#blush Tumblr posts

  • lumity-rights
    03.08.2021 - 20 minutes ago
    #honestly she probably WAS lmao #the mental image is hilarious to me #she’s sitting at her window blushing and brooding and then hooty just taps on the glass before……yknow. trauma. #the owl house #my asks
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  • aganyan
    03.08.2021 - 44 minutes ago

    {It's okay just... keep it together}

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  • axysbbygurl
    03.08.2021 - 1 hour ago
    #that smile #my cheeks hurt from blushing so hard #why is he so damn cute #and hot as fuck #god let us never forget that #it feels weird queuing this stuff when they're on tour rn and we got new content #but im mostly doing this to fill space in between those pics #dont worry y'all your gurl's gonna keep the latest stuff coming in hotter than your grandma's chicken pot pie i promise #LoL fuck that #axl rose #w axl rose #current axl #guns n roses #this i queue #queue
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  • venln
    03.08.2021 - 1 hour ago

    My brain is mush

    #yeah. #anyways. #my art#twilight #to be clear they both have had top surgery and Edward is on T but they like to mix it up and wear bikinis sometimes #also since the whole ‘vampires don’t have blood’ or whatever I decided to make edwards blush purple? idk thot it would be cute #they’re t4t nonbinary. so I guess. nonb4nonb? #whatever
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  • spencerreidscoffeecup
    03.08.2021 - 1 hour ago
    #I AM BLUSHING #I LOVE U
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  • voiidsalts
    03.08.2021 - 1 hour ago

    time for some Quyance sketches <3

    #tes #the elder scrolls #elder scrolls#skyrim #elder scrolls oc #my art#sketch#oc art#my ocs#quyance#art: quyance#quyance (human)#argonian#argonian oc #quyance my beloved #can argonians actually blush? #idk but we're gonna pretend they can gnjkfml
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  • quadraphonictypewriter
    03.08.2021 - 2 hours ago

    So I know it's been a whole two months since my last Rory fic, but this one is literally long as fuck (think "9600 words" long). This might read better with the context of December 1973 (and if you'd like, I've also got October 1984)

    Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it!!

    Two things I'd like to mention off the bat: there might be some typos in here but i literally can't look at my computer screen for another minute or i'll scream. and a big thank you to Skylar and Rain for their "here's a snippet, what do ya think?" responses. i feel like there's a third thing i'm forgetting,, i'll add it if i remember

    Also, please note that this piece is Not Safe For Work and really, not safe for anywhere that isn't your bedroom lol. You'll need some tissues for your eyes and maybe a towel too idk,, I am not responsible for any damage to bed sheets caused by this fic

    The Gift and The Present

    Sunday October 27th, 1974. Paris, France.

    ~R~

    As much as Rory didn't want to admit it— to himself and to Dónal, who'd pried him with questions nearly all morning— he was thrilled to be in Paris again. Last time, in May, it had only been a quick stop to record a radio show and then off to the south of France; he hadn't had a chance to see Amber since last December.

    He and the band had played two songs for a television show yesterday but was frustrated that he hadn’t been able to call Amber in time to invite her to the taping. Rory had spoken to her on the phone last week and told her to clear her Sunday and Monday schedules— he missed her terribly, and wanted to spend time with her.

    ‘Nothing's guaranteed. It’s been nearly a year,’ Rory reminded himself, wondering how foolish he was being. It would be a lie to say he hadn’t thought about her often in that time. If he’d asked himself once if she still had feelings for him, then he had asked himself a thousand times.

    Still, Amber had sounded glad when he’d rang her number at home just before eleven, only a few hours ago.

    “I’m happy you got to town safe, Rory,” she had said to him on the phone. “Did you still want to check out the new Scotsman’s Pub?”

    “We could, if you’d still like to.” Rory would have gone to any restaurant, as long as it’d be a meal with her. “What time do you want me to pick you up?”

    Amber’s sigh made his stomach churn with worry. “Jack strong-armed me into working today. Not for long,” she added in a rush. “It’s just to wait around and answer one phone call, but she should call by two o’clock.”

    “I’ll come by your office, then. What time do you want me there?”

    Would there be hesitancy when they greeted each other? Had Amber pushed aside and forgotten that December night, and be upset with him for bringing it up, if he even would?

    “There’s no use worrying about it any longer,” Rory grumbled to himself. He’d arrived at the address of J. Coulomb et Associés, its street-level door placed between a barbershop and a bookstore. He took a deep breath to steady himself before walking in and climbing the flight of stairs. Another door, though locked, was at the top, so Rory rang the bell.

    The returning buzz sounded within seconds, allowing him to open the door and enter the office. Right away he noticed the subtle hints of Amber’s presence: a paperback with a bookmark sticking out, a potted plant on the windowsill and a bunch of ferns in a vase, and the light smell of the citrus perfume she sometimes wore.

    ~A~

    “Will she ever call?” Amber groaned. It would have been just perfect if she could meet Rory at the door with news that the phone call had been taken care of, but the odds of that happening didn’t look good.

    To avoid the annoyance growing in her chest, Amber glanced around the office to make sure it was tidy. Her small office was as neat as it would get, so she ventured into the main area next. With her cousin gone for a five-day holiday, Amber had been left to run the accounting firm with his business partner. Stéphane didn’t enjoy women in the workplace unless they were secretaries, but Amber’s familial relationship with Jack was enough that he kept his disgruntled comments to himself.

    A nagging thought crossed her mind when she caught sight of herself in the mirror by the door. ‘Do I look alright?’ Amber fussed with the collar of her flared-sleeve shirt— the ivory colour paired well with the navy blue skirt she wore— then fussed some more when she wasn’t satisfied. Even though she’d been looking forward to seeing Rory again for quite a while, the idea that he’d be standing in front of her didn’t really sink in until the doorbell rang.

    Amber let out a startled noise and hurried to press the linked unlocking button at the secretary’s desk; luckily, Maude never worked on Sundays.

    From here, Amber was able to watch Rory as he walked into the office. He’d never been to her workplace before and she saw his eyes scanning the room with evident curiosity.

    “Rory, hey!” She moved across the room in an instant, eagerly pulling him into a tight hug.

    “Hello,” he chuckled, rubbing her back for a quick moment. “It’s great to see you again, Amber,” he said when she released him. “How have you been? You cut your hair.”

    “In the spring. I knew it’d be too much of a hassle all summer,” she explained. “And I’ve been good, though I won’t say I haven’t been busy.”

    Amber offered him a drink— “I only have coffee, tea, and Jack’s pretentious fresh-pressed orange juice, though,”— and made them each a cup of coffee. After leading Rory into her office and shifting the client chairs somewhat, they sat down facing each other.

    “How have the tours been, Rory? A friend of mine who does radio told me that you left Germany in flames,” she revealed with a laugh.

