#moots💛

[forzalando]

FOUR oscar fics im about to be soo fed🤭🤭 and ahhh omg, okay. back hugs (from list b) + logan🥺🥺

LILLI my beloved💛 i hope you enjoy, i know the hug prompts weren't sleep related but it's almost bedtime and this is what happened hahaha also this was my interpretation of back hugs, i hope i did it justice! logan sargeant + back hugs and everything in between 500 words, mildly suggestive so 18+

“What are you doing awake so late?”

You quickly lifted your head off of your desk and yawned – awake was a bit of a stretch given that Logan’s voice woke you from accidental slumber, but to Logan if you weren’t in bed and snoring, it was considered awake.

“Trying to finish this report,” you mumbled. “They moved the due date up and I want to be able to travel with you this week.”

“Baby, you know I’d love for you to be there but not at the expense of your health,” he lightly scolded. “There are other races.”

“But it’s your home race,” you whined. “What kind of girlfriend am I if I’m not there to support you?”

“A girlfriend that has her own life and responsibilities that don’t revolve around me and I love you for it. Now, come on, let’s go to bed.”

“Five more minutes?” You pleaded with your best puppy dog eyes and lip jutted out in a pout.

“Absolutely not,” Logan laughed, shaking his head. Within seconds, he had slipped his forearms under your armpits and helped you stand up from the chair.

You expected him to let go, but he moved his arms down and snaked them around your waist, squeezing tightly as he guided you towards your shared bedroom.

It didn’t take long for him to start kissing down your neck, breathing you in and sighing like a lovesick fool at the mixed scent of your body wash and shampoo – so uniquely you, you knew it drove him crazy. He started kissing lower, removing one hand from your waist to pull down the back of your shirt so he could kiss between your shoulder blades.

“Logan,” you sighed, rolling your neck to the side. “Are you trying to get me to go to sleep or jump your bones? Because your actions are firmly indicating the latter.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he coughed, leaving one final, lingering kiss to your pulse point. “You just drive me crazy. No sex, only sleep.”

“You’re no fun,” you pouted. “I’ll remember this, Sargeant.”

He squeezed his arms around your waist one last time, nuzzling his forehead into your back. The softness and closeness of him making you even more tired than you had been – there was something about him that always calmed you down, made you feel safe and warm. Crawling into bed, you immediately turned your back to him, grabbing his arms to wrap them around your waist again. It wasn’t often that you wanted that much contact while you fell asleep – Logan was a furnace and you hated sweating in your sleep, but tonight you longed for as much of him as you could get.

“I love you, don’t ever forget it,” he whispered before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I love you, don’t ever forget it.”

Within moments, you felt your eyes become impossibly heavy, the feeling of Logan’s slow breaths against your neck and his strong arms around your waist lulling you to sleep.

if you'd like to request a short blurb/drabble, please see this post!

[backtodecember-taylorsversion]

sweet pea - what’s your favourite flower?

Ahh,i had a list of them. There were 2 or 3 shortlisted when i was all dreamy at the time of lockdown u see. I do not remember the names now, they are somewhere in notes ap. Wait let me search some up and, Ice Plant(Delosperma)

[good-vs-evo]

oooh thanks for the tag vhas @chrysofightme !! <3

tagging some usuals and also some moots i haven’t rlly interacted w :0 @habizuh-studios @l7k-a @yanweiism @caeprus and anyone else!! no pressure <3

[dont-offend-the-bees]

’Cause You Cut Through All the Noise

Happy Painland Week! Day one is LOVE LANGUAGES! I could've picked touch or gifts or quality time or whatever as my love language but you know what? No. Life-affirming therapeutic domination. Edwin's love language is ordering Charles around. Fight me. Anyway, no smut here, but some steaminess/flirtation/allusions to sex. Some light angst bc Charles starts off in a bit of a spiral, bless his heart. Don't worry, Edwin'll put him right <3 (Quick translation note for any Americans reading: I'm referring to Charles' suspenders in British English, i.e. as braces rather than suspenders. Suspenders for us are generally the little sexy straps for stockings and would instantly up the kinkiness of the scene at least 70% (which I am in favour of, it's just not the fic I'm writing right now lmao)) 5.3k, M-rated, also available on Ao3. Thank you @painlandweek for putting this all together! Enjoy! 💛

Sometimes it seemed that the more Edwin learned, the less he knew. Or rather the more he thought he knew, the more he had left to learn.

Acquiring knowledge on any particular topic, it seemed, was only building the groundwork to question it further. Perhaps that's what an expert was, in the end: not a vast repository of facts, but one skilled in the art of digging for more. Not a pursuer of answers, but a pursuer of more interesting questions. Edwin had found it to be much the same across fields, across all his broad areas of interest and study.

Charles Rowland was one such area of interest.

It was quite astonishing; but thirty years into their partnership, Charles still managed to elude Edwin's understanding. Frequently. He was a lively, complex butterfly who simply would not be pinned (metaphorically, that is. In the more literal sense, he was most certainly not opposed to being pinned by Edwin. But he digressed.) They must have exhausted every conversational avenue two dead boys could traverse by now. How, then, could they persist in finding new things to say to one another? How, despite a mere sixteen years apiece of life before death, could they still find anecdotes unshared, secrets unspoken? Despite knowing Charles better than Edwin knew himself there was always, always more to learn.

And a great deal of learning had been done over the last eighteen months or so, indeed. Since the chaotic inciting incident: the now infamous milestone Case of Crystal Palace. Crystal, in all her messy human glory, had taken a battering ram to their comfortable routine. She'd rather shaken things up in the process — and thus, shaken a fresh slew of secrets from Charles and Edwin both.

