#merteuils

                                                  @merteuils​​​   sent  ;;   “ come back to sleep. ”

          eyes  shift  across  in  the  barely lit  room--  the  only  light  source  the  crack  in  the  curtains, allowing  early  morning sun  to  seep  through.  lips  lift  at  the  sight  that  greets eyes--  how  beautifully illuminated  mike  is  from  this  angle.  how  you  swoon  and  feel  heart  skip  at  the  sweetness of  it  all.     feet  move  with  ease,  shifting across  the  room,  back  over  toward  the  bed  and  you  move,  kneeling  on  the  bed  before  dropping down,  holding  body  up  over  his.  light  chuckle  escapes as  you  lean  down,  pressing lips  to  his  before  quickly moving  across,  leaving trails  of  kisses all  along  his  face--  cheeks, jawline,  feather  light  touches  left  before  you  pull  back  again  to  smile  down  at  him.  

                                                  @merteuils​​  sent ❄  ;;  for a kiss in the snow 

          walking  the  all  too  familiar  path  down  towards hogsmede  felt  comforting to  harry.  even  with  the  snow  coming down,  with  the  bitter  wind,  he  still  felt  a  lightness  in  his  chest. the  past  four  months  he’d  been  in  his  new  position  as  professor  at  hogwarts  felt  like  a  dream,  and  harry  hadn’t felt  such  a  content  in  a  long  time--  like  things  were  finally  falling into  place  after  over  a  decade  of  searching.  

          that  feeling only  blossomed  as  he  approached the  small  town,  weaving  through the  small  snow  covered  streets until  he  reached the  desired  pub  where--  just  as  planned, draco  was  waiting for  him.  

          it’d  been  just  over  a  month  since  he’d  last  seen  him  and  honestly--  it  was  far  too  long  as  far  as  harry  was  concerned. and  he  felt  overwhelmed  by  the  swell  of  happiness he  felt,  seeing the  blonde  stood  in  the  snow--  coat  and  scarf  pulled  in  close.  

          speeding  up  his  pace,  harry  was  stood  rounding on  draco  and  pulling  his  hands  from  where  they  had  been  stuffed  in  his  pockets-- bringing  them  up  to  grip  at  the  collar  of  his  coat  to  pull  the  other  in  close, lips  just  inches apart.  

                                                @merteuils​  sent  ☔  ;; for  a kiss in the rain

          richie  had  felt  the  tension  in  his  shoulders all  damned  day  now.  he’d  worked  himself into  quite  the  frenzy  really-- parents  driving  him  absolutely  insane, life  just  seeming  to  pile  on  and  on.  he  was  surprised  really, that  he  hadn’t snapped  already.  that  he  hadn’t turned  to  doing  a  line  to  help  take  the  pressure  off.  ESPECIALLY  when  his  parents  dropped the  bomb  that  was  gonna  change  his  whole  life.     moving.  we’re  moving.  

          he’d  finally gotten  the  courage to  text  mike-- to  meet  at  their  usual  spot  in  the  barrens. but  even  as  he  walked there,  even  as  he  knew  he’d  relax  and  feel  comfort  the  moment  he  saw  mike,  he  still  felt  the  tension  tightly held  in  his  entire  body.  

                          the  rain  pouring down  on  him  only  making it  worse.  

          by  the  time  he  reached  their  spot  and  richie  saw  mike  standing there,  waiting  for  him,  he  felt  some  of  the  tension  melt  away.  he  was  beautiful-- so  fucking  beautiful. and  richie  felt  lucky  to  have  him,  to  have  spent  the  past  few  months  in  beautiful  bliss  with  him.  

                          and  god,  did  he  hate  that  he  was  about  to  ruin  it  all.  