    “It’s been really good, so far anyway.” His chuckle echoed hers. “Even in Canada and the States. It’s been a thrill every night.” Rory took a sip of his coffee and frowned slightly. “I wanted to invite you to the taping we did yesterday. But with all the bustle I didn’t have a chance to give you a call. I’m sorry.”

    “You don’t need to apologize, Rory. You do so much already, you can’t get everything.”

    “I would have enjoyed having you there,” he told her softly.

    Amber smiled widely. “Well, you’ve got me today and all of tomorrow,” she reminded him. “Once I remind Madame Richard that she isn’t going bankrupt.”

    “Might she?” Rory asked worriedly. “Go bankrupt?”

    “Not at all! She could retire in Monaco if she wanted to.”

    Rory chuckled. “That doesn’t sound too unpleasant, a retirement by the sea.”

    Amber laughed. “Do you wanna be the one to remind her?”

    His laughter joined hers. “No thank you!” he replied with a shake of his head. “I’ll leave it to the expert.”

    ~R~

    From the conversational French that Rory spoke, he could understand some of what Amber was saying. Not that he was paying much attention anyway; he’d idly walked around the room once she picked up the phone and had only just sat back down after reviewing the books on the shelf.

    Amber spoke in a reassuring tone and sat on her desk absentmindedly. Her free hand was a flurry of gestures as she animated the conversation; she often talked with her hands. It came to rest on her thigh, her fingertips near the bottom edge of her skirt, and Rory tried to hide his face.

    ‘I’ve missed you,’ he confessed, though only to himself. At night, he missed the softness of her skin and the weight of her against him. In the daytime, he missed her sense of humour and the goodness she saw in people. Rory also knew that even if that December night in his hotel hadn’t happened— had she never unclothed him and he not almost begged for it— that he’d long for her company anyway.

    A queasy feeling nestled inside of his chest when he remembered that night, and the realization dawning on him that other men could see how beautiful she was. That the curves of her muscle and sway of her skirts weren't purely for his eyes. Had anyone seen her nude, since their encounter last winter? Had she wanted anyone, in the way that he wanted her? Just the thought of it made Rory's blood rush, and he bit his cheek to keep from turning red.

    'If I would see any man leer at her…' Rory was far from being a spiteful man, but just the thought of Amber being looked at like she was something to conquer, well, that filled him with anger.

    The sound of a pen hitting the floor snapped Rory out of his thoughts, and he was out of his seat without thinking. He crouched beside Amber to pick the pen up, but she was still deep in conversation and had taken another one off her desk to keep writing.

    A dark shape in Rory's peripheral vision caught his attention. It was a sunflower, he realized, seeing most of the mid-thigh tattoo peek out from the hem of her skirt. The shading of the petals was a deep contrast to Amber's pale skin, which he got a better glimpse of when she leaned away from him.

    'Christ, help me,' he pleaded internally, feeling a burst of longing in his chest, and somewhere lower, too. He scolded himself as he straightened up. 'Get yourself together, man!'

    He tried but didn't have much success, so it was unsurprising that he smiled shyly at Amber when she glanced at him. Another few sentences were spoken into the telephone while Rory tried to bury the ache in his belly.

    "She's all convinced," Amber announced soon after, setting the phone down. "At least for this month, anyway. Did you have a good breakfast? If you're hungry, we could head out."

    Rory stood up and offered his arm as support while she hopped off the desk. "How about we eat at your apartment? We can pick something up on the way there."

    "I have a better idea," she grinned. "When's the last time you had a home-cooked meal?"

    ~A~

    Regaled with stories from the tour and feeling relieved to be in Rory’s company, Amber found herself relaxing. She’d been restless for nearly three weeks— ever since he’d called her from Hamburg with a mind to reminisce— and hadn’t been able to get comfortable with an album or book or even a television show. Though seeing him today had given her some reprieve from worry and the meal of warm roast beef sandwiches had filled her belly, she couldn’t take her eyes off of him for long.

    Rory was looking through the shelf of albums beside her stereo when he noticed a black cover with bold, white lettering. "Is this Paul Rodgers' new band?"

    "Yeah, and it's a pretty good album for a debut," Amber noted, making her way to the sofa. "The next one's good too."

    "This one, Slow Flux?" he asked, holding up the Steppenwolf album. Rory had noticed the lack of category on the shelf as soon as he started flipping through the albums, but seeing an old folk album sandwiched between Steppenwolf and Uriah Heep made him chuckle. "Abandoned the alphabet, have you?"

    "That shelf is chaos to everyone but me. I think it's all the organizing at work that makes me want to throw any alphabetized list right into the garbage," she admitted with a laugh.

    "I don't think I blame you for it," he assured her with a laugh.

    Amber watched as Rory looked at another few albums before picking one and putting it on the turntable. It only took a few rotations of the vinyl for Amber to recognize the album: Blues Hoot, a live album with Sonny Terry and no less than three other prolific bluesmen.

    "Good pick."

    Rory sat down beside her on the sofa, making a calculated effort to leave space between them. "Thank you," he murmured, "I don't think I've heard this one in ages."

    They sat in silence for the first few songs, until Rory nudged Amber's arm with a small grin. "Well, I think it's your turn now. I've blathered enough," he teased. "What have you been up to these past months?"

    Amber shrugged, unsure about the newsworthiness of her day-to-day life. "Work, mostly," she admitted with a laugh. She told him of a client she'd acquired in July, a high-profile man who wanted to be sure his cleaning staff weren't stealing from his safes. "But other than that, Rory, nothing incredibly captivating."

    "Yeah?" he pressed on with a hint of a smile. "What about the mildly captivating stuff?"

    Amber scoffed, shaking her head. "I've met a few people and most have become friends by now. Went on a few dates too, if you could call them that. Came home alone and tossed their number out," she added, internally chiding herself for saying that to him. In an attempt to comfort herself over that self-imposed judgement error, she returned to the subject of work. "At least Jack pays me well for overtime."

    "How you do it, Amber, I've no idea. Having a desk job and enjoying it, too," he added.

    "I'm good with numbers," she shrugged. "It could be worse."

    "Either way, I commend you for it. Truly. I can't see myself having any sanity left if I stayed put like that." Rory didn't want the conversation to turn pessimistic, so he tapped her foot with his and smiled when she looked at him. "Let alone getting all dressed up to go dancing at clubs and going on dates," he teased.

    "Who says I get all dressed up, huh? I have a perfectly nice burlap sack for first dates," she retorted. "It's not all it's cracked up to be anyway, trust me," she added through laughter. "And what about you?"

    Rory's brow furrowed. "What about me?"

    "Find any kindred spirits of the womanly sort, while out and about?" Amber was only teasing him, but she couldn't hide it from herself how much she wanted him to say no, he hadn't.

    "Oh, no," he stammered. "I've barely got the time to have a decent conversation with a woman, let alone... no." Rory was nearly whispering as he let his words trail off.