Edwin's biggest secret was no longer a secret, of course. It was now common knowledge — though Charles, loyal to the last, hadn't shared it with another soul. He hadn't told anyone of Edwin's confession, nor had any official announcements been made by either of them as the 'situation' developed. But develop it had, in ways difficult to overlook. In touches, in kisses, in soft words and flagrant flirtations. Edwin imagined their friends and colleagues must have put two and two together by now, vis-a-vis Edwin and his feelings for Charles. And if they hadn't... well, it would certainly raise some concerns about the quality of their detective work.

Charles, likewise, had revealed a secret or two. Far less pleasant ones. Secrets that, in his more cynical moments, Edwin wondered if Charles would ever have told him without external pressure. Without Crystal's well-meaning badgering, or the Night Nurse's former villainy. Secrets about his family, his father, himself — or at least his own perception of himself. Harrowing they may be, but Edwin had filed each secret away carefully. Each bitter truth was a new supporting fact, a new data point. A fresh insight that peeled away Charles' brave face, and shone an interrogating light upon decades of behaviour.

Edwin had always known, of course, that Charles was not merely the plucky optimist he purported himself to be. Glimpses under the mask were rare, but inevitable. He'd have been foolish not to notice. But Edwin was not inclined to go picking at scabs. So what if Charles wished to maintain an image of himself? Image was everything; or so Edwin had been raised to believe. How a man chose to present himself to the world spoke volumes. Charles wished to be seen as a positive force, and Edwin had always respected him for that. Loved him, even, though he hadn't known it at the time. Charles' insistence on being a stubborn idealist had awed, amused and frustrated Edwin in almost equal measure. He wouldn't have changed it for the world.

But it was one thing to know that the chipper, animated, relentlessly positive Charles he'd come to know was a crafted image. Finding what lay behind the mask was another. It was a new level of understanding, of intimacy, to finally know the bedrock that lay beneath every too-bright word or action.

Charles Rowland was an inveterate people-pleaser.

In retrospect, of course, it made perfect sense. Edwin had sat with it, applied his new knowledge to a thousand interactions, and found it fitting. It had been a relatively easy fact to accept into his broader understanding of Charles.

The bitterer pill to swallow had been in realising just how often Edwin was, himself, a person Charles felt the need to please at all costs.

Edwin liked to think that their relationship had improved since those various revelations. It had certainly changed in notable ways. Especially since last November. Bonfire night. The night Charles had kissed him under the fireworks and thanked him, sheepishly, for 'waiting for him to get his head out of his arse'.

But the kissing and... other activities weren't the only new additions to their relationship. Moreso than ever before, there were repeat and regular attempts to open the lines of communication. They did not always succeed in those attempts. Charles' fear of rocking the boat and Edwin's discomfort with emotional outpourings were at odds with one another, and often left them at an impasse.

Nevertheless, Edwin was determined to try. Charles deserved nothing less; there had never been a person, alive or dead, more deserving of Edwin's trust. And it was the dearest wish of Edwin's afterlife that he could be the same for Charles. That he could be a person Charles need not perform for, or hide from. That he could be allowed to know Charles, to learn him, inside and out.

And while there was still, undeniably, work to be done, Edwin truly believed progress had been made. Through trial and a considerable amount of error, they had come to... understand certain things about one another. About what they each wanted, what they needed. Edwin was making leaps and bounds in the highly specialised field of Charles Studies.

So when Crystal stormed out of the office after another of her and Edwin's (admittedly rather petty) spats, he knew Charles needed attention before her footsteps had even faded.

"Charles?" Edwin prompted, with caution. He was not always an expert at 'reading the room', but in reading Charles he was growing more fluent by the day.

His dear friend's eyes snapped to him with a hunted look. Just as Edwin had thought they might.

Edwin cleared his throat. "Are you... alright?" he asked.

Charles, in that practised manner of his, plastered on a smile. "Yeah. Yeah, mate." He couldn't seem to look Edwin in the eye. "I'm brills."

Hm. A likely story.

He should have suspected this might happen, in the wake of such a heated disagreement. The very air in the office still seemed to ring with the reverberating slam of the door. An overreaction, really. Even mere minutes later, the whole altercation seemed rather silly. But such things were bound to happen on occasion. Edwin had certain opinions, and no qualms about arguing in their favour — and in Crystal Palace, he'd met his match. The two of them often wound up in the unfortunate scenario of a minor dispute devolving into a full-blown tiff. Such squabbles generally didn't end until someone (Charles) laughed and broke the tension, or someone else stormed off.

Edwin didn't doubt that all would be well shortly enough. If their pattern held, Crystal would come slinking back in a few hours. She and Edwin would exchange either sincere regrets or stilted half-apologies (depending on the severity of the argument). Then they would smooth over any remaining awkwardness by finding something minor to agree on (usually something Charles-related), and go swiftly back to normal.

But that resolution was some time away, yet. And in the meantime the air hung heavy; saturated with ire and discontent. Charles, emotional sponge that he was, was clearly bearing the brunt of it — and, as usual, trying his utmost to 'laugh it off'.

Edwin responded to the blatant fib with a single raised, questioning eyebrow.

Charles flinched as if struck.

Oh, dear. The situation was more dire than Edwin had thought.

“Charles,” said Edwin again, softer this time. It was important not to go on the offensive; in his current condition, Charles was liable to take any careless word as keenly as a knife in the back. “Please tell me what’s on your mind.” After a moment’s consideration, he added: “I promise I won’t be angry.”

It felt like utter nonsense to say out loud, a patronising placation as one might give to a child. But Charles, in Edwin’s experience, responded well to directness. His panic thrived in the mires of ambiguity.