                                           @merteuils​​  sent  🌞 ;; for a good morning kiss

          the  feel  of  warmth  against his  back  was  a  welcome wake  up  call,  one  that  had  peter  smiling  softly to  himself  as  he  felt  roman  shifting behind  him--  arm  curling  around his  form  to  pull  him  closer.  from  the  way  he  breathed, peter  knew  the  other  was  still  asleep, and  that  only  made  the  action  all  the  more  fonder.  it  tugged  at  his  heart, and  peter  swore  he  never  knew  more  content  than  in  these  private,  shared moments.  it  made  him  all  the  more  confident  in  his  decision to  practically  move  in  with  roman,  taking him  up  on  the  offer. knowing  he  didn’t have  to  miss  these  moments was  more  than  enough.  

          shifting  on  the  bed,  peter  moved  gently  until  he  was  face  to  face  with  roman--  sighed softly  at  the  sight  of  how  peaceful  and  calm  he  looked  while  he  was  asleep.  and  really,  after  all  they’d been  through  in  the  past  few  years, he  deserved  it.  peter  thought roman  deserved  the  world,  really. especially  given  the  way  he  himself  had  hurt  him.  he’d  do  anything,  and  would  continue to  do  anything, to  make  up  for  all  of  that  mess.  

          leaning  in,  peter  held  his  hands  to  his  chest--  let  his  legs  tangle  further against  roman’s  and  bask  in  that  warmth-- and  pressed  the  softest  of  kisses  to  his  jaw.  lingering  for  a  moment, peter  nuzzled  against his  skin,  sighing softly  as  he  pressed  more  small  kisses there  before  gradually moving  his  way  up.  all  across  roman’s jaw  and  cheekbones, peter  left  the  sweetest  of  kisses--  adoration in  every  motion, what  he  felt  for  roman  swelling  inside of  him,  uncontained, pouring  out  in  each  and  every  kiss  he  left  on  his  skin.  when  he  finally came  to  roman’s lips,  he  took  a  moment, just  taking  him  in,  just  looking  at  his  boyfriend.    his  boyfriend.  sometimes that  fact  still  didn’t  feel  real.  like  he  wasn’t worthy.  but  it  didn’t  stop  him  from  saying  the  words  again  and  again.  

                                                    @merteuils​​​  sent  ;;   “ the war’s not done. ”  

          fingertips  tap,  rhythmic,  steady.  there  is  a  calculation  to  your  actions-- methodical,  something  to  keep  you  focused  because while  your  mind  may  be  healed  (  on  the  road  to  recovery  )  there  is  no  denying  its  frayed  edges. you  have  to  be  careful,  be  good  to  yourself--  something you  haven’t  ever  really  known  in  life.  you  count  the  taps,  keep  yourself focused.  breathe  steady. in.  out.  remind  yourself it’s  okay.  you’re safe  now,  safe  here  and  will  be  for  a  time  yet.  while  you  loathe  not  being  able  to  protect him  anymore-- that  he  has  to  leave  this  place  again  soon-- you  force  yourself to  put  yourself first,  difficult  as  it  may  be.  

The     quiet     night     masks     ominous     intentions     as     Harry     slinks     about     the     castle,     armed     only     with     the     Invisibility     Cloak     bestowed     upon     him     several     years     before     and     his     wand.     The     Cloak     barely     covers     his     ankles     as     he     moves     through     the     castle,     and     Harry     experiences     a     brief     moment     of     nostalgia     (     regret     ?     )     at     the     ways     he’s     used     this     Cloak     in     the     past.     He     notes,     with     a     raise     of     the     eyebrow,     that     his     excursions     have     grown     increasingly     dangerous     over     time. 

𝘨𝘰𝘥,  𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘮-𝘤𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴.  you know,  when there’s a literal decomposing body in the trunk of my car and you say something like smells like love,  or are you stalking me when i’ve conveniently made a facebook, instagram and twitter just to find out a little more.  you seem to be the only person in the whole of LA who doesn’t want the whole world knowing everything about you.

it’s not a crime to want to know more about someone.  and i guess that’s why,  when you saunter out of anavrin in your low-cut blue sundress, i’m hot on your heels in a way where i’m at least three metres behind and walking without so much purpose as a leisurely stroll.  i said i wasn’t going to do this,  and i’m not  —  if you catch me,  and you ask…  well,  i’m getting my steps in:  a very LA response. 

i can’t stop thinking about you.  i can’t stop thinking about pulling you into the nearest alley,  or finding you in the kitchen,  or watching you laugh,  and i just can’t get it out of my head.  you’re married.  you’re  —  Iove quinn,  and your parents are affluent country-clubbers,  and you just look so fucking cute and  —  wait.

                           shit.

                                   where’d you go?

if i didn’t know better,  i’d think you were hiding something.  god,  you make me jump sometimes.  how did you even do that?  never mind.  i’m not about to be caught because you’re in a sundress and i can’t stop fucking thinking about it.