. Aria played with her hair as she waited for Elvis to speak.

"What are you doing here? How did you even get in here?!"

He said as he raised his voice. His fists clenched as he looked at Aria, who stood up from the bed. She slowly walked over to him.

"Don't worry about that."

She said as she stepped closer to him. Her alluring eyes locked with his icey blues.

"What do you want?"

He asked in a fed up tone as he realised who she was. Aria's brows furrowed, and she stepped closer.

"I just wanted to suprise you. What's wrong with that?"

"You fucking broke into my hotel room goddammit!"

Elvis shouted as his eyes filled with fury. This only feuled Aria's ego. She put her index finger against his plump lips as her other hand rested on his chest.

"Hush baby, no need to get angry."

She whispered seductively as she felt his hot breath on her face. Elvis's chest rose up and down.

"You need to leave."

He said sternly. Aria was only inches away from his handsome face. It was so crazy that she was able to haunt Elvis. She was like his shadow.

"Aww, come on, we can have some fun."

She said as she looked into his dreamy eyes.

"I have a wife."

He said as he broke eyecontact. Aria looked at him with a grin on her face.

"Well, that didn't stop you last time, did it?"

She giggled softly. Elvis rolled his eyes before looking at her.

"I'm not like that anymore, I'm a changed man."

He said.

"Oh shut up, don't bullshit me. You can't be a "changed man" in a month."

Aria looked at him as her eyes hooded. Elvis didn't reply. He just looked to the floor. Aria carresed his cheek with her fingers, she looked up at him.

"I know you want me."

She whispered. No reply.

"I can treat you better then that basic bitch can. I can make you feel real good."

No reply. She was so menacing and alluring, something about her was so magnetic. It was like she had a secret power.

"I'll make ya wish that you put the ring on my finger. Just let me make ya feel -"

Her sentence was suddenly interrupted as Elvis grabbed her head and kissed her aggressively. His hands got trapped on her hair as his tongue danced around hers. Aria's hands trailed his body before he forcefully picked her body up. She wrapped her legs around his waist as her hands latched onto his face as she kissed him. He walked over to the bed and placed her on the satin sheets. She looked up at him as he began to unbutton his trousers. Her menacing grin appeared once again. She bit her lip as she watched him strip. Once he was bare, he hiked Aria's dress up to her waist and pulled her panties off aggressively. He threw them to the floor. He dragged her body towards his and began to thrust into her like it was his last day. He was so aggressive and strong yet so sexy and handsome. Her moans filled the room as her body bounced up and down. Her angelic moans were like music to his ears. Elvis grunted into her ear like an animal. His big hands gripped her waist tightly. He squeezed her to the point where it hurt, but she didn't care. She looked at the sweat that dripped from his head and soaked into the smooth sheets. His hair bounced. Aria wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself. It was like he was letting his built-up rage out on her. Almost as if she was an object. Her lininen curls were now messy and frizzy.He slowed down once he reached his high. Aria's moans got quieter as she passed her orgasm. Elvis layed on top of her body, his chest heaving and his heart beating.

"Oh, I love you."

Aria said breathlessly into his ear. Elvis got up and began to put his trousers back as he looked down at Aria. Her hair was messy, and her cheeks were red.

"You make me do some crazy things."

He said before chuckling. Aria smiled before sitting up. Elvis walked over to his wardrobe and got changed into some boxers. He grabbed a t-shirt of his and threw it at Aria. Aria looked up at him confused.

"Put it on, you're staying here with me."

Elvis said. A large smile invaded Aria's face as she looked at him. Her heart began to beat faster as her blood coursed through her veins. Her dimpled cheeks and ruby lips enhanced as he looked at her. She quickly put the clothes on like it was her mission. Elvis lay down in the bed as he watched her change. Once she finished, she turned around to look at Elvis.

"C'mere honey."

He said with his southern drawl as he looked at her with a grin. She walked over to him, and she was pulled into his arms. She lay on top of him as he cuddled her like a baby. His hands stroked her body as his breath blew on her. This was all she ever wanted, and she got it. The smell of his cologne and the heat of his body. It was pure bliss. She smelt of white roses and felt as fragile and satiny as her hair. She lifted her head to look into his glittering eyes. She smiled as she looked at him. His long eyelashes and thick brows were so angelic and sexy. He bent his head down towards her and placed a candy sweet kiss onto her forehead, making her eyes flutter shut. She had finally got what she wanted.

[skzsauce01]

Morning Glory

Synopsis: Jisung has writer’s block and seeks a cure for it from the village witch.

Warning: none

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: gn!reader x Han Jisung

He normally hates wasting ink and paper, but he would rather toss away crumpled paper balls than stare at the blank sheet in front of him. The view from his writing desk is beautiful—a cerulean sky dappled with clouds, sprawling green fields that come alive with the wind. Red-roofed houses cluster at the bottom of the hill, and smoke wisps from the chimneys as lunch time approaches. As he closes his eyes and breathes in the crisp, country air, he can almost taste the grilled beef being prepared in the kitchens of the village.

Yes, this is good. 

His hands hover over the typewriter keys, poised to craft the story brewing inside him. His fingers twitch in anticipation. They hang in the air for several minutes while Jisung tries to gather his thoughts, which slip through his mind like fish. At the end of it all, he has nothing.

This retreat is not working.

He sinks into his wooden chair, balancing on the back two legs, as he studies the ceiling. Six months is not enough time for a completed manuscript. He has already spent a month wasting away in this little cottage, reassuring himself that inspiration would arrive at his doorstep like deliveries of milk. Five months is too short, but that’s all has left if he still wants to publish with the prestigious Ginseng Press. He supposes three years after his successful debut is too long for his sophomore novel. He’ll be dropped soon if he doesn’t churn out something.

The old clock on the wall ticks. A bird sings an afternoon ditty. The breeze rustles the blank sheet of paper stuck into his typewriter. 

He sighs. He really didn’t want to do it, but he has no choice now.

It’s time to visit the village witch.

Your ivy-shrouded stone house is visible from Jisung’s rental cottage. He has never gone to your home before, only having made polite conversation with you at the market stall in the village. If the villagers hadn’t pointed you out during the first meeting, he would have never guessed you were the witch, though it makes perfect sense. His city’s council of witches are old and experienced; for a small population like this, a single young, green witch is sufficient.

He follows the worn dirt path to your property. The weathered signs posted along the road confirm that yes, your residence is this way. He can’t tell if his heart is beating with excitement or with worry. Although the village has nothing but good things to say about you, how you’ll treat an outsider is unknown. You seem kind enough, if a little curt. A bead of sweat forms on his brow. Hopefully that is because of the high sun.

In the many moments when he is supposed to be writing, he often sees you tending to your garden on the terraced hillside. He scans the large variety of colorful plants, hoping to see your signature brimmed straw hat peeking out above the leaves. You aren’t here now. Wooden stairs and pathways snake around the hill in a haphazard fashion, and he slowly climbs them. How you organized the garden is a mystery to him. The lack of a central stairway from the bottom of the hill to your doorstep is even more baffling. 

Nonetheless, he finds himself standing in front of your cherry red door. A large brass knocker in the shape of bumblebee ornaments the large piece of wood, daring him to announce his presence. After a moment, he does. He hears the click of a lock on the other side, and to his surprise, just the top half of the door swings opens.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

“Hello,” he says after he’s recovered from his initial shock. You don’t look displeased to see him, but you aren’t ecstatic either. “I’m Jisung, the writer who’s been staying here. We’ve met a few times already and—”

A peach-colored cat leaps onto the ledge dividing the two sections of the door, breaking all of the momentum he had. The cat surveys Jisung for a moment before turning her attention to the butterflies by the bushes. You absentmindedly stroke the cat’s tail. “Don’t mind Apricot. What were you saying?”

“I have writer’s block,” he blurts out.

“And how is that my problem?”

His mouth falls open. You aren’t green at all—you’re jaded. You lazily flick away the fly buzzing around and slide your bored eyes back to him, waiting for him to retort a reply. Even Apricot glances at Jisung to see what he’ll do.

He stutters an incoherent mess of words before landing on, “Isn’t this your job?”

“I deal with municipal issues and illnesses. Your lack of creativity, responsibility, or motivation isn’t something I can fix with a spell. Is there perhaps an underlying cause of your writer’s block that I can remedy?” 

You say this all very matter-of-factly, so much so that Jisung feels mortified for visiting you under such trivial circumstances. Barely audible over the heavy silence, he says, “I… I guess not. Thank you for your time.”

However, before he can turn around and speed back to the cottage, you ask, “Would you like to join me for lunch? I made a cheesecake.”

Minutes later, he’s sitting on yet another wooden chair, only this one has a gingham seat cover. You’re busy at the stove, frying something that smells absolutely delicious. The oil in the pan crackles delightfully as you add in more beef, and Jisung’s stomach rumbles. He has been surviving on fried eggs and toast for the past week. When he first came, he made himself actual meals, but his desire to do so dwindled soon after. What was the point of spending all of that time preparing and cooking and cleaning when he could have been writing? Or, trying to write. The thought of having to work on his manuscript makes him feel heavy.

He looks around your house, searching for inspiration. Sage green curtains tied with fraying ribbons. Old books stacked on top of the coffee table. Pressed flowers framed to the faded walls. Everything is so inviting, so warm—it’s exactly what he envisions fairy tale witches would live in. He imagines you sitting cross-legged on the crochet rug at night, checking off items from your agenda with an inky pen as you scratch behind Apricot’s ears. The glow of the tulip-shaped lamp would burnish her fur golden.

As if on cue, Apricot saunters into the kitchen. She blinks at Jisung, almost surprised that he’s still here, and then curls up at his feet. When he reaches down to pet her, she lets him. 

“Ready,” you announce, making him snap back up. You set down a dish of stir-fried udon on his placemat and turn to the antique-looking refrigerator in the corner. “Let me pour you some lemonade.”

The lemonade is light purple. Dark blue ice cubes float at the top, and when the color leaches into the rest of the drink, it dyes the lemonade a darker shade of purple. It’s magical. 

“People always think so,” you remark, a smile building on your lips, “but it’s just the tea. Butterfly pea flower, if you’re interested.”

There’s a subtle earthiness to the flavor, and it’s refreshing when paired with the udon. He tries to mind his manners and eat at a normal pace, but his hunger wins out. The food is divine, and he wonders what you added to make it so phenomenal. He suspects that much like the drink, there is no magic involved. Throughout the meal, you place more beef into his dish, observing him with a placid expression. Do you find him pitiful? A nuisance? 

“Thank you,” he finally says when he’s able to find his voice again. “This is wonderful.”

“Of course.” When you take his dish to the sink along with yours, you gesture for him to sit back down. As you turn on the faucet, you ask, “How are you finding our village? You’ve been here for a month, correct?”

Jisung only means to talk about how much he’s enjoyed his stay thus far—the beautiful scenery, the kind villagers, the tranquility—but his writing progress inevitably comes up. It always does. He lives in words, creates whole people and worlds with them. Years ago, the words used to come easily to him, he confesses. He could look at a mundane object and a story would materialize in minutes. Prose would spill out of him so quickly, he took to carrying a notebook with him at all times lest he forget his thoughts. He could type for hours, building and refining his work without needing to eat or sleep.

“I loved it,” breathes Jisung. “I loved it, but I don’t find myself loving it anymore. I want to write so desperately, but nothing comes to me. And when I do write, the words feel dead.”

“What’s changed?”

“My novel got published, but it may have been the worst thing to happen to me.” He tilts his head back and stares at the wood beams on your ceiling. “So many people loved the novel. I got letters about how happy reading it made them, how excited they are to read what I’m working on next, and I don’t know if I can do it again. What if I just got lucky? Or what if they don’t like the next one? Then I’m a failure.”

“So this pressure is the source of your writer’s block?”

He sighs and wishes he could see his breath rising from his mouth like smoke. “I guess. I suppose you don’t have any spells for that.”

“I don’t.”

“That’s alright.” He lolls his head forward and straightens up so that he can see you again. You have an unreadable expression as usual, which is a skill he assumes you have mastered over your years of working here. “I thought that might be the case.” 

You reach for a knife from the wooden block on the counter. “Cheesecake?”

Your cheesecake is astounding. Even Apricot leaves her spot at Jisung’s feet to look at your marvelous creation. The strawberry sauce on top glistens in the afternoon light, and the filling looks smooth and creamy. When he lets out an involuntary gasp at his first taste, you smile and tell him that the strawberries are from your own garden, fresh from the summer harvest. 

“Would you like more?”

He politely declines. Instead, he carves out small bites with his fork to prolong the experience. You cut a slice for yourself and hum approvingly at the sauce. Another silence follows as the two of you eat. When Jisung glances around your kitchen, his eyes land on the ivy vines dangling from the top of a cabinet, curling around the brass knob like it intends to open the door. The glass panes of the cabinet reveal that there are only plates inside, nothing desirable for a plant. Another ivy plant hanging from the ceiling reaches for the dishes in the drying rack.