Releasing a ragged breath, Charles rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. “Just… dunno what to do sometimes. When you two go off at each other.” He peered at Edwin with his uncovered eye, and tried for a smirk. It fell short of the carefree, playful expression it was aiming for. “Dunno what side to pick, do I?”

He voiced it like a joke; but Edwin was listening well, and he knew an incomplete sentence when he heard it. He stepped closer and, slowly, giving him time to retreat, took Charles’ free hand and squeezed it.

Charles closed his eyes, dragging his hand down his face. “Can’t keep you both happy,” he admitted on a low mumble, like it was a shameful secret.

Guilt curdled sour and heavy in Edwin’s stomach, but he kept it from his face. Any indication that Charles had made him feel bad was bound to make him shut down further. “It should not be your duty to keep the peace,” he said, choosing his words with care. “I will speak to Crystal later, clear the air.”

Charles nodded, but remained hunched unhappily in on himself. Propped against the edge of the desk as if he needed the support. Edwin could see his brain turning itself over and over in miserable little spirals; wondering if he should have stepped in earlier, said something else. Wondering what he could have done differently to make everything better. To make everyone happy.

Edwin swallowed tightly, and placed his hand upon Charles’ shoulder. “Charles. Look at me, please.”

He did so, without question or hesitation. Responding with ease to the polite command as if it had come from his own subconscious. Quick, and keen. Already Edwin had a strong suspicion of what was needed to calm him; but it was always important to test the waters, first.

Edwin, with great care, hooked a finger through the gold chain around Charles’ neck, and tugged.

The effect was instantaneous. Charles’ wide, fraught eyes softened, slackened, his lined eyelids drooping. His lips parted around a quiet sigh, smoother than his last ragged exhalation. His shoulders slumped as if a great weight had been released from them.

Charles may be an ever-unfolding and expanding area of study. But to Edwin’s expert eye, on occasion, his needs were remarkably simple to interpret.

Meeting his now somewhat unfocused gaze, Edwin leaned in. “Put Crystal out of your mind for now,” he said, a quiet command. “In fact, put everything out of your mind.”

“She’s upset,” Charles mumbled in half-hearted protest.

“Yes — and she will continue to be so for a while longer, regardless of what you or I might say.” Edwin smoothed the collar of Charles’ polo shirt. “When the dust has settled, I will find her and smooth things over. I promise. For the time being, you’ll do none of us any good with your overthinking.”

Charles snorted. “Overthinking? Me?” he joked.

With another gentle, but recriminating tug of the chain, Charles gasped and quieted. Already, his bright eyes were taking on a dreamlike haze.

Edwin sighed and leaned close, ‘til his nose grazed across Charles’ cheekbone. “Granted, your tendency to underthink before making dangerous choices borders on the pathological,” he teased. “But I suspect you’re thinking a lot of very unkind thoughts about yourself right now, and I’d like for you to stop. Please.”

Breath shuddering, Charles’ hands lifted, fisting in the front of Edwin’s waistcoat.

“That what you want?” He asked, his voice a small and broken thing. For all his strength of body and character, he felt as vulnerable in Edwin’s hands as a baby bird.

“How about I tell you exactly what I want for a while,” Edwin offered. “And then all you have to do is listen.“

He delivered a swift, dry kiss to Charles’ cheekbone. "No detective work required.”

It was a very simple solution, albeit one Edwin tried not to employ too often. He and Crystal had a sort of pact in place to discourage Charles' need to please others, rather than lean into it. Within reason, of course — Edwin had no wish to change Charles fundamentally as a person (or to discourage him from doing what felt good to him in intimate settings. If it made Charles feel good to make others feel good, who was Edwin to begrudge him the pleasure?). But they'd agreed that it was probably the healthier option, in the long term. To steer Charles away from hingeing his self-worth on what he could do for others.

But sometimes, the damage was already done. Sometimes Charles was simply too vulnerable to rejection, too stuck in his own head. And on those occasions, Edwin had learned the kindest thing to do was to take him by the hand, and take the guesswork out of the equation.

Charles sniffed. His soft curls tickled Edwin's forehead as he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, alright."

"Good." Edwin gave him another kiss, pressing this one to his temple. Charles melted under his touch, leaning into him, his hands tight and hot on Edwin's chest. "Thank you, dearheart," said Edwin.

Charles shivered. "Fuck me..." he swore, a dazed mumble.

"Hmmm... No, not tonight, I don't think," Edwin quipped — gratified when Charles managed a snort of mirth. Edwin thumbed up under Charles' jaw, finding where the tension still lingered and soothing it out with firm strokes. "I have something better in mind," he said. He released his hold on Charles to roll up in his own shirtsleeves in brisk, meticulous folds.

Charles watched his every motion with a hungry gaze. "Yeah?" he breathed, somewhat stunned; eyes devouring each newly exposed inch of Edwin's skin up to the elbow. He did have a fascination with Edwin's arms; it was a tried and true method of holding his attention.

"Yes." Edwin glanced over Charles' shoulder with a hum, and settled his hands upon Charles' slender waist. "First things first; let's get you sitting comfortably, shall we?"

He braced himself and, with careful exertion, lifted Charles to deposit him in his usual spot on the desk. Charles went without struggle, and with a gasp that morphed swiftly into a groan. His legs flopped open at once, one ankle hooking around Edwin's thigh in invitation. He tugged on Edwin's waistcoat with a soft whine of his name.

Edwin, maintaining his composure admirably, shushed him. He removed Charles' hands from his own chest — though he pressed quick, apologetic kisses to the heels of each. "Later, my love. Now. Where did I put it..."