    Amber smiled, though she tried to hide it. "You're certainly not like any other rock star I know, Rory, and I mean it as a compliment."

    "I'm not a rock star, Amber," he huffed in a terse reply.

    Amber let the conversation drop, but she wasn't able to get his words out of her mind. 'Did I piss him off?' she asked herself worriedly, unsure of what Rory was feeling. She remained without a clue until the first side of Blues Hoot ended and she noticed the concentration on his face: he was worried about something— or thinking very hard about it, at least.

    'I'm going to pry it out of him,' she decided, and spoke once she reached the stereo and flipped the record over. “You’re thinking so loud I can hear the gears grinding,” Amber remarked as placed the needle at the beginning of the side. “What’s up?”

    Rory’s only reply was a noncommittal grunt. It only made Amber more eager to know what it was; but once she’d sat back down beside him, Rory spoke.

    “Just something I’ve been thinking about for a while,” he told her in a quiet voice. “Since it happened, really.”

    Amber tried to look at Rory’s face but he was looking at his hands and didn’t return her gaze.

    “The last time we saw each other, I mean,” he admitted quietly. “The night we spent at the hotel.”

    Cold fear gripped Amber and she fought against the urge to hide herself away from whatever was about to happen. She overcame her worry but looked away from the man beside her. “What about it?”

    “All of it, really.” A short moment’s pause. “Amber, I—”

    She was blurting out an apology before he could finish. “Look, if I shouldn’t have said anything or done anything, Rory, I’m sorry.” Amber stood up and felt the fierce burning of embarrassment on her face; but had she stayed put, she would have seen that Rory was looking at her softly. “I should have just gone home,” she fumed, “and I fucked up, pushing myself onto you like that.”

    He reached out for her hand to keep her near, but she was already moving away from the sofa. Still, his fingertips brushed her leg in their search for her hand and Amber stopped mid-step.

    “I know I can be withdrawn, Amber,” he pleaded, his voice low. “Sit down, will you? You didn’t push me to do anything I didn’t want to do,” he told her firmly, his eyes locked onto hers as she turned to face him again.

    She took a deep breath and returned beside him as he’d asked. ‘Why do we have to do this?’ she demanded, but only to herself. ‘Because you were stupid and now it’s biting you back, that's why!’

    “I tried to write you a letter,” he admitted in a murmur. “While I was on tour.”

    “You did write me letters. I keep all of them,” she added quietly.

    Rory shook his head. “Not the one I’m talking about. I must have tried to start the blasted thing a dozen times but I didn’t know how.” Turning to her with pleading eyes, he asked the question he’d spent months agonizing over. “Do you regret it?”

    “Do you?”

    “No.” There was no hesitation. “I care about you, Amber.”

    Amber hummed a nervous laugh. “Well, that’s good to hear.”

    Rory took her hand assuredly and squeezed. “You’re important to me,” he reiterated. “And I do care about you, even if I’m lost at how to reconcile that within myself.”

    Looking at their clasped hands, Amber smiled a little bit. “I don’t regret saying what I said to you, Rory. And I don’t regret taking you to bed, either.” An image of that bed pushed its way into her mind and she blushed without realizing.

    Rory’s own mind was remembering the way his belly had ached earlier, catching a glimpse of that elusive tattoo of hers once more. “Can I tell you something else?” he questioned.

    “Hmm?”

    “I might have spent every night alone in my bed, but with the picture of you in my mind, I’m not quite sure I was alone.”

    Their hands still entwined, Amber brought them to her lips and kissed the back of Rory’s hand. He smelled good, she noticed, though her cheeks were too warm for the thought to be very coherent. From the corner of her eye she saw Rory’s intense gaze and met his eyes.

    “Will you let me kiss you?” he wondered in a whisper.

    Amber bit the inside of her lip in want. “I think I’m going to let you do a lot more than kiss me.”

    ~R~

    ‘It must be past seven, now,’ Rory wondered, though if he was being honest he didn’t much care what time it was. He’d spent too much time this year worrying about schedules and appointments to let himself fret over a clock while in Amber’s bed, so he was glad when she asked him a question.

    “When you went to Japan back in January, what was the best part of it?”

    “Where’d that one come from?” he teased, pulling her a little closer to him.

    Amber shrugged, though she didn’t lift herself off of his chest to do so. “A few weeks ago I was looking at the photographs you sent me and it just popped back into my head.”

    Rory smiled; it made him happy to know that she would look at his letters long after receiving them.

    “Oh! And you’re not allowed to say the best part was performing,” she exclaimed in a rush. “Because you always enjoy that.”

    “Fine, alright.” His frustrated grumble was obviously fake, but he nonetheless agreed to her terms. “I think I enjoyed the history that everything’s got over there," he answered after a moment's thought. "People have lived on those islands for twenty or thirty thousand years. Everything has the mark of humanity in it.”

    “It must have been incredible to see.”

    “It was.”

    “That picture of the sunrise you sent was gorgeous. I’d love to see the sun rise from somewhere up high.”

    Rory remembered that photograph; once it was developed, he’d simply written “rising sun” on the backside. He opened his mouth to tell her about Dónal’s upset when he’d snatched the camera away from his brother to take the picture, but his stomach rumbled loudly and Amber giggled at the sound.

    “Well, I think you might want something to eat before anything else,” she conceded. “I’ll wash up and meet you in the kitchen.”

    “I’ll put the kettle on,” he assured her, unashamedly watching as she rose from the bed and left in the direction of the bathroom. ‘What a beautiful woman.’ Amber wasn’t only a pretty face: even Rory had to admit that he’d be hard-pressed to find another woman with whom he felt so comfortable.

    After putting his briefs back on and getting up from the bed, Rory searched Amber’s room for his jeans. He didn’t find them— not that he’d tried very hard— and decided to claim one of her cotton pyjama bottoms as his own.

    Amber joined him in the kitchen before too long, and he'd already put the kettle on to boil and taken two cups out. Her choice of greeting was to lightly trail her fingertips along the soft skin of his stomach, only a touch above the elastic waistband.

    "I see you've traded plaid for polka dots," she teased with a wide grin. "It looks good on you, maybe you should squeeze in a costume change on stage."

    Feigning upset, Rory sighed deeply. "Are you insulting my carefully handcrafted concert procedures?" He shook his head but couldn't hide his smile. "The audacity of you, Amber!"

    Lifting her hands into the air, she shrugged innocently. "Don't shoot the messenger!"

    "Promise I won't," he replied.

    They drank two cups of coffee each and even enjoyed brown sugar toast, something Rory had never eaten before. The secret, Amber explained, was to mix the butter and brown sugar together before spreading it on the toast— and like she promised, it made all the difference.

    Rory could still taste the sugar on his lips when Amber's retelling of a thriller film she'd recently seen made him recall the item he'd stashed in his coat.