“You really like ivy,” he remarks, nodding at the two plants. “I noticed that your house is covered with it, too.”

Amused, you reply, “The ones in my home are pothos plants, and the ‘ivy’ covering my house is morning glory. They haven’t bloomed yet.”

He blushes at his mistake and apologizes, which you wave off. The conversation devolves into silence again, and Jisung finishes his cheesecake shortly after. 

“I can wash,” he says. Not ‘offers’ because you’ll sit him down again. “My thanks for the meal.”

“You’re my guest, there’s no need.”

“Please. It wouldn’t sit right with me.”

You eventually relent and watch him closely as he handles your porcelain plates. He didn’t notice it before, but there’s gilding on the edges and a wreath of flowers decorating the center. The sponge he uses is in the shape of a cat that looks similar to Apricot, and the dish soap is lavender-scented. You are indeed a fairy tale witch come to life.

A loud knock comes from the front door, and you reluctantly leave Jisung to attend to those matters. Apricot follows. As he places the plates onto the metal drying rack, he hears you fiddle with the locks before greeting your patron. It’s the same business-like tone you used with him, but it softens quickly. He peers into the living room, hiding himself behind the wooden archway. A child sits himself on the ledge of the half-opened door, and Apricot joins him up there. Her tail flicks back and forth as she eyes the odd angle of the boy’s arm. When he reaches out to pet her, she tucks herself under his other arm.

“Hold your breath,” you tell him as you wrap a bundle of leaves around the broken arm. 

The vibrant color of the leaves slowly turn milky white, and your fingertips glow with green light. As you recite a spell, your voice as clear as river water, Jisung discovers that he’s holding his breath as well. He has had healing spells performed on him before, yet his heart beats in suspense as the bone shifts itself back into place with a crunch, as your magic binds and strengthens the sections. 

“All better. Be more careful next time.” After the boy hops off the ledge, you turn around and say, “You can come out, Jisung.”

With flushed cheeks, he steps out from the archway. “Sorry. I know I shouldn’t have, but that was truly amazing to see. I should get going anyway. Thank you again for lunch and the chat. It was… really nice.”

“Of course.” You motion Apricot to come down and unlock the bottom half of the door. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to come by. It’s my job.”

“Thanks again.”

He doesn’t want to leave, or rather, he doesn’t want to return to his typewriter. The empty pages inspire nothing but dread. Nonetheless, he has to.

He’ll follow the winding pathway of your hillside garden down to the dusty path that leads away from your fairy tale home. Fish will swim in the rice paddies along the side of the road, and he’ll wish to plunge his hand into the water to catch one. The boy at your door will be in the distance, dragging a long stick in the dirt, whistling to the birds flying above. A rabbit will dash past him, and he’ll chase it while Jisung watches with contentment.

When Jisung walks through his simple white door, he’ll collapse onto his chair and stare at the void in front of him. He’ll think about his time with you and try to carve a story about the young witch of a small village in the countryside. He won’t cry. He’ll do his absolute best not to cry.

Before he can begin his journey back to his cottage, you place a gentle hand on his arm. “You came for a remedy, but will you accept some words of comfort?”

“I’ll take whatever words I can have.”

“The flowers of the morning glory only last for a day, but the vine itself produces countless flowers and keeps producing them. So remember this: you are the vine, not the flower. The morning will come, and you will bloom again.”

[exquisiteserotonin]

Precious Possessions 10: Every Rule

Pairing: Dave York X F! Reader (Original Female Character)

Rating: E is for Explicit - 18+ only 🔞MDNI🔞

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Word count: 7401

Summary: Firefly takes some time for clarity and understanding about everything and everyone, including the role she plays in Dave's life and the one he plays in hers.

Warning: This chapter is incredibly PLOT heavy...and while it absolutely 100% includes Dave, is very focused on reader and her feelings for and about him. Angst. Religious symbolism. Angst. Violence. Angst. PiV sex - wrap it up lovahs, riding, mild restraints, creampie. Angst. Once again please DNI if you are not 18 and over. Also not beta'd, so all errors are my own. Please be kind.

A/N: Thanks to all my babes who encourage me to continue writing even though it can be fucking hard and so personal especially when you put your heart and soul into each character. Also, if you are familiar with the Equalizer trilogy then you will know and understand some of this.

@youandmeand5bucks @pink-whiskey-woman @redhotkitchen @arcanefox207 @legendary-pink-dot @sparklefarts38 @morallyinept @secretelephanttattoo

Taglist: @nerdieforpedro @sheepdogchick3 @casa-boiardi @missladym1981 @untamedheart81 @drewharrisonwriter @guelyury

“Lying on top of you is one thing, but getting close to you is another. I feel close to you, one with you, you’re mine whether it is acknowledged or not.”—Henry Miller 

In the morning you awoke with a start, reaching for an alarm clock that didn’t sound, for a body that wasn’t there. Morning light whispered through the paper-thin curtains, shining on the bare stone wall. Working together with the gentle breeze from outside, a slow sense of calm began to hold you. Seabirds and salt air surrounded you as you opened a window—a wooden shutter with three slats crooked, broken, and beautiful, the only barrier to a rectangle shaped hole in the stone.

Slow and easy, sometimes boring—those were your mornings since you had arrived. You stumbled through the first few days like an infant taking its first steps. No electronics, no real connection to the outside world, relying on shuffling through pages of a pocket-sized English to Italian dictionary to navigate your way through the occasional brief conversations you had with the Altamonte locals as you gathered your bearings.  

The constant overthinking presented an obstacle to overcome. By your eighth day there, the simplicity of life wouldn’t allow it. Neighbors shouted morning greetings through open and bright green shutters as you dressed. A t-shirt, white and crisp, a pair of well-loved jeans, and a black leather jacket finished with a pair of white sneakers. A uniform or sorts, you thought, as you descended the stairs from your apartment. A passerby could have been a mirror image of you just by clothing alone. Was this what people meant by “dressing like a local”?

At a nearby café, your ability to blend in was tested as you found your place in a sea of color neutrality, sitting at the lone empty table near the front door. A youthful and friendly server who looked to be no older than 17 approached you, her raven curls atop her head bounced when she stopped. Not a line tempered her smooth, dark olive skin as she flipped open her notepad with a smile. 

“Cosa desidera Lei?” 

“Un caffe per fevore,” you replied, with the young server nodding in acknowledgement at your order. 

From your purse you grabbed a journal of worn, brown leather. Its corners curled upward from opening and closing it frequentlly The pages lay ruffled and beaten with the gift of constant use. Your fingers also grasped a pen lost in the depths of your bag that met you like an old friend that had come to save you in your time of need. The ink flowed from your pen to the paper as you wrote about the salt air, the distant cawing of seagulls skimming the shore, and the mist of calm that seemed to settle over every corner of the town.

You turned your head to look through the clean windows into the cafe to observe the locals—individuals, couples, families. The images of them gleamed like reflections on a stream. In the window, you imagined Dave next to you—a mirage, a specter haunting and present no matter how hard you tried to push it away. In the back of your head, you asked yourself: Do I really want to? 

“Buongiorno!” a voice rich and deep in time and timber reached out to you. 

A newly familiar face greeted you. His hands, like his voice, showed evidence of assuredness through lines of time and wisdom that were beginning to settle on the backs of his hands. The smile lines on his face were set dark and deep into his face, indisputable evidence of living. 

“Buongiorno, Dottore!” you exclaimed, standing up to take his hands and give him a kiss on each cheek. 

“Everyday, at the same time, I see you here,” the rich melody of his voice and the kind smile he gave you managed to whisk away the chill that coursed through your blood, if only for a moment. 

“Well, the calm is a nice…change,” you mused and paused for a moment, contemplating if you really believed your own words.

Enzo settled down in the chair next to you, the smile beneath his mustache was warm and fatherly.  As he sat next to you, the young server returned carrying two small cups of coffee for both you and Enzo. You observed closely as Aminita, as Enzo lovingly called her, greeted him with greater familiarity than you had combined with an even greater respect. He spoke to her with the kindness of a doting grandfather. Bits and pieces of their melodic words met your ears, the depths of your brain manipulating them until you worked out their meaning in English. 

“So, what have you seen since you have been here?” Enzo inquired as he settled into a chair next to you. 

“Oh, it’s only been a few days, but,” you sighed with a dramatic pause, “just having the ocean right here has been more than enough.” 

Enzo smiled back at you and his eyes glimmered with excitement and wonder. It was the kind of gleam that you had only seen among young children and the old. Pressing his hands together he stood up and waved at you in a gesture for you to finish your coffee. You sipped as quickly as you could, your coffee just on the right side of warm---the cozy kind of warmth that wrapped you in an invisible hug on a cold day. 

“Andiamo,” he urged you as you swallowed the last of it. “Come on, I’ll show you the real Altomonte.” 

“Ok, ok!” you replied, conceding to him. 

Uncomfortably, you chugged the last bit of coffee with an audible hiss before you stood up. You took quick steps over the cobblestone streets as you followed Enzo. His gait was quick and determined for a 60-year-old. A smile curled at the corners of your lips as you watched him skip ahead of you with more excitement than a tour guide being paid to show you the village.  

He walked you through one of the many archways of the town, this one longer than others. The path was just wide enough to allow for the regular flow of movement brought to life by the villagers. What greeted you through the arch was more life than you had expected, not dark and dank as you had presumed. Nestled along the stone walls were market vendors selling homemade wears of rosaries, crucifixes made of wood from olive trees, and hand-embroidered scarves delicately adorned with intricate, swirling designs. You could feel your mouth drop open in awe as you caressed your fingers along a deep blue scarf with two white lilies embroidered at each corner. You were certain that the elderly woman who made this was grossly underestimating the time and talent it took her  to fashion such a unique and beautiful item. A small, rectangular piece of paper lay on top of the scarf and written in ballpoint pen was the price of a mere 50 euros. 

“Beautiful, yes?” Enzo remarked with a smile. 

His eyebrows were raised as he looked back at you. Reaching into your purse you pulled out your beige, leather pocketbook to procure a one hundred euro note. It called to you, that foreign feeling that you so rarely experienced of reaching for something that you just knew you had to have. It had only happened once before.

Your hand trembled slightly as you handed the woman the euro note, a sign of the thoughts of Dave that took hold of you. As the woman took it, the wrinkles around her smoothed from her wide-open eyes. The look of shock overcame her as she examined the note. She waved at you, her tone an odd mixture of gratitude and scolding that could come only from a strong Italian woman. 

“Ti prego di prenderlo,” you insisted in as humble a tone as you could. “E magnifica.” 

You watched in earnest as Enzo spoke to the woman, conceding to her and talking her down until she stared back at you with a satisfied glimmer in her eye while handing you the scarf. Immediately, you tied it loosely around your shoulders while following Enzo’s lead ahead of you. As you sauntered through the cobble stoned streets, Enzo pointed out the fish market. The owner, Angelo, waved at you alongside his wife and son as they proudly arranged fresh fish on piles of ice—waiting for villagers to snatch them up for their evening meal.

The sunlight greeted you on the other end of the archway, where ancient stone walls guarded each side and where Enzo stood at the foot of a steep set of stairs. He turned around to you and gestured towards the steps with excitement surging through his fingertips. 

“Have you gone up to visit the church?“

Your gaze followed Enzo’s upward to a church set into the mountains, that stood proud with its pristine ivory in color that was brighter against the lush, green foliage of the mountainside. A hint of premature frustration crept beneath your skin as you mentally took in the slope of the stairs. You were in good shape, you had to be. Yet your legs automatically ached with a phantom pain that you knew would come from traversing the steep climb to the church. 

Enzo gestured for you to come over, picking up one foot after another over narrow and steep stairs. The waves of the Mediterranean crashed over the walls guarding the village. The fresh salt air traveled with the breeze until it began to dance in your hair. 

“Climb these steps every day and you’ll be young the rest of your life,” he teased, “That is my doctor’s order for you.”

Something between a laugh and a gasp escaped you before he gestured for you to catch up. When you finally did, your eyes settled on the weathered rock as the air caressed your hair and your lungs filled with deep, cooling breath that led to a wistful sigh. 

“Come on, old man!” You took the chance to take a break from your jog to rib your dark-haired companion as he fought to catch his breath standing amidst a steep, but beautiful set of stairs.

You rocked your hips back and forth as you kept your feet bouncing from side-to-side in a stationary jog. He looked up at you, gathering his hands at his hips as sweat began to gather at the center of his charcoal-colored t-shirt, clinging to his lean, but broad-shouldered form. Not one speck of amusement found itself on his face as he glared at you. The steadiness of his stare caused you to slow your jog to merely stepping your feet beneath you. When a smile finally slid over the surface of his pouty lips, his eyes bore into you, heavy, dark, and tempting --- the look of the devil you always wanted to know. 