He patted down his trouser pockets. When that yielded nothing, he sifted through the stationary cup on the desk. He suspected the object he desired might still be in his coat pocket, but he was loathe to step too far from Charles. Luck, however, was on his side. He recovered the coil of string from a box of spellcasting odds and ends with a small sound of triumph.

Charles watched Edwin's hands unwind the string; rapt despite the slight glaze of his eyes. "You gonna tie me up, then?"

Edwin tsk'd. "What a one-track mind you have this evening," he teased. It wasn't a scold. Having Charles focused and fixated on trying to get Edwin into bed was vastly preferable to the jumble of insecurity. "Hold out your hands."

"Sure you're not tying me up?" said Charles, brow furrowing as he lifted his hands — palms up, beautifully willing.

"I suppose that depends on your definition," said Edwin, as he tied the ends of the string together to form a wide loop. He nudged Charles' hands into place, about a foot apart with palms turned inwards, and draped the loop over them.

Charles, through the haze, finally twigged. "Cat's cradle?" he said, with a slight chuckle.

"Do you object?" asked Edwin.

"Why'd you wanna do this?"

"Because I like playing games with you." Edwin directed Charles to rotate his wrists, winding the string into loops around his hands. He indulged in a gentle touch as he did so, tracing his thumbs along the creases of Charles' skin. The smooth stretch where once a 'life line' would have resided. Edwin had not set much stock by the art of palmistry, until he'd discovered that little commonality between he and Charles. "Again, please. One more loop."

Charles didn't argue — of course he didn't. Edwin doubted he currently had the capacity to argue; so deep had he already descended into that quiet space in his head. The one he occupied only in their moments of deepest intimacy, when Edwin took charge, took him in hand. His eyes, such quick and clever things, now gazed down at Edwin hooded and glassy. Perfect, still pools of pleasantly addled warmth. He'd sunk so readily, so splendidly, all but curled up in the palm of Edwin's hand.

Edwin watched him a moment before proceeding, soothing the ragged edges of his own Hell-torn soul. Whatever he'd done in life to earn the trust Charles placed in him, it must have be something very good indeed.

In next to no time, they had the string pulled taut between Charles' hands, forming the neat double cross of the eponymous Cat's Cradle. Edwin hummed in approval. "Well done," he praised, as he pinched the crossed strands and pulled them outwards. "And now to me. Soldier's Bed, please."

Though Charles appeared to be away with the fairies, he was attuned to Edwin's voice and acquiesced to his command with ease. This was a game they had played many times, on long and quiet nights. When they'd had nothing to hand but an old bootlace, and nothing they wished to do but keep each other's company. Charles didn't need to strain to recall how to release the strings into Edwin's hold. Or how to begin forming the next shape after that, his confident fingers pinching and tugging the relevant strands.

Peaceful and methodical, they worked together, shape by shape, hand to hand. When Charles was pulling the strings for Edwin he was focused, intent, a little wrinkle in his brow. Once or twice his tongue darted out, bitten between his teeth in concentration, and Edwin resisted the impulse to distract him with a kiss. When Charles was merely holding the strings he subsided into utter relaxation. Breathing slow, eyes closed or halfway there, watching Edwin's face and hands with hazy satisfaction. Occasionally he dropped a thread, but it was never a serious blunder, and Edwin got them back on track with a polite command to pick it up. In a customary game they'd have to restart, but this was no customary game. Now was not the time to dwell upon harmless mistakes.

The game served as Edwin had hoped it would. After a few rounds of he and Charles working in perfect tandem, he could feel the air had settled and Charles with it. The grounding touches of their fingers and the face-to-face contact couldn't have hurt. Edwin had fallen into a rhythm, politely requesting each new shape by name and praising the end result. Charles had likewise fallen into a rhythm of mellow compliance. As the rounds wore on he even offered the odd cheeky verbal acknowledgement of Edwin's commands. A 'comin' right up' here, an 'on it, boss' there. His voice was thick and sweet, his tongue succumbing to the same submissive, slumberous spell as his mind. But a little of his bright, energetic spark was creeping back beneath the haze.

By the time they'd worked through the established shapes, and exhausted their own catalogue of invented ones, Edwin was satisfied. He felt they'd left the storm behind and sailed into calmer waters.

"Good game, Charles," he said, as he took their last custom shape — the aptly named Nail in the Coffin — into his own hands, and unraveled it. "Thank you."

Charles hummed, drowsy, swaying a little where he sat. "What'chu wanna do now?" he asked, dark, glassy eyes intent on Edwin's face. Like it was the most important question in the world.

He looked so lovely like this. Of course he always looked lovely, as handsome a boy as Edwin had ever seen. But like this especially, so far gone in his peace and pleasure, there was nothing to compare. Warm and golden, soft and tousled; his eyes black and bottomless and only for Edwin. Gazing at him as if he'd hung the moon and the stars.

Edwin faltered, a small gasp catching in his throat. He remained adamant that he wouldn't take more than Charles should give, at this moment. But... perhaps a small indulgence.

"Kiss me," he said, tucking a finger beneath Charles' chin. "Please."

Charles nodded — a hasty gesture compared to his otherwise lethargic motions — and swayed forward. He crashed his lips against Edwin's in an artless kiss, his hands finding Edwin's waist and gripping tight. Like he couldn't get him close enough.

Edwin sighed into it, stepping into Charles. Into the comfortable vee of his sprawled legs, where he'd come to spend many a peaceful night of late. He tilted his head, guiding Charles into a gentler kiss. Leading him as he would in a dance and letting him fall, gratefully, into step. Edwin explored the curve of Charles' jaw with his fingers, the charmingly pointed shell of his ear. He thumbed across his sparkly earring, and Charles huffed a little laugh into his mouth.

"Magpie," he mumbled.

