#translcnt

q.   what  does  the  early  mornings  taste  of?   a.   leftover  brownie  mixture  swept  clean  from  a  bowl,   her  finger  propped  into  her  mouth  as  the  two  lazily  move  around  the  kitchen       (       louis  as  warmth  incarnate  as  he  cleans  up  pots,   hands  below  water,   a  ring  hidden  away  there       )       ---      this  scene  has  happened  to  you  before,   coloured  by  elijah’s  cold  hands       [      a  lifetime  spent  in  blues!     ].     and  that  thought  should  capture  your  heart  in  its  open  palm  and  squeeze  enough  to  hurt,    but  your  mind  catches  you  first   :      THIS  IS  LOUIS,    SIMPLY  LOUIS.    awash  with  a  white  -  glow  in  his  boxers,    shirt  worn  around  shoulders  as  he  drains  the  sink.    she’s  propped  against  the  counter  as  he  slides  closer,   her  arms  finding  his  shoulders,    her  hand  lacing  in  his  hair       (     HOME  SMELLS  LIKE  THIS,    DOESN’T  IT?       ).      she  scratches  lightly  at  his  scalp,    guides  his  sleepy  -  tinged  head  to  her  shoulder.     ‘     wanna  guess  what  i  just  ate?   starts  with  a  b.     ‘

Man From u.n.c.l.e Sentence Starters! - ACCEPTING

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She was, wasn't she? The realisation did very little to ease said tremble, and, if anything, it only grew WORSE; thick swallow accompanied shallow inhale, and June found herself attempting a small step back.

Why was she trembling? It wasn't FEAR, was it? No. Surely not. The alternative wasn't as desirable and, honestly, she didn't know which was worse. Fucking hell, she was becoming a MESS.

Random Asks! - ALWAYS ACCEPTING

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Jett... I promised myself I wouldn't cry BUT!!

This means so much to me, and call me selfish but I needed this. Seriously, I am kinda struggling with this thought lately and this?? From YOU, you magnificent bastard?? Eases my anxiety so fucking much??

       events like this, after a while, start feeling like she’s rotting from the inside out. it happens slowly, she is at first unaware, until acid reflux is burning her throat and she starts to wonder whether it’s even plausible for a superhero to get an ulcer. every time she finds a way to sneak out: sometime after the moment all spotlights turn to homelander and right before some off-handed and improbable black noir / deep banter shifts the focus again. maeve grabs a glass off a waiter’s tray — stops, then takes two — and slips through a wave of heartfelt smiles and gestured greetings, and the thought plays over and over in her head: i need to throw up. i wanna throw up. i need to throw up. instead she slips through a window, onto a balcony, and downs the first glass before both steps are out the threshold, then stops dead in her tracks when she sees translucent is there, too. “ fuck. ” the curse caught under her breath, just not enough for it to be unheard. maeve sighs, rubs her forehead. at least this is not the restroom. at least he’s not naked. “ —— can’t help being a creep, can you ? ”

she’s  exasperated  ,  clearly  ,  tired  of  hearing  why  she  should  stay  under  he  radar  .  a  glare  is  shot  in  louis’  direction  ,  mindy  promptly  slumping  down  in  her  seat  .  she  crosses  her  arms  over  her  chest  ,  defeated  .

❝  okay  ,  shut  up  !  ❞