“I’ll be generous,” you recalled him saying, his words dripping like the sweetest nectar from the most forbidden flower, “and give you a head start.” 

“Just like you to assume I need one,” you challenged as you stood above him, placing your hands on your hips. 

He readied himself a few steps below you, a determined glint in his brown eyes that sent a chill scurrying up and down your spine. Simultaneously, it sent a warm, throbbing sensation at your center as he looked you up and down. He doubled down on his threat, setting himself in a starting stance to race up the stairs. You followed suit, turning your back away from him, trying to keep your focus ahead of you. His very presence behind you already threatened to consume you and though he was steps below you, you swore you could feel the heat of his exhales rippling on the back of your neck.

And with no warning, he spoke, “Run.” 

The memory of you leaping up the stairs traveled through your feet as you slowly made your way up the steep stairs leading to the church. It was silly really—the present was just a moving dichotomy of your memory. 

You didn’t dare look behind you. Doing so would have meant certain defeat. An feeling of nervousness mixed with intrigue filled you as you ran, ran, ran as fast as you could. The sense of him gaining on you heightened through every pore. Your feet pounded on the steps and your arms swung tightly with each quick stride. Quick breaths rattled from your lips as you focused your eyes to the top of the majestic stairs. Cockiness lined your lips into a premature victory smile, when you suddenly felt a pair of hands grab at your hips, forcing you to slow down to a rhythm that matched his body. You felt the heat of his warm fingers wrapped around your elbow as he pulled you into a dark, concealed alley. Breathing even harder than when you were running, Dave pressed you against the wall, his hips rolling against yours. 

His face was so close that you could smell the clean, yet intoxicating sweat that collected upon his skin that had been made golden with Sicilian sun. Each breath he drew was quick and in time with yours. A quick gasp escaped you as you felt his warm hand lower to skim the waist of your leggings, his thick fingers. A shiver circulated through your body as he toyed with the elastic band. 

“When are you going to learn, Firefly?” he growled into your ear, his lips brushing at your neck and earlobe. “I’m always going to catch you.”

***

“Bella! Bella!” 

Enzo’s voice sounded through the cloud of your memory. Without even really being cognizant of it, you had made it to the top of the ancient stairs. The breeze blew stronger at this height, whipping your hair across your face. As you brushed your waves back, your eyes beheld how the wind danced on the rich, blue water and how it made ripples that shimmered with the golden sun. 

“You see, all this makes Altamonte,” he gestured to the church, the statues, and the paintings of the woman. 

You stared at the wonder and pride in his eyes. Somehow, you knew he meant more than just this place. If he could, he would just stretch his arms from here to the ocean. From his voice that trembled with pride and from the gleam that shined in his eyes, you knew. Only an act of God could wash it away. 

“Come in child,” he said, as he gestured you over to the door of the church. 

“Oh no, I’m not religious,” you said as your shoulders shrunk from the discomfort of the words. 

You didn’t need proselytizing. 

“You think she cares?” Enzo asked, already halfway through the threshold of the church. “But you choose.”

Humoring him, you stepped inside. An unexpected shiver oscillated, tapped, and pricked over your body. Goosebumps arose beneath your sweater. The cold that lived in the walls easily could have trapped you, threatening to take away whatever life you felt beneath your skin. Instead, it invigorated you as they made union with the warm colors of the sun that painted the walls of church like they were her own, personal canvas. You peeked through the windows that let that light in. Each had a perfect view of the village. The beauty had you holding your breath as you marveled at how the stone buildings gathered together and overlooked the bluest water you’d ever seen. 

When you finally let yourself breathe again, you found a seat next to Enzo. He knelt in reverence, his eyes closed and hands clasped together. The flicker of several candles set the room aglow, his flame burning brightly among the many. 

You, on the other hand, sat with quiet patience. It was more like a museum to you. Your eyes settled over the statues and paintings that adorned the church. So much adoration for a woman filled in a church that was ostensibly governed by men. 

Maybe they had it wrong, you thought. Maybe the church was meant to be built upon the shoulders of a matriarch who chose her path of raising a leader, instead of a girl who was bestowed the gift of raising a savior. The way these thoughts meandered through your mind was nearly enough to make you laugh. Sometimes you shouldn’t be left to your own thoughts. 

Enzo settled back into pew in the empty space next to you. A deep sigh escaped him as he turned his head to you. His eyes softened in concern. A slight discomfort pressed onto your shoulders as you navigated your response to the kindness. 

“People always come and rest here, some pray, some meditate until they find an answer,” Enzo said, his voice imbued with the notes of great wisdom. “Even me.” 

You nodded in acknowledgement, waiting for him to continue. 

“And you, too, correct?” He asked. 

He didn’t even entertain you with the space or time to answer, not that you had one to give him. Not one that was truthful by any means. Instead, you nodded and waited for whatever wisdom he was ready to give you.  

“I don’t judge,” he stated with a look so deep with thought and an undercurrent of pain that you knew his words were true, “Nothing good comes from it.” 

He sighed again. The weight of whatever memory he was holding was heavy on his shoulders. The tired lines around his eyes seemed to grow in real time, a remnant of the pain that remained.            

“I’m not trying to…ehm…intrude in your personal business,” he paused to find the words, “but are you really here for rest, to find peace, as you say? Or…are you running from something?” 

And there it was: the truth. It had never left. In that moment you could have felt anger, maybe something bordering on hatred for someone cornering the truth out of you. But you didn’t, not this time. You met the doctor’s gaze with the same hesitancy of a child who was hiding something from a parent. Without words, he knew the answer but bore no judgment against you. Instead, he patted you reassuringly on the hand as you took in the warmth of the flickering flames at the altar. 

The sky was a bolder blue against the midday sun as you took your sojourn back to the main square. It seemed impossible that you’d spent as much time in the church as you had. Enzo held onto your arm lightly as you climbed down the steep stairs. A steady stream of pedestrians began to fill the cobblestone streets as you ambled through corridors from which you came. As you walked through the town, the warm and smiling faces of the locals continued to greet you even as Enzo departed from you to continue with his day. 

The remainder of your day moved in an ethereal mixture of fast and slow. From the time you made it back into town you were able to stroll along the seashore, allowing yourself to bathe in the wind as you dug your toes in the sand to buying bread from the local bakery and enjoying it with a cup of tea you watched the sky melt into shades of coral, purple, and then blue as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. 

As a deeper blue settled in the sky, the evening sounds of Altamonte whispered in a different way than the sounds of the morning. The vibrations were buzzed with an energy that was somehow  enlivening but calming at the same time. It should have called you to join everyone. Instead, you let the sounds energize through the open window of your apartment. And you waited as the locals left the restaurants, drunkenly and lovingly alive. The whispers of the night called you as they always had, as they always would. While the citizens of Altamonte were beginning to turn in for the night, you dressed yourself and immersed yourself in the comfort of the late night. 

You approached a restaurant a few blocks from your apartment. A low, heavy feeling struck you in your stomach. Something pulled at your shoulders, tight and aggressive until it pressed and pulled at the skin of your throat. The invisible intensity threatened you with an unsettling and ominous aggression. You tensed into defensive mode as you moved closer and closer to the scene. Loud clatters of silverware and the dragging of chairs against the cobblestone streets set you into a stance that you only ever needed when a job with Dave and the team called for it. 

You dashed with light steps across the cobblestone to gain a better vantage point of the situation. Despite yourself, you heard Dave’s voice in your head as though he was walking you through a training exercise. 

“Your brain is your best asset. Read, know, and breathe the situation and you have the upper hand.” 

You slinked closer as your eyes focused on the situation before you. The threat: two men. His frame was wiry. He couldn’t have been more than 5’9” you surmised. His dark, wavy hair was slicked back, and the ends curled just past his ears. What he lacked in stature he made up for with menace. His stare was wide and manic as he loitered among the tables strutting forward towards a beautiful, young waitress who’d been cleaning the tables outside. The thin man’s counterpart was noticeably taller and more physically imposing. He stood with an unwavering posture, his wide shoulders. He had a closely cropped haircut, and a brow that dipped down into a deep frown that seemed permanently affixed to his face. 

Fear darkened the face of a young woman’s face as the thin man continued to advance on her, trapping her among tables and  into a corner. The owner, her father, stood in the doorway, his feet ready to stomp forward and rescue his daughter. A few strands of her hair fell over her face as she gestured to him to stay inside the restaurant. Two heavy and threatening hands belonging to the burly crony pushed her father back impeding any heroic action he might attempt. The thumping of your heartbeat was fast and loud in the silence of the night, fast enough and loud enough for you to take a deep breath with the hopes of calming it.

“Collateral damage is always messy and always a liability. Blend in: the less remarkable you are, the less of a target you become.”

With Dave’s instruction resonating in your head, you closed in on the restaurant picking up your pace to a light jog. The thin goon continued to advance upon the young woman as her father struggled against the tall man’s hold, keeping their attention from you. It was as though panic traversed through her body the closer you came. The fear that seemed to hide behind her eyes thumped toward you, pumping you with adrenaline and readiness. He held her hostage with a lascivious scowl as he pushed a strand of hair from her face. His hands grabbed the back of her neck, each finger white with violence as he dragged her forward, her skin already red with pain beneath his vice grip. Both men, so arrogant against the struggle of their captives, paid you no attention. 

“Let them underestimate you, then you can always find a way to get the upper hand.” 

All at once a scream from the waitress, yells, and grunts from her father as he struggled, rose in the air as you lunged towards the thin man forcing his grip from the young woman. Adrenaline pumped through every one of your veins as you pulled his thumb backwards and shoved him back with concentrated strength as you simultaneously pulled the gun that he so arrogantly placed in the waistline of his pants. Losing his footing, he stumbled backwards to the ground. You stood protectively in front of the girl as his brutish sidekick attempted to lunge toward you. 

The man raised his eyebrows for a moment and lifted the corner of his lips into a disgusting smirk. He was big and monstrous. You analyzed how each movement was stifled by how grotesquely bulbous his muscles were. Your foot was already hooked to the leg of one of the metal chairs closest to you. In the second he lunged in your directions, you lifted and ejected the chair at his solar plexus. With an additional, forceful stomp of your foot to his chest that knocked him to the ground. 

In the time it had taken you to knock them to the ground, the waitress and her father had escaped inside, and the sound of a police horn approached quickly. You looked down on the two men and brushed a few wayward strands of hair from your face. Adrenaline rushed from your veins to the tips of your fingers. 

The two men stood up, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles of their expensive Italian suits. The thin man glared at you with his hand placed protectively at his chest. It burned still from the pain you inflicted upon him. 

“I think that’s your signal to leave,” you stated with a voice as steadfast as your stance. You kept your hands tightly on his firearm.

With one more snarl, the men disappeared into the night. The motor of their car rumbled off, growing quieter the further they drove into the night. It was silent and more of Dave’s words surrounded you. 

“Never call attention to yourself, but if you have no choice, you need a plan to leave fast.”

The young waitress and her family looked at you, their eyes gleaming with grateful tears. The only thing you felt you could give was a nod. Receiving gratitude, handshakes, and hugs weren’t anything you were prepared or willing to receive. You just weren’t built for it. 

You rushed away using shadows and looking over your shoulder anytime you found yourself in the light. When you arrived back at your apartment, you set your already neatly folded clothes inside your suitcase. It was another trick Dave had taught you. 

Cellphone. Passport. Wallet. Keys. 

With all of them accounted for, it was time to go. You stared at the gun that you had taken from the thin man. You tried to sift through your options of discarding the weapon, when slow, quiet knocks tapped at your door. In an instant you were pressing your back to the wall, sliding along as you made your way towards the door with the thug’s weapon in your hand. It wasn’t in your itinerary to take care of two gangsters on your vacation. 

One, two, three deep breaths.

The knocks became quicker and more urgent. You listened closely for any noises that would alert you to the kind of weapons they had. Just as you reached to open the door you heard a familiar voice through the door.  

“Child, it’s me: the dottore!” 

You wanted to let out a huge sigh of relief, but your heightened vigilance had settled over your neck and shoulders holding you in a position that disallowed it. 

“Enzo,” you finally called out after much deliberation, “are you alone?”

With immediacy, he replied, “Yes!” 

His voice was as steady and confident as a surgeon who was moments away from performing life-saving surgery. You analyzed it, homing in on its lack of fluctuations, listening for any indication that someone else might be standing next to him waiting for you. You drew one more breath and opened the door. Seeing Enzo standing on the other side alone allowed you to let go of the breath you held in your chest. He rushed past you, closing the door behind him. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked through gritted teeth. 

“I heard what happened.” 

“How did you--,” you began to ask. 

“I know everything in this town,” he stated plainly, as he looked you directly in the eyes. “Where is the weapon?” 