    "I nearly forgot!" Rory seemed to jump into action at this realization and dashed over to his coat on the hooks beside the apartment door. "I've gotten something for you," he added, having finished rifling through the pockets and returning to the table.

    "What's this?"

    Rory handed her the thin hardcover book and sat down, letting himself bask in the brightness of her smile. The book was called To Die In Italbar, and though it had been released last year, the shop owner had assured Rory that it lived up to the author's previous novels.

    "I don’t know if you’ve already got a copy, but I saw it in a shop in New York last month and bought it for you," he explained. "I remember when we lived in London, you were reading a book of his about those Egyptian gods and you couldn’t put it down,” he recalled with a quiet laugh. “I thought you might like this one too.”

    "Oh, thank you, Rory!" Amber beamed as she thanked him, standing up to hug him. "It's really nice of you," she murmured, with her arms resting on his shoulders. Taking advantage of their difference in height thanks to Rory being seated, she leaned down to kiss him.

    He brought his hands to her waist and let Amber's scent wash over him; her hair was loose and that light citrus perfume was coming in waves.

    "I'm glad you're happy with it," he said once they broke apart.

    Amber smiled. "Of course I am."

    Rory watched as she brought the book into the living room, placing it flat on one of the bookshelves.

    "Did you draw this?" she inquired, holding up a small piece of paper.

    'Shit! I left that in the book?' he groaned internally. His cheeks reddened in embarrassment, but he nodded. "Yeah," he admitted. "It's just a quick little sketch. I was feeling creative, I suppose…" In reality, Rory had spent quite some time on that drawing of Amber, sitting on an armchair with a book.

    "It's wonderful," she cooed, approaching him once more. "But for this thank you, you'll have to stand," she added cheekily.

    He did, without hesitation, and was greeted with a deep kiss and the warmth of her body against his. Her kiss grew in intensity and this prompted Rory to bring his hands to her lower back, hungrily accepting her kiss.

    A needy groan escaped him when she pressed her teeth into his bottom lip; Rory offered his tongue in response and she hummed in delight.

    "So," Amber pressed, "is that the image of me you brought to bed?"

    Too surprised to think of an answer, Rory's face replied with red-hued bashfulness.

    "Does that blush mean what I think it means?" she teased, lightly kissing his lips.

    "What, um… what do you think it means?"

    Amber dragged her lips away from his, leaving a trail of soft kisses and hot breath to his neck. "Well, you couldn't have gone all this time without a little... relief."

    Rory groaned, feeling goosebumps rise on his waist at her feather touch.

    "Would you think of me, Rory, when you wanted some relief?"

    Amber's hand was now firmly on him, a steady rubbing over thin cotton, and all he could do for the moment was gasp. She was still peppering his chest with kisses when he managed to answer her.

    "I did," he confessed, though he felt he might die of shyness. "Yeah."

    Amber giggled, a devilish sound that drove Rory crazy. "What would you imagine me doing to you?"

    He sighed her name and tried to think, but he only managed a jumbled attempt of speech. “This…”

    “It’s really hot,” she whispered, kissing his jaw. Though Rory could barely think, Amber knew he was enjoying her. “Thinking about you doing that just makes me burn up,” she divulged, her tone deep. With one hand on the side of his neck and the other much lower, Amber touched her lips to his. “So, tell me. What would I do to you, late at night?”

    ‘I can’t believe she’s doing this to me,’ he thought, and tried to answer her. He had imagined her doing all sorts of things while he’d lain in hotel beds, but he was a good man and a gentleman. He couldn’t possibly tell her about wanting her to—

    “Kiss my chest.” Rory surprised himself with his breathy demand.

    “Hmm?” Amber slowly moved the hand on his neck to his collarbone, softly running her fingers along his skin. Tilting her head, she pressed her lips to him, his chest hair only making her want him more. “Like this?” she murmured, bringing her kisses lower and letting her tongue briefly touch his nipple.

    “Yes,” he moaned quietly; it was all he could do.

    Amber slowly lowered herself to a crouch, dragging her kisses downward as she did so. “What about this?”

    “Yeah,” he whimpered. In any other circumstance he would have been embarrassed to be so obviously in need of a woman. But with Amber's warm breath raising goosebumps on his exposed waist, he couldn't give a damn about anything other than her mouth.

    "Tell me," she demanded, "what next?"

    "You'd— oh!" Rory yelped, startled by the gentle bite she pressed into his hip.

    "What was that?" Amber laughed, obviously pleased with herself, and lowered his waistband nearly as much as he wanted her to, but not quite.

    Rory couldn't repeat himself; in all honesty, he wasn't sure he could speak at all. Amber's firm hand was moving over him and her sloppy kiss was so close.

    'Go lower, Amber! Please, lower!'

    "Polka Dot, your knees are trembling," she teased knowingly. "Maybe we should get you to the bed."

    Rory's laughter sounded a little strangled. "With you pushing yourself into me and your hands on my arse, were you expecting anything else?"

    She giggled at that, accepting his outstretched hand to help her back onto her feet. But Rory didn't let her go just yet; his chest grew warm and he eagerly kissed her.

    "I'm just being cautious," she explained, a cheeky smile on her face. "I wouldn't want to face your brother if I'd gotten you all banged up while trying to bang you."

    Rory laughed, equal parts surprised and amused by her quip. "Lead the way, then," he told her with a bow of his head. Then, unashamedly, he locked his eyes onto her behind and didn't look away until they reached the bedroom.

    'I'll have you slowly,' he decided silently; setting his mind to savour the feel of Amber's skin against his. Earlier, their need for each other had been so feverish that Rory's attempts at pacing himself hadn't had any chance of success. But just as Rory sat on the edge of the bed, planting kisses on Amber's stomach— she stood between his legs— a loud knocking interrupted them.

    Rory groaned in loud frustration. "If that's my brother and he heard you, tell him he can toss right off."

    Amber's laughter brought a smile to his face, though it disappeared as soon as she spoke. "I think I know who it is. I really should answer the door."

    "You really need to?"

    Whoever was at the door knocked again, though this time with more force.

    "I won't be gone more than two minutes," she promised before placing her hands at the nape of his neck and drawing him into a deep kiss. "I'll give you this to keep yourself warm." Amber backed out of his arms and pushed her underwear down, letting them fall to the ground.

    Rory could only stare at her bareness and then her panties, once she dropped them into his hands. "You can't be answering the door like that!" he urged in shock.

    "Don't worry!" She took a long nightgown off the dresser and wrapped it around herself, looking back at him from the doorway with a cheeky grin. "If I take longer than two minutes, you can bend me over your knee and slap me."

    Amber was gone from the bedroom when the realization of what she'd said hit Rory like a brick. He stared at her panties, laying in his palms— soft lilac fabric that was so very much Amber— his mouth agape.

    "Did she just…"

    ~A~

    'I'm going to kill him,' Amber lied to herself, if only to soothe the annoyance caused by his knock.