Edwin chuckled as well, a natural release of the warmth suffusing him. He broke the kiss to dust smaller, feather-light ones across Charles' cheeks. "Well," he said, a thumb pressed to Charles' plush lower lip. "I do seem to collect the most beautiful things..."

Breath hitching, Charles wrapped his arms around Edwin's shoulders and squeezed. Edwin returned the embrace without hesitation. Never before Charles had he felt at ease with this sort of thing — this effusive, uncurbed physical affection. With anyone else it was still a struggle. He had little desire to touch, or be touched. But inviting Charles into his embrace was never a hardship; it was simply his proper place. It was a fact of the universe: Charles belonged with Edwin. In his arms, on his desk, in his bed, on his nerves.

Charles belonged with Edwin, as Edwin belonged with Charles; holding his hand, steering him true. And, where necessary, using a firm word and a firmer hold to put those wretched doubts in his head to rest.

Edwin pulled away with a parting kiss to Charles' temple. Charles felt warm, in that strange, prickly way. Ghostly body heat wasn't so much a thrum of blood as an excitation of atoms. To Edwin's mind, he felt warmer than usual at present. "Are you hot?" he asked.

"Dunno," said Charles with a lax, flirtatious smile. "Am I?"

Edwin rolled his eyes. "In the non-figurative sense, please, Charles."

"Mm. Yeah, bit hot." The smile widened into an impish grin. "Or maybe that's just you."

"You're incorrigible," Edwin muttered — but there was a smile in his voice and likely on his face, as well. His own cheeks were beginning to feel rather warm. He cleared his throat and tugged, meaningfully, on one of Charles' braces. There was a tantalising give and take to the elastic as his fingers slipped behind it. He was half tempted to release it, let it ping back, see what sound Charles made at the slight shock. But now wasn't the time for that sort of play.

"You may remove a layer, if you like," Edwin offered magnanimously — no ulterior motive whatsoever. "I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable."

Charles didn't need telling twice. He slid the braces off his shoulders and grabbed his polo shirt at the back of the neck, dragging it off over his head. It was altogether a clumsier attempt than his usual so-called 'strip teases', but his hooded eyes burned on Edwin's face throughout. Afterwards he was left in just his sinfully tight white vest — and, of course, the enticing glimmer of his golden chain on top. But he remained pleasantly flushed and glowing, with not a hint of cold or discomfort. Charles was prone to chills in times of stress; a morbid sense memory of his last night alive. But he always seemed to warm in Edwin's presence.

Edwin, with an exhale that was just a tad on the ragged side, bowed his head and grazed a kiss across Charles' exposed collarbone. "Better?"

He could feel Charles' soft groan ruffling his hair. "Yeah. Yeah, feels good." He pulled on the hem of Edwin's waistcoat. "Bet you're hot too, yeah?"

Increasingly so, yes. Edwin was clinging to his composure by a thread. "It is a touch close in here," he agreed. He could feel Charles' restless fingers tugging, so he took them in his own hands, and guided them to the top button of the waistcoat. It was only fair he restore the balance. "Would you be so kind?"

Charles groaned again, this time so close to Edwin's ear it sent a ripple down his spine, and obeyed. His hands, as was often the case when disrobing Edwin, tripped over the buttons, rendered all fingers and thumbs in his eagerness. But they were in no hurry. Edwin closed his eyes and waited, tucked into the crook of Charles' neck and perfectly satisfied to be so.

When the final button surrendered the fight, Charles made haste to shove the garment off Edwin's shoulders. Edwin corrected him with a polite "Gently, please," and Charles took it in more careful hands, mindful of causing wrinkles. It made no difference, of course — Edwin could will his clothes to look as pristine or rumpled as he pleased. But Charles shuddered sweetly at the direction, and Edwin so enjoyed directing him. Besides, there was never any harm in promoting good habits.

"Fold it, please," said Edwin — stepping back to give Charles space. He watched Charles take the waistcoat in hand and, inexpertly, fold it in half twice. Lengthwise first, then the opposite. Hardly proper protocol, but Edwin didn't much care. He just took the haphazardly folded garment with gratitude and set it aside on the desk. "Thank you."

"Anything else?" Charles mumbled — his fingers teasing Edwin's shirt, itching to tug it free of his waistband.

Edwin sighed, and stilled Charles' hands. Perhaps he was letting the situation get away from them a bit. Charles was quite the difficult temptation to resist. "Perhaps later," he said. At Charles' disappointed pout, he made an amendment. "Definitely later."

Charles snorted, and let his head flop against Edwin's chest. "Alright," he mumbled. He sounded tired. Overwhelmed. It was a lot for him, this complete surrender, and Edwin well knew it. "Whatever you say, love."

"I say it's time for a rest." Edwin took Charles' face in both his hands, holding him still as he bestowed one more kiss upon his forehead. "Go and sit down, please. Comfortably, on the sofa. I'll join you momentarily."

Charles grumbled, but nevertheless did as he was told. He hopped off the desk, hand trailing across Edwin's chest as he passed him by. Edwin caught it for the barest second, just to give his fingers a parting squeeze. An altogether impossible urge to resist; and the loving way Charles' eyes found him over his shoulder affirmed his decision.

Tearing his attention from Charles and his smiles and his soft, trusting eyes, he turned it to the bookcase instead. He knew exactly what he wished to do with Charles, now. Something they'd had neither the space nor quiet for in quite some time. He scanned the shelves, deep in thought.

"Charles," he called out, careful not to cut too sharply through the peace of the room. "Douglas Adams, or Sir Arthur?"

It was a gentle prompt, and a simple choice. The stakes couldn't be lower. He waited to see if Charles would hand it back to him, anyway — still unwilling and unable to bear the thought of making an incorrect decision.