You felt your brow immediately furrow at his request. This was the kind of situation Dave urged you not to find yourself in. Trusting people, feeling for people, even giving a little bit of yourself to anyone would be a folly in your line of work. One that would certainly get you killed. 

“No, not happening Enzo,” you insisted as you shook your head. “I cannot get you involved.”

“I think it’s too late for that.” 

You stared back at him, feeling a pressure of disbelief and gratitude as he held his hand towards you with a dish rag that he had pulled from a kitchen drawer. You pressed your lips tightly together and a painful sting of tears began to form at the corners of your eyes. Enzo reached his hand out to you again. 

“Are you a good person or a bad person?” 

An unfamiliar feeling of confusion, guilt, and sadness came over you. One that had you re-evaluating nearly everything. 

You replied to Enzo tearfully, “I don’t know.”

He stepped forward and offered you his fatherly stare. The one you felt was so undeserved. 

“Only a good person would say that.”

It was at that moment, you wondered, maybe, if Dave had it all wrong. 

You looked back at Enzo with a look that you hoped conveyed your gratitude. There were no words that existed that held enough magnitude to describe it. You grabbed your things quickly, looking at him once more before you walked out the door. He gave your arm a reassuring squeeze and you pulled him in for a hug. You held him tight, your hands nearly squeezing to the point where neither of you could breathe, shaking as you let him go. 

“Non dimenticare mai chi sei, cocca,” he said followed by a kiss to your forehead that instantly made you feel like you were truly cared for.

And with one last look, you disappeared into the night. The cool air met you and the sound of ocean waves ascended to your ears. Each smell and sound engulfing you and holding you in what you wished was a long goodbye. The bittersweetness of your tears met the corner of your lips. Yet somehow, each event, each choice, and each movement you made reminded you that all of this was just as it was supposed to be. 

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

The last 24 hours blasted by you like a bullet train. Everything around you moved in a blur while your body somehow moved at a pace slower than everything around you. You moved through each moment with an exhausted automaticity: getting off the plane, getting a taxi , and finding your way home. 

With caution still at its peak, you entered your home. You checked every room and every closet two times until you felt certain that no one had followed you from Italy. You held your phone in your hand staring at the black screen, contemplating if you should even turn it back on. With a long sigh you pushed the buttons at the side of your phone, setting it quickly aside on your nightstand before running to the bathroom to avoid any notification like they were a plague. 

You stepped into your spacious shower, jumping a little as cold water met your skin before gradually raining on your body with much needed warmth. You stepped out of the shower, drying off before wrapping yourself with your towel. You shook your hair with your fingers until your wet waves rested at your shoulder. A notification appeared on your phone connected to your security system.

Filling your lungs with a deep and steady breath you walked towards your kitchen to pour yourself a drink of water. Standing in silence, leaning against your kitchen counter, stood Dave. His eyes stayed only on you with his hands crossed over his chest. He was wearing his best poker face: no anger, no fear, no hate…but for a moment you spotted it: an inkling of relief, a hint of regret, a glint of—? No you wouldn’t let yourself welcome the thought.

You brushed past him, pouring yourself some water. You looked up at him, no words leaving either of your lips. The water was cold, refreshing, and awakening on your lips. As you walked past him back to your you could practically feel him seething. Coming at you like heat waves but bouncing off you as you kept your cool. 

Staring back at him from the end of the hallway just outside your bedroom you called to him.

“Are you coming to bed or not?”

You swore you heard a sigh of exasperation escape him as he crept towards you with his hands on his hips — the way he always did when he was particularly frustrated. Satisfied by his inescapable allure towards you, you turned away from him, confident in the knowledge that he would follow you. 

“I’ve got to hand it to you,” Dave spoke as he perused your hair, your eyes, your face, your skin, “I’m impressed you were able to be off the grid for as long as you did.”

“I don’t think that matters much now,” you declare looking up at him as he moved towards you. “I’m back.”

Dave took his hands to caress your face, his grip against your skin pressed with the perfect amount of firmness. A faint shine of gratitude emanated from his eyes. He would never say it, but you could see it. You could feel it from the touch of his hands and by the warmth emanating from his body—he missed you. 

It was enough. You pulled one hand from your face bringing it down to where your towel wrapped around your body in a tight tuck. With firm guidance you made him pull the towel off your body letting it tumble to the floor. His eyes darkened and he shook his head with a smirk near disbelief as he admired your body. 

“Fuck, you’re fucking beautiful as ever.” He groaned as he grabbed at the front of his pants. 

Nearly a month without him, not one text or phone call…by your own design. Forgetting him wasn’t the answer. Understanding yourself in your entirety always led back to the same conclusion: you were his. 

Not able to wait a moment more, you grabbed him by his dark sweatshirt pulling it over his head and tossing it away. You didn’t think you’d taken a pair of pants off a man faster in your life. His breaths came heavy and fast as you pulled him towards you, admiring his naked body as he did yours. 

And then you kissed him.

After so long without him, the fire that sparked from touching him burned hotter than ever. You pulled his body to yours so tightly that your breasts pressed onto his chest, feeling each desperate breath that rose and fell over him. Somehow your arms found their way around his broad shoulders while he wrapped his around you, his hands grabbing your ass massaging up your back, until his fingers are threading themselves in your hair. 

Your kisses were an exploration of renewal, of remembrance of how each other tasted while also, somehow, feeling brand new. His tongue had never been so needy before. The gruff moans that released from his mouth were so different and more unbidden than you’d remembered. And his cock, his lovely, thick, uncut cock, was so hard against your lower belly. The tip already cried for you with precum. 

With one swift movement you spun around and shoved him to the bed. His eyes widened with devilish excitement as he spread his limbs across the expanse of your bed. His cock stood at attention for you, ready to comply with your every demand. 

You crawled towards him, like a black cat slinking in the dark. The smell of him was so musky, salty, and clean as you lowered your face and then your mouth to the tip of his manhood. Holding the warmth of him again felt like a gift as he throbbed in your hands. The taste was even better as you took in the precum onto your lips and then your tongue, each taste bud lighting you up with desire. 

He moaned, his hand hitting your pillow with a thump as your mouth and tongue continued to worship him. 

“Oh shit, fuck!” He growled as he gripped your sheets. 

Not even close to satisfied you lifted your face from your handiwork, tucking your hair behind your ear. You glided forward over his body, giving him another kiss before straddling him, only letting him feel the outer lips of your wet cunt. He reached his hips upward for you.

“Tsk, ah ah ah,” you crooned, teasing him with another grind of your hips, “not til you beg for it.” 

“Fuck, Firefly, fuck—!” 

You moved your hips again. 

Dave couldn’t stop the moans that came from his beautiful lips. So beautiful, you traced your thumb over them. 

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

You grew wetter with each teasing press of your hips. 

An unintelligible and wanton groan came from him. 

You tugged him by the hair, his eyes staying on yours and his brows angled downward in a combination of anger, frustration, and desire unique to him. 

“Tell me, daddy.”

“Fuck, s—so fucking sexy,” he groaned. “Fuck I’ve missed this, your fucking body, my pussy.”

It was all you needed to hear.

You lifted your hips and braced your hand on his chest before you slowly began to sink over his cock. You bit your lower lip as you felt each thick inch of him enter you until he was so deep you could go no further. Pressing your hands onto his soft belly you began to move. Just that nearly sent him over the edge. 

“Fuck, Firefly, how are you even better than I remember?“ Dave praised, as he gripped your thighs with his hands. 

You rolled your hips slowly against his, adjusting to his thick size in your tight pussy. A shuddering breath left your quivering lips. With each bounce and roll of yourself on his massive member turned your breaths into loud and melodic moans. Not wanting to lose yourself just yet, you pressed your lips tighter together the more rhythmic your pace became. His cock throbbed within you, feeling impossible deeper with each move you made. 

“Ah, my god!” You whined, unable to keep silent as Dave suddenly thrust his hips upwards to match your moves. “God, your cock is so good.”

Dave could only muster a gruff moan before interlacing his fingers between yours. You could feel his breath becoming more erratic with each move of your tight cunt over his cock. His hands began to squeeze yours tighter and tighter as your pussy squeezed him.

With a quick forward movement of your hips, his hard member popped out from inside you. 

“Ahh, fuck!” He moaned as he gritted his teeth in frustration at the loss of your wet center around him. 

You climbed off Dave and reached over to your nightstand, pulling a rope from the drawer. You straddled his waist while fashioning a strong knot around his wrists, tying him to your bed frame. He looked up at you, hazy and hungry to feel his cock sheathed in the tightest walls of your pussy. A smirk unfurled itself on his lips as you rocked yourself along his shaft, anointing him with your nectar. 

“How does it make you feel,” Dave spoke, the sound coming from the deepest part of his throat, “thinking you have some kind of control?” 

The words stopped your gyrations and brought your face an inch from his. You could feel your breath circling his lips, close enough that you could see them quiver. With a strong squeeze of your right hand to his face you licked from his chin to just above his lips before kissing him. Your tongue parted his lips with a firm swipe, leading his tongue into a dance he had no choice but to follow. The way your bed frame rattled as you looked down upon him told you more than any words from him could say. 

“So you’re telling me this,” you squeezed and rubbed his cock with the tightest fist you could make around him, “is the gift I get after being gone for so long?”

You slinked your hips back down, teasing his cock with your opening. With the most sultry intent, you stoked his primal want for you, not settling onto him right away. The way he continued to fight against the taut rope around his wrists sent chills that emanated from your center.  He’d never say it, but you certainly knew everything he fought against confessing.  

Generosity began to sneak over you and you allowed him to fill you as you lowered onto him, inch by throbbing inch. And as though your life, your everything, depended on it, you took him for a ride. Consuming, savoring, and indulging in every delicious, warm, and pulsing inch. You brought him to the edge of ecstasy only to bring him back. Your bodies devolved into a beautiful mess of sweat and desire.

Until it was time. Neither of you could hold back. You clutched the headboard as your hips bounced vigorously on his cock. You looked into his eyes and he into yours until you both came with a hot, violent shaking of your body and an uncontrollable thrust from his hips up to yours. Together you filled the walls of your bedroom with a duet of rapturous groans and sobs of euphoria. 

Still holding him inside you, you graciously removed the bindings from his wrist. With urgency, he circled his hands around your waist until they gave your ass one more squeeze. The warmth of his hands traveled up your back and worked through more of your waves before they pulled you in for a kiss. Simultaneously hot and chilly aftershocks of your orgasm trembled through your body before you lifted yourself off him. 

“Goddamn,” he sighed, his voice cracking as you collapsed on top of him.

Minutes passed like hours as you breathed in time with one another. In the silence, you listened closely to each other's sounds. The unexpected feeling of his hand beginning to your hair startled you. He stopped for a moment surprised by your reaction, slowing the movement of his hand, wrapping his arm around you to caress your shoulder with an embrace. He slowed the racing of your heart with more slow breaths and a barely audible hush from his lips. You could feel the intentional slow rise and fall of his chest against your back, your eyes growing heavy until both of you fell into the arms of a deep sleep. 

Late into the night, you stirred with one arm tucked close to you and the other draped lightly over Dave’s. The hum of your ceiling fan drummed peacefully in your ears as your eyes fluttered lightly looking at his form lying next to you. You almost surrendered yourself back to sleep when a sudden thrashing motion shook you awake. 

You propped yourself up and saw Dave tossing next to you, sweat beading at his forehead. His voice started with quiet mumbles, groans, and bellows that shook with anger and fear. You reached over to him, gently caressing his forehead. 

“Dave…Dave?” You started gently. 

He continued to writhe as his brow furrowed and wrinkled his forehead. 

“S--, no, S-- Sa---,” he called out, still trapped in his nightmare. 

“Dave, it’s me!” You said more firmly wrapping his face with your hands. “I’m here. I’m here.” 

He awoke, startled as he looked at you with wild eyes. He pressed his lips to yours, wetting your mouth with a soft warm touch of his tongue, before turning your back to his chest and wrapping you in his arms. He thread his fingers between yours, kissing your shoulders. He murmured words you were almost certain he was unaware of before drifting back to sleep.  A demand? A request? A plea?

“Stay,” his voice breathed through the silence as he gripped you tighter against his warm body, “just stay.”

[sarahjswift]

Juie - Feysand Oneshot

Hello everyone! I apologize for none of my usual fanfic updates this week. Unfortuantately, a lot of this summer will be like that, including next week. I also thought I'd take a break and do some new stuff, like oneshots - which I have LOVED doing. There's no pressure to make a huge plotline, and I just love writing happy fluff.

As y'all probably know, I'm mostly a Throne of Glass girly, but I though I'd switch it up with some ACOTAR, which I also love. HOWEVER, because Feysand isn't AS MUCH - it still is, just smaller - of my baby as Rowaelin is, this writing isn't the best but - what ya gonna do, you know?