    Paul had given her a phone call two days ago to confirm the drop-off; and she'd promised to have Rory at her apartment when he'd arrive. At the time she felt it was the least she could do, given that Paul had done the dirty work by getting Rory's gift for her. Though Paul's place of esteem within the amateur radio world surely helped on that front.

    Regardless of what she maybe should do, Amber pushed Rory's shoes out of sight with her foot and made sure his coat was behind the door before opening it.

    "Amy, I thought maybe you were out. How's it going?"

    Amber had rarely met a Frenchman who could pronounce her name without difficulty, so she'd adopted Amy as her go-to name for most occasions.

    "Very good, Paul, thanks. And you? I hope it wasn't too difficult to find," she added, shaking his hand before taking the cased instrument from him.

    "Not the treasure hunt I thought it would be," he admitted. He peered behind Amber, failing at discretion. "Is Rory here, by chance? I'd love to say hello."

    Amber frowned— to seem sincere, but mostly from her distaste of lying. "He was here earlier. His brother picked him up about an hour ago, they had some business details to mull over."

    "That's a shame. Maybe I'll catch him next time," Paul uttered. "I'll be on my way, then, and if there's any problems with it just let me know."

    "I will, Paul." Amber shook his hand again. "Thank you, really. You're fine for cash?"

    "We're paid and settled, Amy. Don't worry about it," Paul told her with a smile. "Give him my best."

    She told him she would and to drive home safely, then closed the door as she wondered if Rory had overheard any of their conversation. It didn't matter, she decided, and placed the nearly-rectangular wooden case against the wall where she was sure Rory would notice it.

    "Was that more than two minutes?" Amber asked as soon as she reached her bedroom.

    Rory hadn't moved and she giggled at the sight of him, still holding her discarded panties. "One minute and fifty-eight," he sighed dramatically. "You're safe."

    An exaggerated frown appeared on her lips. "Oh, then maybe I should go into the kitchen for ten seconds."

    "Get over here!" Rory laughed, and when Amber stood in front of him, he took her hands in his. "Who was at the door?"

    "A friend of mine. He was just bringing over some music that I'd asked for." She let Rory bring her palm to his lips before moving her hand to his cheek. "His timing is impeccably terrible." Amber leaned down and kissed him, praying that the unwanted interlude hadn't dampered anything.

    "And why was I out with my brother?"

    "Well, I wasn't going to tell him the truth," she scoffed. "'Yes, I was just with Rory actually," she parodied. "'He had his tongue in my mouth and next time I see him, I'm going to make sure it's something else of his in my mouth'."

    Rory's shocked gasp stopped her from saying anything else. "Amber! That's filthy."

    Despite his condemning tone, his cheeks burned red and Amber chuckled. "Yeah?" she prodded. "And do you like it?"

    He could only stare back at her with his mouth slightly open, heart pounding and mind racing.

    Amber giggled in delight and got down to her knees again. "You kinda do like it, don't you?" she asked, her eyes locked on his. 'I hope you do, because it's so fucking hot.'

    "I've not… well, I…"

    "You don't have to be shy over it," she urged, realizing what he meant to say. "A little filthiness once in a while doesn't hurt. Lift your hips."

    Rory listened to her— admittedly still stunned— and she pulled the polka dotted bottoms and his briefs down together. "Any tricks for that?" he asked, forcing the question past the whimper that rose in his chest at the sight of her hastily discarding her nightgown.

    Amber kissed his thighs softly, pulling him closer to her with a hand behind each of his knees. "Close your eyes, maybe?" she offered, even though hers were wide open and fixed on him. 'Close enough to taste.'

    "Not a chance, Amber."

    Then, a moan— no, two moans; one aching and one rumbling. Quite different but so very the same.

    ~R~

    Had Rory slept at all?

    He had little notion of what time it was or how long he'd been asleep, but he was quite aware of the painful ache in chest. As he watched Amber sleep, he was helpless to stop the worry creeping up on him.

    'Who do I think I am, to be treating her like this?'

    It was only when she stirred, shifting on the bed to find more comfort, that he let himself think he was enough for her. Amber was facing him now. She was still asleep, that much was clear by the softness of her features.

    His whispered confession was paired with the gentle touch of his lips to her forehead. "I wish I could love you like I should."

    "You love me just fine, baby."

    "You're awake?"

    Her answer was just as groggy as the last. "Kind of."

    "Did I wake you?"

    "No."

    He knew that he had, but appreciated the fib anyway. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

    "For what?" she huffed derisively. "I'm chilly." With that, Amber pressed herself closer to Rory and accepted his embrace.

    "You're warmer than a kettle, Amber."

    "Then maybe you're chilly," she mumbled "It'll even out, don't worry."

    ~A~

    When Amber woke a few hours later, Rory wasn’t in bed beside her. The sheets were cold where he’d lain and she felt a twist of disappointment in her chest. It was no secret to her that Rory was prone to sleepless nights— or nights with very little of it, anyway— but she’d secretly hoped he would find rest in her bed.

    ‘Maybe I was stupid to think that.’

    The hallway was short enough that she could see light coming from the living room, so after a minute to herself in the bathroom she made her way to him. He’d turned on the floor lamp in the far corner and was sitting on the sofa, eyes glued to the coffee table.

    ‘He found it.’ Amber walked around to the front of the sofa and found that she was right: he’d put the weathered case onto the table and opened it, letting the soft lamplight illuminate the banjo nestled inside.

    “Hey,” she spoke quietly. “Couldn’t sleep?”

    Rory looked at her with a piercing gaze, but his tone was soft. “Did you buy this for me?”

    She nodded in reply. “Do you like it?”

    “Amber, this must have cost… You didn’t have to,” he added worriedly.

    “But do you like it?”

    Rory stood without a word and hugged her, his face buried in her neck.

    “That’s all the answer I need.” Amber loved how tightly his arms surrounded her and didn’t want him to let go, but when he did, she smiled anyway.

    “It’s an incredible looking thing,” he admitted in a whisper.

    “I don’t know how long it’ll stay in tune or anything.” Amber sat down and Rory did the same. “But it’s sixty years old and that’s the original case.” She knew it was silly to try to impress him, but she tried just the same.

    “Amber, I can’t accept this,” he stammered with embarrassment. “It’s too much, really. I got you a book for Christ’s sake and you’ve given me this, and it must have cost a fortune.”

    “Well to start with, knock a few zeros off the number in your head. That should make it easier to accept,” she prompted. “Once I heard the story, I would have bought it anyway and maybe hung it on the wall or donated it to a museum. But you’ll likely appreciate it more than some stuffy historian would.”

    It bothered her immensely to have to downplay her gift, but she did it anyway. That’s not to say she wasn’t glad when curiosity got the best of him.

    “Sixty years, you said?” Rory wondered aloud. “What’s the story behind it?”