"Mmm... Doug," Charles mumbled.

Edwin smiled to himself. On the mend, then. "Excellent choice," he said; sliding their well-loved second edition of Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency from the shelf.

He turned on his heel to find Charles, folded onto the sofa in a loose tangle of limbs, chin on his fist. He bore sleepy, squinting eyes and a dopey smile, both directed at Edwin and warming him through like late afternoon sunlight.

"Like how it sounds in your voice," said Charles, nestling in further. The very picture of contentment. Seemed he could scarcely keep his eyes open; but he must not have wanted to look away from Edwin just yet.

Edwin could sympathise entirely; he rarely wished to look away from Charles, either.

Edwin smiled as he stepped in close, a hand on Charles' knee; a smiling kiss dropped to his head of rampant curls. "Quiet, now, darling boy," he softly commanded, tugging on Charles' knee to make room. "And enjoy yourself."

~

“How long did the Monk believe these things? Well, as far as the Monk was concerned, forever,” Edwin read, his thumb tracing circles on Charles’ wrist. “The faith which moves mountains, or at least believes them against all the available evidence to be pink, was a solid and abiding faith, a great rock against which the world could hurl whatever it would, yet it would not be shaken. In practice, the horse knew, twenty-four hours was usually about its lot.”

They were a scant few pages into the book, and yet Edwin suspected that Charles had drifted into a doze. It was hard to tell without facing him. They'd settled on the sofa with Charles tucked up against the arm and back, and Edwin reclining between his sprawled legs. Edwin's back pillowed on Charles' torso; Charles' arms wrapped around Edwin, like a large teddy bear. Edwin could feel Charles' chin propped atop his head. On occasion, he nuzzled into Edwin's hair with soft hums as he listened to the story. But the hums and nuzzles both had grown less frequent already, subsiding to near silence.

Edwin read on regardless. Charles, like all ghosts, rarely if ever actually slept, and was likely still listening. Even if his mind was wondering elsewhere for the time being, he'd find his way back. He always did. And Edwin would be waiting for him.

A few chapters later, as Edwin recounted the thrilling mystery of the horse in the water closet, he felt Charles stirring. Soon, Charles' wrist was slipping free from Edwin's grasp, the hand coming to rest instead atop Edwin's hand in a gentle hold.

"Thank you," Charles mumbled, nuzzling into Edwin's hair.

Edwin smiled. "There's no need to thank me for reading to you," he said. "I enjoy it."

"I meant, like..." Charles sighed, squeezing Edwin's hand. "Thanks for, y'know. Bossing me around a bit," he said, sincerity threaded through the lighthearted tease. "Seriously. It proper helps."

Edwin laced their fingers, and brought Charles' hand to his lips. "Charles," he said, simple and serious. He kissed him on the knuckles. "I shall always be here to boss you around when needed."

Charles laughed. Quiet, unobtrusive. It seemed neither one of them was quite ready to break the spell just yet. "Love you," he murmured.

Marking his page with a finger, Edwin leaned back onto Charles' shoulder. He tilted his head back, all the better to look his beloved in the eye. "I love you, too."

He only had to lift his lips, a silent prompt.

Charles needed no further instructions.

~~

Thanks for reading! Consider dropping us a comment/reblog, they do so make my day/week/month 💛 Might not manage every day of this week but I will defo see you tomorrow for a fic/collab I'm SUPER excited about!!! Painland Week Prompt List

[theghoulboysblog]

I’m seeing a lot of mixed opinions on the new Watcher announcement so i just want to say that however you feel about it is justified! :) Your emotions are yours and you can feel them in whatever way comes to you! 💛

No matter your stance, it has been a very stressful day for all the Watcher fandom with a LOT of arguing and negativity so try to tell a Watcherina mutual you love them today! :) Send virtual hugs, send love, send messages! :) We are all just people at the end of the day dealing with a large fandom event like this one, and if you can make that stress better for anyone, that’s literally so awesome. Love y’all! :)

[somehhuuuhh]

Errorberry requested by @inkcat1987 yayayayay I do think Errorberry is a great ship but i can only think about angsty situation. Like when Error leave Blue in the void or making Blue watch Error killing his brother but BUT it can be wholesome.....sometimes...

I give this ship 7/10

A redraw from this drawing

Art by @/loverofpiggies

[maehemthemisfit]

imagine scaramouche if hoyoverse was actually brave enough to give him ball joints like an actual doll, and him asking you to take parts of him off and clean them out for him <3 i dont know what possessed me i am not and will never be an x reader writer but you are my close friend so i will always give you ideas

oh my god fitz stop reading my mind !

yk i was actually thinking about a fic where albedo encounters a humanoid golem reader (not like a ruin guard but something similar to the spirit from Somali and the Forest Spirit) with bandages to hold them together and a heart that runs on elemental energy and such (which they can run out of and die) and albedo helps them before they perished and puts them back together (albeit their limbs tend to fall off often but they'll just shove it back on if it isnt badly damaged)

it was a pretty interesting concept to me but now im starting to see the similarities between that and scara. Imagine he has his moments where his limbs slip off or his joints sometimes lock in place or twist the wrong way. Or scara being insecure about his ball joints and covering them up with bandages and stuff!!

He doesn't like being dependent on people but he's thankful that albedo/reader helps him out with these things (even though he tends to never verbalize it)

I also think it'll be interesting if he messes up doing a lot of things because of his puppet aspects. Imagine he's really clumsy. We know scara wants to prove his worth and be useful, and never be indebted to another person so imagine his frustrations when he's trying to cook and his hand falls off while he's mixing something.

It can be a LONG process so he very much needs to be praised for the things he do, because he struggled a lot with it.