I hope you enjoyed! Tell me if you'd like to be added to the tag list or if you'd like to see more ACOTAR fics! If you have requests for a couple fic, just message me or comment :)

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 1.1k

Enjoy!

--

No matter how hard she tried, Feyre’s painting just looked wrong. 

She cocked her head and chewed on the wooden end of her paintbrush as she surveyed her half-finished painting. It was supposed to be an abstract portrait of her family, the Night Court Inner Circle. It wasn’t to show her family’s true faces and bodies, but a blur of colors and shapes. In Feyre’s original vision, which had come to her in the middle of breakfast, the painting would leave viewers a bit spooked, or intrigued. She’d hoped to convey her loved ones' traumas through the paint, but it wasn’t working. Although the painting was beautiful, it just felt…flat.

Heaving a sigh, Feyre checked the clock on the wall of her studio. It was time to meet her mate and son for dinner. She packed up her supplies and waved at Ressina as she stepped out into the warm Velaris air. It was early summer, and the Square was filled with laughing people shopping. The sight filled her chest with buoyant joy. We did this, she thought to herself as she made her way to her home. 

She stepped through her threshold, shutting the heavy door behind her. “I’m home!” she called throughout the house. She smiled as she heard giggling around the corner, and she turned to see her five year old son running down the stairs to her. Nyx squeezed her tight, and Feyre picked him up and twirled him around, taking a deep breath of his perfect scent, made up of baby soap and stars. 

“Where’s your dad, baby?” she asked him, setting him down. Nyx’s black brows scrunched together adorably as he wracked his tiny mind. 

“Uhmmmmm…..,” he frowned. “Daddy said that…I think that he said he would meet us at the rest-y-raunt.” Nyx was still learning pronunciations for big words, which was so precious it made her heart burst.

“Oh - is that so?” Feyre raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. Well! Are you dressed for dinner, baby?” 

Nyx nodded, gesturing proudly to his boxers and huge gray shirt that smelled strongly of Cassian - the little boy worshiped his uncle and wanted to be him when he grew up. Although it certainly wasn't a proper dress code for the fancy new restaurant they were going to, Feyre had no problem with her son’s attire. She herself was wearing a white wool sweater and black leggings, her hair pulled into her usual braid.

The mother and son traveled through the streets of Velaris, hand in hand. People smiled and waved to them, forever adoring of the two who saved their world and the loveable child born from the union. Finally, they reached the huge building that they would dine at - Juie. Nyx was exhausted from the fifteen minute walk and his hunger, and was wining and dragging his feet. Feyre pulled him into the restaurant, searching for her husband. And there he was. 

Rhysand, standing with his hands in his pockets in the corner of the restaurant. He was dressed in his usual black attire, his hair effortlessly styled. As if sensing her eyes on him, he turned around to face them, and smiled. It lit up his whole beautiful face. 

Gods, would there ever be a day when his face didn’t make her heart tighten?

No, there won’t be, my Feyre darling. Rhysand’s voice slid into her mind, making her smile and instantly let him through her shields. 

Prick, she shot down the bond, and advanced toward him. He sped to them too fast to be casual, and she bit back a grin as he reached them. 

“Hello, family!” he cried happily, picking up his son and planting a kiss on Feyre’s lips. His hand grazed her arm before pulling it back to twirl a squealing Nyx around. 

___

Soon, they had been seated and were digging into a steak meal. Every taste exploded with flavor, and Feyre made a mental note to take her sisters and Mor out here one day. 

“How was your day, darling?” Rhys asked her, Nyx busy eating and coloring. He looked at her over their son’s head, smiling.

“It was alright,” Feyre shrugged, taking a sip of the iced tea she'd ordered(it was especially refreshing). “Do you remember that painting I told you about?”

“The Inner Circle one? It was abstract, right?”

“Yes, exactly. Only I can’t get it right. Something’s off. It doesn’t have the life I want it to have.” 

“Oh.” Rhys frowned and looked down at his plate, clearly wracking his brain for an artsy response. It made Feyre’s heart warm - her husband didn’t know a lot about painting, but he tried for her. “Maybe it’s the setting?” 

“Actually, maybe I could use a change of scenery,” Feyre replied, toying with the idea in her head. “I could continue at the house, but then I’d have other distractions-” she subtly motioned to Nyx, “around.”

“I’ll take Nyx out tomorrow. Give you some peace and quiet,” her mate offered, biting into his steak. She smiled at him. 

“Thank you, Rhys.”

___

Later that night, Nyx was long asleep and Rhys and Feyre were laying together, reading. Feyre sipped on some hot peppermint tea, and in her soft gray pajama set, she was perfectly relaxed. Even more so as her mate slid an arm around her, kissing down her neck. 

She set down her book, and laughing softly, turned to kiss Rhysand, his lips warm and gentle. She wound her fingers in his hair as he slid a hand down her leg. Maybe the pajama set would have to go. 

Sure enough, within minutes they were both fully unclothed. Feyre panted as Rhys slid his fingertips lightly down her stomach, so close to what she wanted. He met her gaze, his eyes near-black, as he circled around her spot of need. She made a small sound at the back of her throat, the sight of him there nearly making her explode. She arched into his fingers as he finally put them where she needed, gripping the bedsheets with her fists. 

When Rhys added his tongue to where his fingers were, she couldn’t take it and moaned as she finished, her mate making sure she enjoyed every second of it. He leaned back up to her, kissing her deeply. Finally, he pushed gently into her, filling every part of her. They clutched each other as they moved, Feyre pulling him into bruising kisses one after another. She tugged on his hair, biting his lip, cupping his neck, until he roared, taking her over the edge with him. 

They lay there together for a while, both panting. “I love you, Feyre,” Rhys whispered into her neck. 

“I love you too, Rhys.”

Tag List <33:

@backtobl4ck, @aelinchocolatelover, @renxzs, @blue-bird17, @autumnbabylon, and @luell1q!

Thank you for reading!

[lost-kingsmen]

Ao3

"You need to rest." Gawain's eye lights flickered briefly - first up, over the edge of his book, and then down to the pages again - at the quiet crunch of dried leaves. Chopper lashed her long tail as her liege tried to ignore her, and grudgingly uncoiled from her comfortable position beneath the desk lamp to stand up and arc her spine in a stretch. "You have been active for six months and fifteen days. You need to rest." She insisted in the soft shushing of leaves in the wind.

"When did you start counting?" Gawain flipped the page of the book to try and make it clear that he wasn't listening. He hadn't read a single sentence in the past ten minutes. He just...he couldn't focus on the words. He got too distracted by the surreal glow of his own eyes on the page and how, no matter where he looked-

Little orange claws hooked over the edges of the pages as Griflet hauled his body up from the knight's lap. Though the spirit's negligible weight barely even made a dent in the paper, Gawain lowered the book anyway, allowing Griflet to climb up and resettle over the pages in a definitive end to his distracted reading.

"Rest is important." Chopper made sounds like the creaking of old trees in a storm as she gathered her long body at the edge of the desk, and then jumped across to take up the space in Gawain's lap that Griflet had vacated. "You need to-"

"NO." Gawain moved to stand up abruptly, causing Chopper and Griflet to tumble off his lap with a series of startled chirps. They recovered quickly, though, and gave their master matching looks of mild offense. "I can't risk it. I can't risk losing another twenty years-" He made a sound akin to breath hissing through clenched teeth as something tried to wedge itself between his palm and clenched fingers, and almost jerked his hand away. Branwen simply reached out again to take the knight's hand and lifted it to press it against the heart-shaped mark on her chest.

"You are not alone anymore." The spirit said in the soft clicking of his brother's building bricks. Gawain made the hissing sound again, but softer - quieter - in the fragile silence that now filled the space in the wake of his own near-shouting. He felt Griflet and Chopper grasp at his other hand, and let his arm go limp so that they could lift it, too.

"We will wake you." Branwen promised in the soft rumble of distant thunder before leaning her long neck in to press her head against the side of his helmet. Griflet and Chopper echoed her with rumbles of their own, patting his hand and arm with their little claws, and Gawain's eyelights narrowed.

But...not in anger.

"I can't lose another twenty years." He repeated in a voice far more defeated than before. Griflet moved to wrap his arms around the knight's wrist in a reassuring little hug. "I've already missed so much, I-. I can't."

"You will not." Branwen promised again, this time in the gentle ticking of the old clock that hung on the wall of his uncle's study. "We will wake you. You are not alone anymore." Gawain said nothing and let his eyelights flicker out of sight. He did not resist, however, when the three spirits guided him to walk around the bean bag chair he'd been sitting in and stand in one corner of the shed, where he could lean against the edge of a windowsill and the frame of a cluttered shelf.

They settled around him - Branwen stretched across his shoulders in a comforting weight, Chopper coiled around his boots like a patrolling guard dog, and Griflet draped across his hands - as the fatigue he had been fighting off for so long began to weigh on him, impossibly heavy and inescapable.

He felt a spike of fear as his awareness began to fade into the dark, but fighting was no option, anymore. Gawain's helmet dipped slightly as he dropped fully under, and Chopper heaved a heavy sigh.

"So dramatic..." She tutted in the tinkling of broken glass. Branwen reached a paw deep into her mouth and dug around for a few seconds before producing an old hourglass in a wooden casing. She set this carefully on a clear spot on the shelf beside them, and then settled back with a satisfied hum.

"Start small." She told the others in the splashing of little feet in a shallow puddle. "One hour. Later more." Chopper rolled her yellow eyes but didn't argue further. Instead, she kept her gaze on the falling sand as the other two drifted off for a quick nap of their own.

"Start small..." She whispered to herself. One hour wasn't nearly enough to make up for months of neglect, but she could understand Gawain's fear....after all, how could one tell an hour from a year when unconscious to the passing of time?

Chopper coiled herself a little tighter around Gawain's boots and watched the falling sand for the rest of the hour.

[tibby]

will u share more ab the decor around the jigsquad house w amanda, adam and lawrence?

oh happily!!!

they live in some like, victorian style home painted a shade of green that could be mistaken for an office space in a neighbourhood full of them. this is the best visual reference i could find for how i picture it in my minds eye:

amanda built a ramp that they placed over the stairs so it's easier for lawrence on a daily basis

lawrence gets primary say over the interior decor because he technically pays the most in terms of mortgage/bills. which isn't to say adam and amanda don't contribute, because they do, but lawrence IS a surgeon who comes from a wealthy family. so it's only fair that he pays the most, and therefore it's only fair that he fills the place with weird statues and nice pieces of art and intricately carved wooden furniture and silk pillows. and also his clock that we see in the first movie.

however. adam and amanda DO also live there so they DO get somewhat of a say. which is why the house's overall decor has the vibe of "trust fund baby going through an emo phase."

adam and amanda kept sticking posters of bands and movies that lawrence has never heard of to the walls and he decided that it was ruining the aesthetic so he had them framed and now adam's crumbled old nine inch nails poster is hanging in an expensive frame next to some painting that lawrence paid an obscene amount of money for.

the kitchen is...surprisingly very domestic and homey. whether or not the weed and shrooms that adam and amanda are growing on the windowsill adds to that or detracts from it is a matter of personal opinion. but yeah! the fridge is covered in photos of the family and drawings by diana and bills and a grocery list that has everything from gourmet cheeses written in lawrence's unreadable doctor's handwriting, kerosene in amanda's chicken scratch, and pop tarts (FROSTED!!!!) in adam's surprisingly beautiful cursive. they have one of those bread/flour/sugar/rice/coffee/etc ceramic container sets and they are ALWAYS filled with the appropriate things. erratic collection of mugs including: one that 4 year old diana painted for lawrence for father's day, the one adam had made that just has a photo of his cat (bastard) on it, the world's worst serial killer mug that amanda got mark for christmas (he tried to bring it into work one time ""ironically"" and strahm nearly had an aneurysm). shelf absolutely stuffed with cookbooks and a homemade spice rack on the wall and a coat hanger with a bunch of embarrassing aprons (they intentionally bought pink ones with heart shaped pockets or cringe ones like KISS THE COOK because mark does a lot of the cooking and they love to see mark "built like a brick shithouse" hoffman in the most ridiculous aprons they could find). sometimes they work on smaller traps on the kitchen table but for the most part that is done in the basement.

murder basement is dark and gloomy and adam hates being in there because well. it's where they make murder traps. so he tried to liven things up in the most intentionally annoying way possible by putting like, fairy lights and lava lamps and beanbags everywhere. it's tacky and they all hate it but if lounging around on a beanbag is the only way for adam to spend more than five minutes there then so be it. the lock on the basement door is all rusted and they tell everyone that "oh we can't get it open haha we just don't use the basement" which is a horrible cover story but it works so. who am i to judge. the basement is also where they store their holiday decorations so there's stuff like a christmas tree and a dancing skeleton figure amongst their tools designed to maim and/or kill. they're kind of weird.