    “It originally belonged to a Welshman,” she began, glad to share the instrument’s history with its new owner. “He ordered it to be made in July, just before the Archduke was shot, but it wasn’t ready by the time the call for volunteers went out. He put his name down and got shipped off to fight.”

    Reaching toward the banjo, Amber lightly touched its neck.

    “But he made it through the war,” she continued, “and came home in one piece. He didn’t play it until the war ended, and then nearly all he did was play. Eventually his granddaughter inherited it, and when she moved to Belgium she sold it to an antiques collector who had it until last week.”

    “Lord rest the man’s soul.” Rory murmured the prayer under his breath and Amber nodded in agreement. “How did you come to have it?” he pried.

    “I was trying to learn more about my grandfather. He died early in the war, in the North Sea,” she explained slowly. “I was looking around for people who might know anything and a friend of mine, Paul, suggested I visit his antique-collecting cousin. We took the train to Ghent and once I saw this thing and heard more about it, I wanted it. Paul owed me a favour so he dealt with his cousin to wrangle it away, and brought it here earlier.”

    Rory shook his head slightly and rubbed his forehead. When he spoke, his words faltered. “I never thought…”

    Amber’s brow furrowed and she reached for his hand instinctively. “Are you alright?” Maybe without him even realizing, Rory’s arm twitched at her approach. She pulled her hand away. “Is something wrong?” she asked, though she knew there was.

    Either one of them could have heard a pin drop.

    “Maybe. I’m…”

    “Was it the sex?”

    “No.” His reply was firm but his jaw was set tight and he seemed to be frowning, too.

    As if she could see a puzzle being completed within her mind’s eye, Amber took an educated guess. “It’s not a promise ring, Rory. It’s not my father’s watch and it’s not my mother’s pearls. It’s a banjo.” Then, feeling like she needed to make the point bolder, she spoke again. “I can even keep it here if you want, so you don’t have to look at it all the time.”

    “It’s not that, Amber,” he sighed, glancing at her as he brushed off her concern. “I’m thrilled to have it and I’m very grateful to you for it.”

    “But something’s bothering you.”

    Rory stared down at his lap and said nothing.

    ‘He’ll tell me, in his own time,’ she reminded herself. Still, only half a minute passed in thick silence until she changed her mind. ‘If he wants to be difficult, I’ll be difficult too.’ With her mind decided, Amber leaned back into the sofa and stretched her legs out, resting them behind Rory. “Turn your back to me.”

    “Huh?”

    “Slide over here with your back towards me. Just humour me for a minute,” she added, countering his confused expression.

    So Rory did as she’d asked him to; only to have her wrap her arms around him and pull him close. Now with him leaning against her and mostly immobile, Amber told him to put his legs up on the couch alongside hers.

    “Since you got here yesterday, you’ve been honest with me, haven’t you?”

    “Of course I have,” he answered, sounding nearly insulted to be thought a liar.

    “I’m happy you can be honest with me.” Amber spoke as if she ignored his annoyed tone, which she very much was doing. “At the risk of sounding like a sap, I’m proud of you for talking to me. I know what it takes for you to open up, Rory, so don’t think that I don’t.”

    His sigh was almost inaudible. “What are you getting at?”

    “I’m getting at you telling me whatever the fuck is going on in your head,” she demanded.

    “You don’t have to be angry, Amber.”

    “I’m not angry. But I’ll be damned if I let you get on a plane in two days without fixing this.” She tightened her grip somewhat, feeling him itching to stand. “You’re my best friend and God knows when next I’ll see you.”

    This time, he squirmed. “Amber, come on,” he begged, attempting to get up. “Let me up.”

    “No! I won’t let you up and don't test me on it, because I’ll wrap my leg around you too if that’s what it takes to get you to talk to me.”

    “And what is it you want me to tell you?” he huffed in frustration.

    “Whatever’s spinning around in your brain, Rory,” she retorted, equally frustrated. “You’re keeping it to yourself and I will not have it! Even apocalyptic prophecy is a little less hard to handle when there’s two people carrying it, and I don’t think you’re seeing Armageddon.”

    Somewhat reluctantly, he lessened his fight against her. “No, it’s not Armageddon,” he conceded in a mumble.

    ‘If it’s not the End Times, it can’t be that bad,’ Amber said to herself. She could feel his muscles relaxing and slackened her arms in tandem.

    When he finally spoke— although it seemed unrelated to his worries, at first— her arms were simply resting on his chest and he’d let the full weight of himself rest against her. “How long were you in Edinburgh before you went to live in London?”

    “Four or five years, I’d say,” she told him after some thought.

    “Did you leave anyone behind?”

    “In the city itself? No. Scotland as a whole, though, I’d likely say I did.”

    “Did you ever go back to them? Whoever it was you left in those cities, did you ever go back to them?” he repeated himself.

    ‘What’s his point?’ she screamed silently. “To my teenage boyfriend or an essayed fantasy man; no. I didn’t go back and I didn’t want to.”

    “Then why do I want to, and so much,” he mumbled.

    Even though she couldn’t see his face, Amber raised her hand to brush his hair back. She was afraid to ask, but asked anyway. “Where do you want to go?”

    “Nowhere. Not right now.” He sighed; she felt the heavy rise and fall of his chest. “I never stay in one place for long,” he told her, his voice nearing a tremble. “Even when I have a vacation of some sorts, I spend it roaming around. How can I defend myself wanting you, Amber?”

    She opened her mouth to tell him that he didn’t have to justify his emotions, but Rory started talking again.

    “What kind of man would I be if I tied you to me and then went gallivanting off around the world? Maybe if I felt it wasn’t wrong to do that, I might be able to. But… I can’t justify to myself that I want you.”

    Amber’s heart broke. His voice was raw with feeling and his usual soft tone was replaced by one of melancholy. “You’re torturing yourself, Rory. Don’t agonize over this,” she pleaded, her voice slightly quivering.

    “I can’t ignore it. Even if it’s just me asking the question.”

    “You don’t have to ignore it.” Amber smoothed his hair back, though it was to comfort herself as much as him. “Just think a little less. For the sake of your heart.”

    “And what about the sake of yours?”

    Silence overcame them.

    After the longest minute of her life, Amber said Rory’s name. “I’m going to tell you something and I need you to listen to me. And really hear it, okay?” she urged. “It’s only you who’s asking yourself that question because I won’t ever ask it to you.”

    Rory exhaled through his nose in a low huff.

    “I haven’t lied to you and I’m not going to start now. I don’t need your permission to love you, Rory, and I certainly don’t need it to feel the same when you’re gone.” Amber breathed deeply and forced her voice to be steady. “Do I want to ask you to stay, sometimes? And do I want you to let yourself feel for me? Yes.”

    A raspy noise came from Rory’s mouth.