I also see albedo making prototype limbs for him to try on skdujrmjf

thank you for feeding my writer brain <33

apparently he did have puppet strings and ball joints but i think they faded away during his time in Inazuma. I could be wrong tho

[madelynraemunson]

Eddie’s not dead

Eddie’s not dead

EDDIES NOT DEAD?!

[bobeaubow]

ermm what the flip guys,,

AAHWIEOQJVSDIOWKWIWOQNWOWJJSJEOEKWBDIAIKAQLQOWBDDIWKWBDISKWVAUKRJOWOWQIDGWIS8Z IQJWWBBEKSKoaowjwbqkaoaoOWJ2IWHHQIISBW8W I BAHSIKKA

IWOKSJSJSISJSJSSKWWKWJAISOWJJSJQIAJSUSBWIWJEBSUUGW U

[imnotskyguy-remake]

The last text you sent is what your last words will be

What are they?

Mine are: But I'll take you to the underworld insteaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaadddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd" which is actually quite fitting.

@sombrathedragon @yellow-computer-mouse @ham-cheese-toastie

@mythos321 @wolfdog-weatherman

[forzalando]

💛 hi 🥹 CONGRATS ON 3K THAT'S HUUUUUGE !!!!

I am obsessed with this idea and also my favourite activity (as of recently lmao) is drunk karaoke and of COURSE my dream would be to do it with lando !!!!

drunk karaoke with Lando would, and i'm not exaggerating, mean everything to me. i am in love with just the idea of this.

thank you for supporting me through the many phases of this blog and for entertaining my every thought/idea. adore you, mel💛 i hope you enjoy this blurb that was meant to be 300-400 words but ended up being 800+ lol

celebration post: here

Drunk Karaoke with Lando Norris under the cut😊

You quickly downed the shot thrust into your hand – sambuca, which meant it absolutely came from Lando since he was the only one who knew of your preference.  

He was on your left, sweaty and somehow wide awake despite the fact you’d been out for hours. Oscar was on your right, slowly swaying to the music with his eyes half shut. Somewhere across the club Charles and Pierre were dancing on an elevated surface while George videotaped them like a suburban soccer mom at her son’s first game. Here in Monaco, everyone partied post-race as if they themselves had made it to the top step over the weekend.

Out of nowhere, Lando fell into you as he shouted in your ear – “Do you know what I’ve always wanted to do?”

Oscar caught you before you could topple over, steadying you on your feet before shooting Lando a dirty look.

“Sorry, sorry,” Lando giggled. He centered himself and then put his hands on your shoulders, looking the most serious you’d ever seen him. “Anyway, do you know what I’ve always wanted to do?”

“Win at Silverstone? Become world champion?”

“Well, yes, but think smaller, you lunatic. Something I could do right now.”

“Out drink Max?”

“What? No, I don’t care about outdrinking Max, where did that come from?”

“Well, I just thought since he usually wins every race that you’d want to beat him at something – ”

“Oh my god, you’re impossible,” Oscar interjected. “He wants to do drunk karaoke. When we went out in Miami he was practically on his knees begging me to sing with him.”

A giant grin spread across your face as you playfully swatted Lando’s chest.

“Why didn’t you just say so? I happen to be an excellent karaoke partner,” you boasted.

Lando clapped his hands and jumped around like a toddler at your remark – “So, you’ll do it with me?”

Instead of answering, you snatched his hand and pulled him through the club at an impressive speed. You weren’t in a karaoke bar, quite far from it, but you planted yourself in front of the DJ booth and gestured to Lando. Security immediately pulled you both into the booth, perks of having Lando at your side, and the DJ of the night asked what she could do for you.

“Hi! Lando Norris wants to do drunk karaoke and I’m trusting that you can make that happen. It’s very important to him,” you professed.

“I think I might have a couple instrumentals or could make some magic happen. Any specific requests? You won’t have any lyrics on screen, though. And you’ll have to share a mic.”

Before you could ask what your options were, Lando was shouting, once again, in your ear.

“DO YOU HAVE THE SPICE GIRLS? THAT ONE SPICE GIRLS SONG?”

“Lando, we won’t have the lyrics,” you reminded him.

“I don’t need them,” he declared, crossing his arms with attitude. “Maybe you need them, fake fan.”

“I most certainly do not,” you yelled back to Lando. “DJ, roll the track. Pretty please. You're amazing."

She chuckled and handed you the singular mic, Lando immediately snatching it from your hands.

“It’s my dream, I get to hold the mic.”

You rolled your eyes and fought back a smile, stepping into his side as he threw an arm around you.

The deafening bass from the speakers grew quiet as the DJ addressed the crowd of people – “we’ve got a special surprise tonight! These two lovely friends of mine up here are going to perform a special number for everyone. Please welcome – ”

She paused, waiting for you and Lando to introduce yourselves.

“LANDO NORRIS AND Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Please welcome Lando Norris and Y/N Y/L/N to my booth. Show them some love!”

The clapping and cheering brought the volume in the club back to an obscene level – the loudest cheers coming from a VIP table not far from the booth where all of your friends had gathered.

Before you had a chance to feel the slightest bit self-conscious, the infamous laugh rang through the speakers and Lando was scream-singing into the mic.

 “YO, I’LL YOU WHAT I WANT, WHAT I REALLY, REALLY WANT!”

The two of you in perfect sync, passing lines back and forth, singing (if you could call it that) in unison during the chorus. You could have sworn you heard George shout out that this was “his song” and Max was most definitely telling anyone who would listen that he personally knows Ginger Spice.  