i think amanda isn't used to being allowed to have and keep things so she's a bit of a hoarder. i said this in my mandy hcs post but she's a big reader and doesn't ever throw out any of her books, which range from big hardcovers to tacky romance paperbacks that are falling apart. the bookshelf is full so there's random piles of them all over the house and she WILL somehow know if one is missing and there WILL be bloodshed.

erratic shared vinyl collection? erratic shared vinyl collection. erratic shared cd collection? erratic shared cd collection. erratic shared dvd collection? erratic shared dvd collection.

lawrence got full control over decorating his and adam's bedroom, which adam didn't really care about because they just use it to sleep and have sex. his only request was that he could hang up a bunch of photos of them (many with diana) and lawrence happily agreed. anyway. it's all a nice wooden bedframe and matching drawers and bedside tables and like, silk sheets and an incredibly expensive mattress. they have a little ensuite and the light is ALWAYS on in there because adam can't handle full darkness anymore, let alone in bathrooms. it's kind of boring but like. whatever. let the murder gays be boring in their love nest.

amanda's room is more all over the place, there's barely an inch of free wall space because again, a little bit of hoarder tendencies. she's got postcards and photos and ripped pages from books and magazines stuck up everywhere. lots of reds and purples with the upholstery and the curtains and whatnot. she's got a little desk that's absolutely covered in sketches and trap plans and poems and letters because she's always working on something. adam is forbidden from smoking in his and lawrence's room (tbh lawrence keeps trying to get them to stop smoking in the house but they don't listen) so he usually smokes with mandy in her room.

adam's cat bastard as her own room. bastard does not usually sleep in her room in her fancy pet bed, because cats are like that. bastard is banned from sleeping in adam and lawrence's room after she ate a bird (that was still alive during) on their nice silk sheets. there are dead things in bastard's room and more toys than any cat could ever have. nobody is allowed in there except bastard or adam unless they want to lose an arm.

the other spare room is for diana, and it is constantly changing because she is a growing girl and her interests are constantly shifting. it is on the top floor of the house and has a giant window that looks out into the backyard.

ik the backyard isn't really decor but they do have a very nice large one and adam has a vegetable patch that he tends to religiously. adam's green thumb is a shock to everyone given that he once tried to serve them pasta boiled in gatorade. but. he loves his vegetables and his fruits and his flowers so love is love. they also have a hammock and a back porch with rocking chairs on it.

[liaromancewriter]

Moonlight

Premise: Ethan and Cassie spend a weekend at Naveen’s lake house before starting their new jobs.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Mature (NSFW). Fluff. Words: 1,785

A/N: This is the last of the anon requests. Late submission for @choicesmonthlychallengejune2022 Day 20, ‘undress’

Cassie Valentine woke to the quiet and the dark. It took her a few minutes to remember why she couldn’t hear the dull sounds of traffic outside her window or why the bedroom walls were wood paneled instead of painted a pleasant shade of blue.

They were at Naveen’s lake house outside the city, a last weekend away before they started their new roles at Boston’s Edenbrook hospital. Her as Director of the Diagnostics Team and him as Chief of Medicine.

Dr. Ethan Ramsey, the occasional rebel and wildcard of medicine was going to become Chief Ramsey. She couldn’t be prouder of how he’d started to embrace the role and its possibilities. 

He had inspired her before they’d ever met and continued to inspire her after. And now he would get to shape more generations of physicians to come.

But that was for next week. For the next two days, they would just be Cassie and Ethan and spend this time away from their responsibilities relaxing and reconnecting with each other. 

In more ways than one, she thought with satisfaction, remembering their explosive lovemaking as soon as they’d walked through the door.

The bedsheet beside her was cool to touch and she wondered where Ethan could be at this time of night. The bedside clock signaled it was two o’clock in the morning. She climbed out of bed and reached for her robe, tying the belt into a loose knot as she padded to the window overlooking the lake.

There in the pale moonlight she saw him, his powerful body cutting through the dark water as he swam towards the dock. Smiling, she took the stairs down, her bare feet not making any sound, the silk train of the robe fluttering behind her.

She reached the edge of the wooden dock at the same time he did, noticing how the moonlight made his body appear silver in the dark and the ripple of muscles in his upper arms as he tread water, floating in place.

“Hi,” she whispered, suddenly feeling shy at the heated gaze in his eyes.

He perused her standing above him, those beautiful blue eyes growing dark as he slowly scanned her body, starting from her bare legs, stopping at the crotch and then her breasts, her nipples pebbling against the silk the longer he stared.

“Hi,” he said back, amused at how her eyes drifted down to his bare chest, lower still before snapping back up when she realized he wasn’t wearing swimming trunks.

In the dark he couldn’t see her blush, but the hitch in her breathing and the slight parting of her lips gave her away. Keeping Cassie on her toes wasn’t always easy, but he knew how to take advantage when given the opportunity.

“Take off the robe,” he ordered, his voice rough with thoughts of what he’d like to do her.

She hesitated and he drifted closer. “Don’t make me repeat myself. Undress. Now.”

“We’re out in the open,” she said in a tone that betrayed her excitement tempered by a lifetime of caution.

He grinned. “I know. It’s the middle of the night and there’s no one around for miles. We’re completely alone, love. I promise you.”

He placed his wet hands on her ankles and watched her shiver from the cold and something more. Her eyes stayed on his as she unbelted the robe, teasing him by slowly slithering it down her arms, revealing her nude body inch by inch when she stopped. The tops of her breasts held the material up while her hand pressed against her core, denying him a peek.

“Don’t tease me, Rookie,” he warned with a growl. “You won’t like the consequences.”

Her resulting smirk and challenging look told him she wasn’t afraid. When she turned her back to him, her long blonde hair swept to the side over shoulders laid bare, he gripped the edge of the dock and pulled himself up and out of the water.

She glanced over her shoulder, eyes widening at his nakedness and started to run, but he was on her in seconds, stripping the robe away as he lifted her in his arms. Before she could react, he was running and—keeping her secure in his arms—jumped off the dock.

Her shriek turned into a moan as his mouth covered hers before they hit the water and soon she forgot everything but his tongue dueling with hers, his hands roaming over her body, those clever fingers flicking her nipples before descending to tease her.

She felt boneless and would have sunk if it wasn’t for him. His arm tightened around her waist, keeping her pressed against him, his erection nudging her lower belly. He hooked one finger inside her then another, his thumb pressed firmly against the top of her sex.

Drowning in lust, she started to give in to her arousal when he suddenly stopped and moved away from her. Ready to scream in frustration, her eyes snapped open to see him watching her intently, a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

“I told you,” he said, “you wouldn’t like the consequences.”

“Seriously?” she groaned. “This is not the time for one of your lessons, babe. I’m so close.”

“Then finish it,” he commanded. “I want to see you come. Use your hands. You know how.”

She shook her head. “It’s not the same without you.”

“Spread your legs, love,” he said in a soft voice at odds with the blaze in his eyes. “That’s it. Now, cup your breasts like you’re offering them to me, pinch your nipples until they ache for my mouth.”

He continued to murmur words of encouragement, directing her, dominating her every move. His eyes were almost black as he watched one hand drift below the water while she played with her breasts with the other. Her moans echoed through the night and her eyes started to drift close.

“Eyes open and on me,” he snapped in command. “You can’t come until I say you can. Is that clear?”

“But, Ethan…” she whimpered, eyes pleading. “You said if I wanted to come I had to finish it myself. Please.”

His teeth gleamed in amusement. “I lied.”

Her look turned insolent and she leaned against the wooden post holding up the dock, her hand disobeying his command, her eyes challenging him to punish her for her defiance. It worked.

Ethan snarled, cutting through the still waters so quickly that she barely saw him move until he was on her. The hard, rough skin of his palm covered her hand, pressing the heel of his hand against her core, keeping her fingers locked beneath him, the combined pressure of their hands sending her over the edge.

Waves of pleasure shook her body, but before Cassie could catch her breath his erection probed her opening and he thrust inside, hard and deep. His hands gripped her ass and he reversed their positions, leaning back against the post as he rocked her to completion.

Her head fell back and he bent his head, kissing and sucking the sensitive skin at the base of her throat. Her moans egged him on as she climaxed again, but he wasn’t in any hurry to finish, wanting to prolong this feeling of being inside her, her inner muscles welcoming him home.

She rolled her hips, her lips gliding over his, her tongue teasing the inner shell of his ear,  whispering words of love. “Come for me, Ethan. I’m here, my love.”

And he finally let go, his movements frenzied as she met the snap of his hips with her own. He wanted to keep his eyes open, watch the love he’d come to expect as his due in her eyes, but his climax was overwhelming and he stiffened against her, crying out her name as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

A short while later, his eyes drifted open when she started giggling, her arms circling his neck.

“I wonder how the rumor mill at work would react if they found out Dr. Ramsey is a secret exhibitionist,” she mused. “I should have guessed it was so when the first time you made me come was against your bedroom window with all of Boston watching.”

“The glass is treated,” he grinned. “The only one that enjoyed the view of Dr. Valentine coming undone on my mouth was me.”

When she rolled her eyes, he kissed her, slow and deep, before resting his forehead against hers. “Want to know a secret? I never even thought of making love against those windows until you asked me to show you the view.”

“Not even with Har…”

“No one but you,” he cut in. “Don’t get me wrong. We both know I have plenty of experience, but there are some things that I never even considered doing before you came along. I never trusted anyone enough to let go completely, not just physically but emotionally, to be vulnerable. But with you, I know I can.”

She heard the sincerity in his voice and knew what it cost him to give her the words. “Thank you for trusting me, Ethan. I hope you know it’s the same for me. No one before you ever made me feel this way. I love you.”

“I love you too, Cassie. Always only you.”

She smiled at the vow and then he was kissing her, a soft caress that made her shiver more than their lovemaking.

“I’m freezing,” she said, laughing at the mundane thought. “Since you dumped me in a cold lake, Dr. Ramsey. I hope you’re planning to warm me up too.”

“Didn’t I just do that?” he teased, but he held her hand and led her to the staircase built on the side of the dock.

She climbed up, water dripping on the wooden slats as she walked over to where her robe had fallen to the ground. He grasped the edge of the dock and climbed out of the water in an easy, practiced move, and reached for the stack of towels he’d brought out earlier.

Quickly drying himself and her, he took her hand and led her out of the moonlit dock to the living room inside. He took a throw from the back of the couch and spread it in front of the fireplace. He lit the fire and joined her on the floor, folding her in his arms, her head resting on his chest.

As flames flickered on the walls, and darkness gave way to dawn, Ethan never knew when he fell asleep. But when he awoke, Cassie was still in his arms and all was right in his world.

All Fics & Edits: @potionsprefect @trappedinfanfiction @bex-la-get @mysticalgalaxysstuff @genevievemd @choicesaddict5 @jerzwriter @rookiemartin @schnitzelbutterfingers @vi-writes-stuff @coffeeheartaddict2 @quixoticdreamer16 @dorisz @zahrachoices @lucy-268 @a-crepusculo @jamespotterthefirst @ofmischiefandmedicine @headoverheelsforramsey @takemyopenheart @gryffindordaughterofathena @queencarb @crazy-loca-blog @natureblooms24

Ethan & Cassie only: @custaroonie​ @lady-calypso

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics 

[myimaginedcorner]

A TUMBLR STORY: TORN PAGE (p.1)

Light fades, and with it, darkness comes to be.

Void has no smell. It has no sounds, nor there’s a thing to see. Nothing is what caresses skin, its touch bearing no feelings. No cold chills bones, no heat warms mind and heart. The emptiness is omniscient, all-present. It weighs, and yet, its heavy pressure bears no harm – it doesn’t exist.

Void isn’t place for someone with remains. Sparks don’t ling love without air to maintain their flame, and so is Mind dependent on external stimulus. Inside the void, sanity fades away – no creature, not even a god, is able to resist what Nothing is. Yet, here you are. Alive where Life and Death dare not to show their thousand faces.

You want to scream, perhaps, but there’s no air to let you breathe. You want to know, but there’s no knowledge left around for your consumption. Your mind, too lively for this place beyond existence, remains trapped in the sole truth that still defines you – that there’s nothing else.

Hold on to it, for it’s the sole thing that can be perceived in Nothing. Claw to your conscience, as it threatens to disappear. You don’t know how long you’re left, here. Perhaps, you’ve been here centuries; perhaps, these were few seconds that you’ve had to live. Where Time is not a king, you’re left unbound to laws that ruled over your soul and body. Now, free of all, you’re bigger than you ever were, only to see how you’re still part of Nothing.

Stars blink. Not in the void, there’s nothing there for you. In your eyes, blinded by the darkness, light suddenly appears again, curious visitor that seeks response. You’re eager to reach out – your scream becomes an audible whisper, your eyes reflecting a caged creature that had been forgotten. You’re still there, despite all.