    “But you don’t need to answer that and you won’t have to either, because I’ll never give you that decision to make. I know how itchy you feel when you’re not traveling and you don’t have shows lined up. Do you remember the couple of weeks you spent here, after the Taste fiasco?

    “‘Course I do,” he nodded.

    “Well, so do I,” she replied firmly. “I’ve never seen you so agitated since, with three months ahead of you and nowhere to go.” Amber paused for a moment. “I’d rather love you from afar than have you in one place feeling restless and unhappy.”

    After a moment’s pause, Rory chuckled quietly. “You should write self-help books, Amber. You’d solve the world’s problems.”

    “Oh, get off,” she deflected with a small laugh. “If that’s the case, tell me why I’ve still got problems!”

    He laughed alongside her, and she hoped her words had impacted him as she’d intended.

    “I’ll tell you another thing, Rory. Then I’m dragging you to bed so you can sleep like a rock, alright?”

    “Alright,” he answered with a tiny nod.

    “I want you to be happy and that’s my priority, not keeping you all to myself. It’s how I know that I’m not wrong to care about you.” Amber pressed her lips to the top of his head. “And if it’s what you think is best,” she continued, “I can live my life and when you’re here, we can see what’s what.” She moved her arms off his chest and playfully slapped his leg. “Now, get off me and let’s go to bed.”

    ~R~

    Somehow, Amber had soothed his soul. She had found him in her living room and seen his mind reeling, known what he was feeling, and had comforted him well into the night. Whenever he had stirred near wakefulness during the night, Amber pulled him close and her warmth lulled him back into sleep.

    Now, opening his eyes and finding her beside him, Rory smiled. ‘Even if I can’t keep her, I’m lucky to have her,’ he admitted, admiring the demure softness of her features. ‘For a woman to be so beautiful…’

    Amber shifted gently, making a strand of hair fall over her face. Carefully he reached out and brushed it back, but couldn’t resist a brief moment of intimacy and cupped her cheek in his hand. His touch roused her and she stretched, groaning and reaching out as woke herself up.

    “Hello,” he chuckled, accepting Amber when she rolled into his arms.

    “Good morning,” she answered with a smile, giving his cheek a light kiss. “Did you sleep well?”

    “Very well,” he assured, “as promised. Thank you.” Rory brought his lips to her forehead and then her mouth. He was growing wantful of her and couldn’t ignore the rumbling urge inside of him.

    “Thanks for what?”

    “For… sleeping beside me,” he explained, only to be met with Amber’s cheerful giggle.

    “Oh yeah, well, it was a big chore for me,” she teased, but kissed him happily. “You did sleep like a rock, though. You didn’t even hear the phone ring.”

    Rory didn’t much care who had called; he was much too busy with thoughts of her soft skin. “Who called?” he asked anyway, while the fleeting image of that sunflower tattoo he’d noticed yesterday pushed itself into his mind.

    “Dónal, but he didn’t sound too stressed,” she replied. “I told him you were sleeping and he said it was nothing urgent.”

    “Nothing urgent?” Rory repeated.

    “No.”

    “Good,” he smirked. “He can wait.” Without making himself wait, Rory kissed Amber. His mouth was gentle on hers but their shared kiss quickly became desperate. In his mind, he heard Amber’s words again. ‘’When we’re together, we’ll see what’s what.’ That's what she said, and right now… God knows I want to make love to you.’

    He was hungry for her and couldn’t hide it anymore— not that cotton briefs and pyjama bottoms would put up much of a fight. Rory put his hand on the small of her back and dragged her closer; Amber moaned into his mouth as she felt his want pressing into her.

    Rory’s heart was pounding as he trailed his lips to her neck, desperately planting messy kisses on her warm skin.

    “You’re giving me goosebumps!” she gasped, quietly giggling.

    “Am I?” he murmured against her skin, letting one hand travel along her side in search of them. He found the goosebumps very quickly. “Hmm, you’re right.”

    “Even my legs,” she breathed, noticing how Rory’s eyes searched over her with clear fire.

    He gave her a smile, looking very much like a man who knows what he wants. “I wonder if I can give you goosebumps anywhere else,” he asked, though he wasn’t quite asking.

    Rory slowly brought his hand down her side and her reaction made him twitch despite the restraining cotton. He let his thumb hook under the hem of her panties and pressed his fingers into the curve of her behind. Then, a change of pace with a barely-there touch along her middle, towards the sip of her skin, coming to a rest halfway down her thighs.

    Amber gave him what he wanted— but only a little. She eased apart her legs and let his fingers dig into her thighs. “I don’t think that’ll be too hard to find out.” Her sigh became a moan as he lifted her leg and settled it onto his hip.

    Rory’s voice was thick with lust. “Let me be the judge of that.”

    Amber’s leg around him gave Rory easy access; not that she’d been resisting in any way. She whimpered when his fingertips met the damp fabric for a fleeting moment and Rory grinned devilishly. Her face was flushed with arousal and he wouldn’t delay any longer.

    He moved away from her wanting heat and gently pushed her onto her back; lowering his mouth to her stomach as he did so. He pushed her oversized shirt up a few inches and let his hand roam under the fabric, caressing her breasts with a firm grasp.

    Amber moaned without restraint when he flicked his thumb over her nipple.

    “That’s right, baby,” he crooned in a whisper; his hot breath on her panties as he moved his thumb again.

    Her next moan was somehow dirtier, sounding to Rory like a selfish beg. As luck would have it, he was right where he wanted to be and made quick work of removing her panties— tossing them to the floor and guiding her legs apart with his tender touch.

    “Rory, I should get up and wash,” she urged breathlessly.

    “No,” he objected, only letting himself savour the sight of her, bare and so close, for a short moment before eagerly kissing her. He slid his tongue over her silken skin and pressed himself into her hair, moving her legs atop his shoulders. “You won’t get up until I’m done with you,” he firmly warned.

    Amber’s reaction was instant— she let out a throaty moan and raised her hips to meet him— Rory whimpered within his mind as relished in her sweet, slick arousal. ‘You taste so damn good!’

    Rory waited until both he and Amber had taken showers and gotten dressed before searching his coat for the hotel’s phone number. The receptionist put him through to Dónal’s room, and it turned out that his earlier call hadn’t been for nothing.

    “I’ve gotten a call from a radio station in Toronto,” his brother explained, “who’d like us to go down there and do a little interview and a few songs on the air.”

    “Would it clash with the dates already scheduled?” Rory asked.

    “There’s a show Friday in Montreal, so no. And he’s willing to compensate for the extra flight from Toronto.”

    Rory didn’t quite care about the compensation; he happily let his brother handle those details. “When is he asking for us?”

    “Tomorrow evening. And they’re six hours behind Paris, so it’s just reaching four in the morning over there,” Dónal added.

    Rory glanced at the calendar on Amber’s fridge before replying. It was Monday morning, and he was only supposed to leave on Wednesday. If the radio station wanted him tomorrow evening, he’d surely have to fly out sooner. “When would the flight be?” he grumbled into the handset.