You tore your eyes from the audience to look at Lando – the smile on his face rivaling the brightest sunny day. With his arm around you, squeezing you to his side, your closest friends cheering for you, your heart was sure to burst from happiness. There was no place you’d rather be in that moment than making a drunken fool of yourself with the most important person in your life by your side.

And if Lando was thinking the same thing, about how he was happier in that moment than he’d ever been, podiums and race win included, he’d keep that to himself for just a minute more.

[simplysummers]

For the ship ask: Kurtbastian >:) (it would feel illegally not to send you this)

Megstie yes I will (finally) do this!!!!

Who accidentally pushes a door instead of pulling/vice versa?

Both ✨ Kurt when he’s flustered and Sebastian when he thinks he’s being cool and sultry and then he just goes 👏 smack into a door.

Who doodles little hearts all over the desk with their initials inside them?

Probably Kurt overall, but then he’d look down at his notebook in horror like 🫣😫

Who starts the tickle fights?

Sebastian 10000%

Who starts the pillow fights?

Also Sebastian but could be Kurt sometimes.

Who falls asleep last, watching the other with a small affectionate smile?

Could be either but it’s definitely more likely to be Seb, especially because he’s so private about his real romantic feelings.

Who mistakes salt for sugar?

Sebastian absolutely.

Who lets the microwave play the loud beeping sound at 1am?

Sebastian because he’s an insensitive little prick ❤️

Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines?

Sebastian ‘did you break too many hearts to stay?’ Smythe.

Who rearranges the bookshelf in alphabetical order?

I actually think it could be either, maybe something they do together. Kurt is a perfectionist and Seb comes from an academic family.

Who licks the spoon when they're baking brownies?

Seb gets the spoon, but sometimes if Kurt is missing his mom, Seb will let him have the spoon.

Who buys candles for dinners even though there's no special occasion?

Seb buys them because he knows Kurt likes them.

Who draws little tattoos on the other with a pen?

Oh Sebastian absolutely. And Kurt goes mad cause he’s like “you’re ruining my look!!!” And Seb just doesn’t care.

Who comes home with a new souvenir magnet every time they go on vacation?

Kurt. Seb travelled a lot as a child so he’s indifferent to cheap trinkets.

Who convinces the other to fill out those couple surveys in the back of magazines?

Absolutely Kurt. Seb pretends he doesn’t take it seriously but he totally does.

[maehemthemisfit]

imagine cafe au! kazuha where he works behind the counter and notices you working at an empty table. he secretly gives you a cake on the house, and a napkin with his number written on it 🍰🌸

i cant stop thinking about how nice it’d be to recieve free drinks from him ❤️❤️

Oh my god this is melting my heart

But wait hear me out, what if, what if, WHAT IF !!!

you briefly stop by just to pick up a drink (you ordered online beforehand to skip the line), and while kazuha's to the side making your order he sees you and immediately wants to get to know you more... but he's on the clock so the best thing he can think of is writing a little message for you on the cup after he writes your name, and you only notice it after you get home.

It's so silly but just think about you using the order app to communicate to him through the receipts (yk the options where you customize your order- something like that idk how it works but you make it work!)

And every time you stop by he leaves you a message and you guys play 20 questions over cups and receipts ( his co-workers tease him so much about it or just roll their eyes when they hand him the message - scara fr )

im sorry i just love slow burns shfedksdhf

yall eventually get each other's numbers and you really get to know the man who's been paying for your drinks and writing poetry about you on your cups.

.° ୭ ៳ Genshin Drabble Masterlist・✩

[theghoulboysblog]

isn’t it actually insane how the things people say stick with you forever? like, you would not think that words mean as much as they do.

i was once told by one of my long time friends that she would prefer me to talk too much than not at all and whenever i’m insecure about how much i’m talking, i think about that.

i was once told by a friend that my personality was so sweet i was personally gonna have them in dentures and that i show people love and kindness they often lack in day to day life and i don’t think there has been a single day where i haven’t thought about those sentences. and the fact that those words were said by a person i think so highly of, who has influenced my life so much? insane.

one of my friends once said i had so much love in my little heart and that i was a gem of a human and everytime i am sad i remind myself of that and smile. what high praise from one of the nicest, kindest people i’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing and loving.

one of my friends once asked why i have the kindest soul ever and when i feel like a failure i think “well, at least one of the most lovely, loving, friendly people i know thinks i am kind and that is the greatest thing ever.”

i don’t mean to be a sappy loser on main here but wow :,)

[littlexdeaths]

please since you’ve mentioned stage tech eddie, this gave me eddie vibes

OH MY GOD 😵‍💫😵‍💫

THE BANDANA ??

THE BEEFY ARMS??

i’m going to chew through my arm HES SO HOT

but now my thoughts are spiraling into stage crew eddie that works for popstar or rockstar reader’s band 👀

i need him glistening and sweaty from being in the sun and moving sound equipment all day 😮‍💨

[forzalando]

can i kiss you - oscar piastri x f!reader is calling my name i must hear more about it!! 🤭

another fic i love ugh i keep writing fics based off of life experiences LMAO this guy i liked in college - the first time he kissed me, he asked if he could. and all my friends thought it was so weird/said it would ruin the mood for them but i thought it was lowkey hot, consent king!! i think about it a lot bc #touch starved, hope he’s doing well🫶🏼

so i rannnnn with that line “can i kiss you?” and the fic is kind of a glimpse into reader x oscar’s relationship, i’ve written a bunch of different scenarios and i’m thinking of turning it into one of those 5 + 1 fics (5 times oscar asks to kiss you + the 1 time you ask him) or maybe just a collection of moments IDKKKKK but either way i just wanted cute relationship moments and it all stemmed from me being like “you know what. oscar would ask to kiss you the first time.”😊