Congratulations.

***

It’s raining. Hiding from the cold drops, you open the big door and enter the warm premise, greeted by the subdued dance of a dozen candles.

You’re in a tavern. Lamps hang above your head, reflecting many colours, dyed crystals shaped into many forms. Bright wooden walls, covered in paint of rainbow palette, bear childlike presence of naïve décor, tints blended into messy patterns without clear design. Wardrobes stand around, their waists twisted into odd positions, peak and foundation different in size and shape. Tables – made with equal accuracy – hold lamps without fire nor light, only dark smoke of a purple tone raising towards the messy ceiling. A couple creatures sit around, drink in hand. They barely notice your entrance.

 “Ah, finally.”

A voice calls for you, sympathetic. Like songs of seas and rivers, its melody reveals you nothing of its owner. It has no age, no start or end present in its cheerful notes. It has no identity, its overwhelming wave drowning perceptions in its flow. It has no description, being all things at once and none of them at the same time. You can hear it, and yet, you question your own ears to be tricking your mind.

In front of you, behind the bar, a man stands. You’re quite sure they’re a man, at least, for now. Their ginger hair covers their ears with smooth, straight locks, their skin dyed by the light of candles. Their eyes are green, greener than grass or trees, emeralds paling in their presence. Dark diamonds rest on their eyelids, their brows and cheeks, two tattoos decorating what surrounds their vision. A hat stays on their head, a bigger one than they’ll ever need. It’s of obnoxious forms, its colour changing every time you try defining it. Two feathers stick out of a decorative band, a clock caged in the golden frame that holds them. Some flowers finish off the odd creation, their blossom set on repeat every other minute.

“New here, I see,” they smile, carefully cleaning a new glass. “Sit, be at home. We do all kinds of drinks here, I’m sure I’ll find your fit.”

Their smile is big and happy. Leaning with one hand on the table, they look you right into the eyes.

“So, where are you from? What’s your poison?”

KNOWN WORLDS:

Therania – Located on the verge of the Synara system, it rests quite far from the Universe’s centre. Having quite a thick energy layer, creatures there have developed energetic affinity, and learned how to control the invisible core of the material plane. Stagnant in scientific progress, it’s nonetheless considered one of the most powerful magical systems in the Cosmos. Its most prominent species are humans, elves and satyrs, although some others also walk its soil away from stranger gazes. Its main religions are the Old Gods and Fate, with Fate currently set as the one official faith for all human civilisations. It’s ruled by the Law of Black and White.

Myria – Located in the Haptra system, it isn’t far from other sentient worlds. Their energy layer was damaged by the One Star War, and now it’s considered vulnerable to otherworldly incursions. Underdeveloped after the lich Ego practically erased its strongest civilisations and took over an entire continent, Myria nonetheless shows a steady progress both in magic and science. Its most prominent species are humans, elves, dwarves and undead. Smaller civilisations include winged-walkers and dryads. Myria is also polytheistic and has no prominent church that raises above others. On world-scale, Myria believes in the Law of Black and White – however, many there know that nothing is so simple as a fairy tale.

Earth – A world located close to the Universe’s centre. Nothing is known about its energy layer or its potential. It’s a world of scientific progress, with magic forgotten by its only remnant human civilisation. It’s thought to be the cradle of the human species, once open to the worlds beyond. In places that still keep knowledge of this now closed realm, its name has one accepted meaning – “Where Gods live.”

Talhik – No one has ever heard of this world before. You’ll have to define it for us yourself (Initiate a week-long day-by-day story update to define a world between us all).

[adventurebeforedementia]

Autumn in Bologna

So many beautiful places to see in Italy and autumn seems the perfect time for this adventure. So much history, wall-to-wall sunshine, 30 degrees plus and dodging the rain in Blighty. What more could you want?

We’ve been clocking up the steps in Bologna, taking in the sights and experiencing the Italian way of life in this lovely country. We’re learning more about how things work and meeting so many new people from across Europe and beyond.

It was an easy journey into Bologna by public bus which came into the campsite for pick up and drop off. Bologna is famous as the birthplace of Marconi, the inventor of radio and his contribution is credited across the city.

Our first stop was the Salaborsa Library where the remains of an ancient Roman city are hidden below. Visitors can see the ruins through the floor of the library and go underground to explore further. Two main streets and the remains of an ancient sewage system built in the 2nd and 3rd Centuries BC can be seen. But deeper ruins suggest an even earlier settlement was there before the founding of Bologna.

The heart of the city is Piazza Maggiore and is home to the Basilica of San Petronio which is Bologna’s most beloved and important church - but not it’s Cathedral, that is in another part of the city. The Basilica is dedicated to Petronius, the patron saint of the city, but it was never finished because the project was considered too complicated.

Piazza Santo Stefano is also an important site, named after the Basilica Santo Stefano which was in fact, built as not one church but a complex of seven. Restoration work in the 1800s changed the shape of the complex and four churches now remain.

Inside, you can wander through this incredible building where every section has its own story to tell. There you can see the remains of the monastery of Santo Stefano and its cloister and the oldest nativity scene in the world.

Bologna also has a 60km network of underground canals, the latest dating back to the 12th Century. These channels are now largely covered but we were able to view the “window on the canal” and this area of the city is known as “little Venice”.

Alex has been scaling the heights again. He climbed the Asinelli Tower - the highest authentic Mediaeval tower in Italy at 97 metres high. It was originally built in 1150 to defend the city but is now a major tourist attraction.

This climb was challenging to say the least as most of the others attempting this feat were considerably younger - by about 40 years! To get to the top, Alex climbed 498 steps in a winding stone and wooden staircase only wide enough for one person. There was a sheer drop to one side and a small, wooden handrail to the other.

He had to make the climb without stopping to catch his breath because he was being pursued by the 20-somethings coming up behind him. His reward was a fabulous 360 degree panoramic view of the city - but I was more worried that he was going to have a heart attack before reaching the top!

After surviving this ordeal - sorry heroic challenge - we felt it wouldn’t be right to come to Bologna without sampling one of its delicious cakes. So we found a little coffee shop tucked away in one of its historic streets and added probably half a stone each with a Primavera. It was so worth it!

Now we’re in Florence, walking off the Primavera and continuing on the next stage of our Italian adventure.

[giftsideas]

5 Lovely and Exceptional 60th Birthday Gift Ideas for Mom 

Celebrating the 60th birthday means that one has shaped a remarkable life of stories, experiences, and beautiful memories. So, when you are celebrating the 60th birthday of your special ones, an ordinary gift won’t be enough. We will help you find the perfect gift from our list of 60th birthday gift ideas for Mom that will go with the love, respect, and admiration you hold for her.   

For more exceptional birthday gift ideas, use Think.gift - the best gift search engine. 

Custom Cutting Board 

A cutting board can be a helpful gift for your mother and will also touch her heart. You can have this wooden board customized with a special message showing how much you love the taste of her food or any quote. This will put a smile on her face whenever she is in the kitchen. These boards are available in beautiful designs and ensure the safety and hygiene of the food. 

Leather Journal 

Made with high-quality leather, this journal will have a luxurious feel and you can add a beautiful design to its cover for more elegance. It will surely go with her personality. She can keep a record of her memories in this journal and every page she turns will make her remember your love for her. You can have this personalized by adding a special message of your own on its cover. 

Custom Wall Clock 

A custom wall clock can be one of the unique 60th birthday gift ideas for Mom. Have this clock personalized with family photos cherishing the love. You can use it to tell her life story in vivid photos. You can have this clock in different shapes and add a special message in the center.  

Personalized Key Hanger 

Mothers always prefer gifts they can use in the home and a key hanger can be one of these. It is a useful gift, and you can have it customized for a warm feeling. You can have 3 or more photos printed on the key hanger with a message. Made with wood, you can have these key hangers in different designs and of the finest quality. 

Plant Pot 

A customized plant pot can help you celebrate the special bond you have with your mother. Made from ceramic, this pot will stay with her longer and you can have your family photos printed on it. It will remind your mother of your love and will be the perfect decor for any space. Apart from photos, you can have a date, or a message printed on it as well. 

Conclusion 

We understand the importance of your mother’s 60th birthday in your life and choosing a gift that perfectly assembles your relationship with her and her life journey. For this, we have combined this list of 60th birthday gift ideas for Mom that include different thoughtful gift ideas specially designed for the celebration of this day. 

Find more top-notch gift ideas with Think.gift - the top gift search engine. 

[rainydance91]

🌙 Day 6: The Midnight Seance

Day 5 is here if you missed it - Rain's ghostly tales on Tumblr

As you prepare to recreate the midnight seance described in the diary, a sense of anticipation hangs heavy in the air. The room you've chosen for this endeavor is filled with an otherworldly ambiance. Candles flicker, casting eerie shadows on the walls, and the air feels charged with unseen energies.

The diary mentioned specific steps for the seance, including the arrangement of candles, an antique mirror, and a handwritten incantation that must be recited at the stroke of midnight. With each item carefully placed, you and your team gather around the seance table.

🕯️ The clock's hands move closer to midnight, and you can feel the tension in the room. The atmosphere grows still, and you take a deep breath, ready to begin the ritual. As the clock chimes midnight, you start to recite the incantation, your voice trembling slightly.

🪞 The antique mirror before you shimmers with an otherworldly glow. A cold breeze fills the room, making the candle flames dance. You can feel a presence, an unseen force that seems to surround you.

👻 Suddenly, in the mirror's reflection, you catch a glimpse of ghostly figures. Flickering like candle flames, they appear to be the spirits of the family mentioned in the diary. They watch you with a mix of curiosity and sadness.

🔮 One spirit steps forward, and in a faint whisper, it begins to share its story, weaving a tale of love, betrayal, and a hidden room that holds the answers you seek. The spirit hints that the room can only be accessed through the power of the moon.

With these cryptic clues, you realize that your journey is far from over, and the hidden room remains an enigma waiting to be unraveled.

🚪🌟 Your challenge for Day 6 is to decipher the spirits' message, particularly the reference to the power of the moon. How does the moon play a role in unlocking the hidden room's secrets? The answers lie ahead as you continue your ghost-hunting adventure.

🌒 Stay tuned for Day 7 as you delve deeper into the mansion's mysteries. Share your thoughts and progress using the hashtags #GhostHuntingAdventure #MysteryUnsolved #Day6. The supernatural journey continues, and the secrets of Darkheaven Manor are within reach. 🌙🪞👻

Day 1 and 2 clues were the mysterious letter and that it was sent by the Ghost Hunter Society.

Day 3 clue was "Seek the moon's reflection in the heart of the forgotten garden." What is the "moon's reflection," and where can it be found? What does "the heart of the forgotten garden" signify? Is there something hidden there that will unlock the mysterious door? The moon-shaped locket could be found in the garden pond and it was revealed by moonlight reflecting on the pond and it was the heart of the forgotten garden.

Day 4 clue. Behind the locked door, you find a room filled with dusty old books, antique furniture, and a sense of history that hangs in the air. But what captures your attention the most is an old, weathered diary placed on a wooden desk. Its pages seem to hold the key to the mansion's past. The diary hints at a ritual performed by the family in an attempt to communicate with spirits from beyond. It mentions an amulet, similar to the moon-shaped locket you found, as a crucial part of the ritual. Could the amulet mentioned in the diary be the very locket in your possession? The room referred to in the diary is located "where the heart and mind meet." This cryptic description suggests that the room may be situated at the center of the mansion, where both emotional and intellectual activities take place. The moon-shaped locket you found is likely connected to a ritual mentioned in the diary, possibly associated with communicating with spirits from beyond.

Day 5 clue. Your challenge for Day 5 is to decipher the purpose of the spectral key, and with newfound determination, you continue your quest to unveil the mansion's secrets.

[homedecor-shop-online]

Decorative Pieces That Will Transform Your Living Space

Introduction:

Your living room is the heart of your home, a place where you gather with family and friends to create cherished memories. To elevate the ambiance of your living space and infuse it with elegance, warmth, and personality, Satguru's brings you an exquisite collection of decorative pieces that are sure to mesmerize. From wooden home decor to stunning showpieces, their handcrafted creations offer a perfect blend of artistry and functionality.

In this blog, we'll explore some of the finest decorative items for your living room, curated by Satguru's, that will undoubtedly transform your home into a haven of beauty and style.

Art Statues

Transform your home into a sanctuary of artistic expression with a captivating array of art statues, the perfect decorative objects for home, by Satguru's, designed exclusively for home decor enthusiasts.

Delight in the divine presence with exquisitely crafted God Idols that emanate spiritual energy and grace any space with their divine aura.

For those seeking contemporary elegance, immerse yourself in the beauty of modern sculptures that blend artistic finesse with modern sensibilities.