    “There’s a plane leaving at eight tonight and another at four o’clock tomorrow morning, but I’d think tonight would be best.”

    Rory decided to leave this evening, though not without some struggle within himself. If he’d looked at Amber while speaking with his brother, he likely would have just hung up and left Dónal to figure out the message. But playing music kept Rory afloat, and maybe it was best if he didn’t prolong his inevitable departure…

    So Amber and Rory shared breakfast— a true feast of eggs, cheese, warm bread, and fried meat dripping with honey— and let themselves accept the goodbye. Rory could see the pain she tried to hide and had to remind himself that she wouldn’t be dishonest to him; Amber said she wanted him to go on tour, and he had to believe she meant it.

    He hadn’t arrived at her apartment with belongings in tow, but he would be leaving with the banjo she’d given him. And even though she told him it wasn’t a token of her feelings, Rory knew he’d always see it that way and gladly so.

    “You’ll keep yourself safe,” she told him firmly, fixing the collar on his jacket.

    “Always,” he promised, giving her a reassuring smile. “I’ll write to you, Amber, you know that.”

    She nodded. “I know.”

    It hurt Rory to see the glistening of her eyes. ‘Don’t cry.’ He wanted to make sure she didn’t, so he took Amber’s face in his hands and pressed his closed lip to hers with a firm demand, silently voiced but hopefully, clearly heard. When he pulled away, Amber wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, her face buried in his hair.

    “Take care of yourself, Amber,” he murmured, punctuating his words with a kiss to her forehead.

    “I will.” She handed him the banjo in its case and gave him as strong a smile as she could muster. “Give everyone my best, and tell Dónal to get a fabric case for this,” she told him.

    “I’ll do one better and tell him that you’ll kick his arse if he doesn’t,” Rory offered with a wink.

    One more goodbye before he opened the door and stepped into the hallway, leaving Amber with another chaste kiss and making his way to the street. His hotel wasn’t far away, only a twenty minute walk or less, if he felt like rushing.

    But he didn’t feel like it. He was reluctant to let go of the quiet peace that Amber’s home gave him. That she gave him, just by being who she was.

    ‘Maybe I am cursed,’ he surmised. ‘To love her so much and not be able to say it.’

    #by kelly#rory fic #i spent so much time on this it isnt even funny; i hope it makes some of you blush like crazy #that would be THE compliment; to know that my writing (especially this one hoooo boy) can make the ladies tingle #anyway! i also thought i was clever with the title ehehe #PLEASE scream at me with feedback <3 #rory gallagher
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  • extraspectrumed
    03.08.2021 - 2 hours ago
    #{a garden of roses} #▢The New Fresh|(Phae)▢ #▢Hold Me Close|(Cube)▢ #▢A Speck of Hope|(Square)▢ #{rosie doodles} #{I also have one for Blush and one other character that I can't show you guys yet} #no straight roads
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  • solaoccasum
    03.08.2021 - 2 hours ago

    a rare expression.

    #only his family has ever seen him blush #and only ( 1 ) person will ever see this :')))
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  • dolls-acme-brand-writing-desk
    03.08.2021 - 2 hours ago
    #i would blush so hard #you dont understand #its so out of character for me but im not used to romantic affection lmao #talkin to lovelies in the ask box
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  • affogato-anon
    03.08.2021 - 2 hours ago
    #my favorite hc is still the fenty cheeks out freestyle cream blush shade drama cla$$ #but the bloodshot eyes thing makes sense and fits well with the rest of your hcs as well #askgato
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  • emilyccfinds
    03.08.2021 - 3 hours ago

    Blush N38 by Seleng

    Created for: The Sims 4

    The eyeshadow has 17 colours and HQ compatible. Allowed for teen, young adult, adult and elder female. 

    DOWNLOAD (TSR)

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  • undcrthesun
    03.08.2021 - 3 hours ago
    #beautiful people tag #i’m blushing like crazy #this is so sweet #i don’t know how to accept compliments #asks!
    View Full
  • renhyucks
    03.08.2021 - 3 hours ago
    #⁽   ✉ – mail   ⁾ #⁽   💭 – mashii   ⁾ #PLS SHOW ME THE JAW MOVES SIR #JENO BRAINROT #shit it's not even a vid why am i blushing unu #this is bad #so bad so bad bestie
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  • negromouthandafro
    03.08.2021 - 3 hours ago

    Catradora didn’t walk so Lumity could run. Catradora fucking sprinted, slam dunked, stole a police car and rammed it into the white house for its own story. Lumity’s early start is only possible because at least Ms. Dana wasn’t trying to do that on Disney’s dime.

    #she ra#catradora #i'm so sorry sweetie. these kids think blushing means more than a story where the love of two women healed beautifully depicted trauma #not to make this a competition but my god. don't disrespect catradora; are you experiencing memory loss?
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  • wifeyprentiss
    03.08.2021 - 4 hours ago
    #anon in the wild #n's letters #im blushing actually #this is so cool #happy things
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  • inkemg
    03.08.2021 - 4 hours ago
    #he's staring into my fuckin' soul #i feel naked lol #that intense look #omfg#i'm melting #he's so handsome #is it possible to blush behind a screen? #i'm asking for a friend lol #those beautiful eyes #i love him #jon bernthal
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  • raincoreee
    02.08.2021 - 4 hours ago
    #wooyoung is like ‘i must solve all my problems in the worst way possible because thats the only way its worked’ #then he gets pressed when it doesnt work like sir aint there another way for you to figure this out? #apparently not if he has a whole subplot revolved around him huh asdlkfjklds #can’t wait to reveal more crumbs to this curse thooo 🎶 #what yeosang has floating in his head space is inch resting #and i hope you take care of yourself too! yall really be sweet as candy and make me blush 🥺💗💗😭 #rain.txt #asks#🦵 nonnie #cats cradle ateez
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  • thedarkrose17
    02.08.2021 - 5 hours ago

    Casual Gladnis thing to imagine:

    Iggy cooking or baking and Gladio coming over, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on Iggy's shoulder asking what he's making

    Bonus at some point he tries to sneak a taste

    #gladnis #also Ignis making cupcakes and trying one #he gets frosting on his lip and Gladio's like I'll get it off #cue Gladio kissing him and getting the frosting off #he tells Ignis it tastes good and Ignis is just there blushing a tad like thank you #darkrose17 headcanons #look I like domestic shit ok XD I'm simple like that
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  • bitchapalooza
    02.08.2021 - 5 hours ago

    China would 100% make more dirty jokes than France any day

    #you dont live 4000+ years only to know safe and pure jokes #he has know like the raunchiest of dirty jokes #so dirty it makes france blush #which i imagine is a hard thing to do when it comes to dirty jokes at least #hetalia#hetalia headcanons#hetalia france#hetalia china
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