Experience the rich heritage of Indian art with intricately detailed Indian art statues, reflecting the country's diverse culture and traditions.

Discover inner peace and enlightenment with the serene presence of Buddha statues, symbolizing wisdom and tranquility.

Satguru's collection of art statues transcends time and culture, elevating your living spaces to the realm of true artistic splendor.

Handcrafted Figurines

Elevate your living room's aesthetics with handcrafted figurines by Satguru's. These exquisite decorative items for living rooms are skillfully carved from various materials like wood, metal, and stone, and each piece reflects the dedication and artistry of the craftsmen. Whether you prefer traditional cultural figurines or contemporary abstract designs, Satguru's has an impressive selection of handicrafts that caters to all tastes and preferences.

Wooden Home Décor

Satguru's offers a mesmerizing collection of wooden decor that effortlessly blends artistry and craftsmanship. Each piece from their collection embodies timeless elegance and showcases the beauty of natural wood. From intricately carved wall hangings to finely crafted statues, Satguru's brings the warmth and rustic charm of wood into every corner of your living spaces. 

Whether you seek to add a touch of nature-inspired art to your walls or desire aesthetically pleasing wooden statues, Satguru's offers a diverse range of wooden home decor designs that cater to all tastes and styles.

Candle Stands and Diyas

Satguru's presents an exquisite collection of beautifully crafted candle stands and diyas that exude elegance and spiritual charm. These candle stands and diyas not only serve as captivating home decor pieces but also hold deeper symbolic significance, illuminating spaces with their gentle glow and spreading a sense of tranquility and positivity.

Whether adorning the sanctity of a prayer room or enhancing the ambiance of any space, Satguru's candle stands and diyas infuse an aura of serenity, making them a delightful addition to any discerning home.

Vases and Planters

Satguru's offers an exquisite collection of vases and planters that epitomize elegance and craftsmanship. Each piece in their collection is a testament to the fusion of contemporary designs and timeless aesthetics. Crafted from premium materials, these vases and planters boast intricate detailing and unique shapes, making them stand out as a statement showpiece for living rooms.

Whether one seeks a minimalist touch or a bold statement, Satguru's has something to suit every taste. The seamless blend of functionality and artistic expression in their creations makes Satguru's a top choice for those seeking to elevate the ambiance of their homes with the beauty of nature.

Artistic Clocks

Satguru's unrivaled collection of clocks is a true testament to the brand's dedication to precision and design excellence.From ornate wall clocks that exude sophistication to sleek and modern desk clocks, Satguru's caters to a diverse range of tastes and preferences. The meticulous attention to detail in the clock's design and the use of premium materials ensure durability and accuracy, making Satguru's clocks not only a decorative accent but also a reliable timekeeping companion. With their exquisite clocks, Satguru's continues to set the standard for elegance and quality, enriching homes and offices with a touch of timeless elegance.

Conclusion

Satguru's presents an exquisite array of decorative objects for home that can effortlessly elevate its ambiance. From wooden home decor and handcrafted figurines to brass and metal accents, their collection caters to diverse tastes and preferences. Each piece showcases the skill and passion of the craftsmen, adding a unique touch of artistry to your living space. So, embrace the beauty of handcrafted art and transform your living space into a sanctuary of elegance and style with Satguru's remarkable decorative items.

[clockdesign2]

How Do I Choose a Wall Clock?

In this article, we embark on an odyssey through the enigmatic realm of wall clocks. These functional timekeeping devices transcend their mere utilitarian purpose, morphing into captivating statement pieces that enrich the ambiance of any room. The quest for the perfect wall clock, a testament to one's personal style and harmonious with the living space, proves to be an exhilarating challenge. Along this journey, we shall also unravel the allure of unique gift ideas, transforming special occasions into unforgettable memories. From the realm of timeless elegance to bespoke artistry, these exceptional gifts are poised to leave an indelible mark on the hearts of beloved recipients. Join us as we delve into the fascinating world of wall clocks, revealing the path to the ideal selection while indulging in these captivating gift inspirations.

The Genesis: Determining Purpose and Location Embarking on the quest for the quintessential wall clock necessitates an introspective examination of its purpose and intended location. Ponder the spatial abode where the clock shall reside and contemplate its envisioned role. Shall it stand as a mesmerizing focal point, arresting the gaze of all who lay eyes upon it? Alternatively, shall it seamlessly meld with the existing decor, becoming an unassuming yet essential element of the room's essence? The selection journey takes on a distinct hue based on whether the clock finds its abode in the kitchen, living room, bedroom, or office. A profound comprehension of purpose and location propels the process forward, leading to the discovery of a wall clock that harmonizes with the overarching ambiance of its destined dwelling.

Dimensions in Harmony: Choosing a Design Style The tapestry of wall clocks unravels into a kaleidoscope of design styles, each exuding a unique aesthetic essence. The discerning eye seeks a style that resonates with personal taste and aligns seamlessly with the room's decor. Amidst this diverse panorama, several captivating design styles beckon:

Classic: Time-honored elegance personified, classic wall clocks boast an eternal charm, adorned with Roman numerals, ornate embellishments, and exquisite finishes. Nestled within a room adorned with a traditional or vintage-inspired decor, these clocks transcend time itself.

Modern/Contemporary: Embracing the allure of sleek lines and minimalist opulence, modern wall clocks epitomize contemporary aesthetics. Clean dials, bold markers, and a celebration of simplicity distinguish these timepieces. They thrive harmoniously in modern, minimalist, or transitional spaces.

Rustic/Farmhouse: Evoking an aura of warmth and nostalgia, rustic or farmhouse-style wall clocks emanate a cozy ambiance. Distressed finishes, wooden accents, and an air of vintage grandeur are their defining hallmarks. Within farmhouse, country, or cottage-style interiors, they find their true abode.

Industrial: For those with an affinity for the raw and rugged, industrial-style wall clocks reign supreme. Fusing metal elements, exposed gears, and daring designs, they inject an urban, edgy vibe into modern or eclectic spaces.

Unique/Artistic: Seeking to make an indelible statement, unique and artistic wall clocks rise to the occasion. Unconventional shapes, intricate patterns, and vibrant hues mark these timekeepers as captivating focal points within any room.

As the discerning connoisseur selects the design style that befits their vision, they unravel the enchanting tapestry of the clock's seamless integration into the room's aesthetic, infusing it with resplendent visual allure.

Masterpieces of Matter: Considering Materials and Durability In the quest for the perfect wall clock, the material selection takes center stage, for it wields an indelible influence on both durability and aesthetic impact. A symphony of distinct materials beckons to the discerning eye:

Wood: An embodiment of warmth and natural allure, wooden wall clocks cast a captivating spell. Embracing a spectrum from solid hardwood to wood veneers, their very essence hinges on the type of wood employed, be it the majestic oak, the resplendent walnut, or the sustainable bamboo.

Metal: Pioneering a vista of sleek modernity, metal wall clocks exude contemporary chic. Stainless steel, brushed aluminum, and wrought iron converge in a symphony of durable allure.

Plastic: A realm of lightweight, affordable diversity unfolds in the realm of plastic wall clocks. A spectrum of colors and styles cater to casual or children's domains.

Glass: A touch of elegance and sophistication emanates from glass wall clocks, unveiling transparent or frosted dials, exuding a modern allure.

Thus, the astute connoisseur considers the implications of material selection, comprehending the occasional indulgence of polishing for solid wood, while metal or plastic confers resilience in the face of time's relentless march.

Mechanics of Time: Determining the Movement Type The very heartbeat of a wall clock resides within its movement type, the celestial mechanism that animates its hands, fostering a dance with time's unyielding rhythm. Three distinct movements beckon:

Mechanical: Revering tradition and nostalgia, mechanical movements thrive on the pulse of manual winding. Amidst their antique and vintage-style counterparts, they craft a captivating tapestry. The connoisseur shall savor the timeless beauty they bestow, though it bequeaths upon them the solemn responsibility of periodic winding to honor accuracy.

Quartz: The quintessential contemporary spirit of precision finds its abode in quartz movements. These battery-powered marvels are lauded for their reliability, enthralling the connoisseur with a dance of accuracy. Modest in their maintenance requirements, they only seek periodic respite in the form of battery replacements.

Atomic/Radio-Controlled: Ascending to the zenith of temporal accuracy, atomic or radio-controlled clocks draw sustenance from celestial time signals transmitted by atomic clocks through ethereal radio waves. A symphony of synchronization ensures the highest echelon of accuracy, adjusting with seamless grace for daylight saving time, while preserving unwavering precision.

Deliberating on the confluence of convenience, accuracy, and maintenance, the discerning seeker of temporal artistry charters their course toward the practical oasis of quartz, embracing it as their daily companion.

The Alchemy of Features: Factor in Additional Enchantment Beyond the realm of timekeeping, a myriad of beguiling features adorn some wall clocks, conferring an enchanting tapestry of functionality and convenience. The discerning connoisseur shall ponder the following ethereal features, attuned to their very essence:

Date Display: A marvel of dual function, wall clocks adorned with date displays transcend time's mere procession, conjuring forth temporal insights alongside temporal markings.

Temperature and Humidity Display: Embracing the essence of environmental stewardship, some clocks are imbued with the power to reveal nature's whims through integrated temperature and humidity sensors. In spaces demanding climatic vigilance, these clocks thrive as invaluable guides within wine cellars or nurseries.

Chimes or Sound Effects: Resonating with the soul, certain wall clocks offer enchanting chimes or sound effects, elevating the very atmosphere of a room. Melodic cadences resonate at specific intervals, forging an elegant symphony amid the silent dance of time. Meanwhile, nature's gentle whispers or mellifluous music might serenade the senses.

Light or Illumination: Illumination, both celestial and man-made, pervades the domain of wall clocks. Luminous LED lights or the graceful caress of soft backlighting pierce the veil of darkness, gifting nocturnal souls with the luxury of time's reading amid the night's embrace.

Contemplating these ethereal features with discerning perspicacity, the seeker of personalized allure shall imbue their wall clock with a symphony of purpose, refining it into an artifact uniquely aligned with their preferences and needs.

A Symphony of Choice: The Perfect Wall Clock and Exceptional Gift Ideas Selecting the crowning jewel of the living space, the wall clock assumes a form of functional artistry, a canvas that artfully portrays one's character. The profound evaluation of purpose, design style, materials, movement type, and features culminates in a revelation that marries practicality and personal flair.

Yet, the chronicle of wall clocks transcends its intrinsic confines, blossoming into a celebration of heartwarming sentiment and fond memory. Amidst the interwoven fabric of time, special occasions gleam like radiant stars in the celestial expanse. Herein lies the realm of exceptional gift ideas, a treasure trove of soulful inspirations that kindle the joy of giving:

Personalized Grandeur: As the unique gift envisions, a bespoke wall clock adorned with heartwarming personalization epitomizes the heartfelt gesture that resonates across the eons.

Whimsical Abstractions: Unfurling an artist's imagination upon the canvas of time, the gift of an abstract or whimsical wall clock evokes the spirit of enchantment, drawing the recipient into a realm of wonder.

A Celestial Ode: The celestial cosmos sparkles with an array of celestial-themed wall clocks, where stars dance in harmony with lunar splendor, encapsulating the essence of timeless wonder.

Timeless Vintage Revival: A glimpse into the annals of yesteryears reveals a treasure trove of vintage-inspired wall clocks, embracing nostalgia and timeless allure, an ideal gift for those with an appreciation of antiquity.

Futuristic Marvels: Journeying to the precipice of tomorrow, futuristic wall clocks mirror the spirit of innovation and technological marvel, bestowing an exceptional gift upon those who embrace the path of progress.

Through the artful tapestry of exceptional gift ideas, the seeker of luminescent joy touches the hearts of loved ones, creating cherished memories that linger forever.

Epilogue: A Timeless Expression As the seeker of temporal artistry concludes their reverie, the profound tale of wall clocks unveils its denouement. It is not merely a tale of time-telling devices; it is an eloquent narrative of functional art that breathes life into living spaces. The quest for the perfect wall clock unearths a piece of profound resonance, embodying one's character, taste, and style. It becomes an expression of creative spirit, an emblem of individuality that resonates across the temporal canvas.

In the grand tapestry of time, the enigmatic allure of wall clocks finds its apotheosis, weaving memories and moments into the fabric of existence. As the seeker of time's profound enigma, one indulges in the symphony of purpose, design, materials, movement, and features. Each stroke of choice paints a portrait of perfection, culminating in a transcendent experience that transcends mere timekeeping. In the alchemy of gift-giving, exceptional wall clocks emerge as a symphony of sentiment, transforming ordinary occasions into jubilant celebrations. May this journey of timeless expression and inspired creativity forever grace the halls of your living space, an everlasting testament to the enduring beauty of wall clocks and the luminous bonds they forge.