you can’t become to best version of yourself if you don’t surround yourself with people who help you to show up as that person

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you can’t become to best version of yourself if you don’t surround yourself with people who help you to show up as that person
❝ YOU KNOW, I NEVER DID bother asking; why is it you always call me that? ❞
@closecircle
closecircle replied to your post:
PERHAPS THEY WILL ENDURE
the price of being nice
@closecircle
HE LIKED her idea, lips cutting the flesh of his cheeks like a blade he’s GRINNING at her, eager, hungry - and who could blame him ? he liked getting lucky and it was not often that he found himself striking gold ! what a joy ! to have a taste of another so close. offering her his hand ( what a gentlemen ), hawke rises from his seat, smug grin set in place as he stares at her through dark lashes, amber eyes swimming in her skin and dancing along her curved features, dissecting her without restraint, and without an inch of subtlety.
She tied bows into his hair while he slept and is currently trying SO HARD not to giggle as he goes about his business with pink and lilac ribbons. She's failing.
sleeping’s become that little bit easier, what with promised warmth and a comfort found in a woman soft and treasured. so he’s fallen that little bit more into sleep, his guard is that little bit dropped --- and here, he’s paying the price for it.
but, the noise disturbs the peace, a giggle that speaks of a secret mischief. first there’s frown, a wriggle of his nose before he shifts his body to find another spot of comfort. there it is again! and now that he knows the efforts for more sleep are for naught, he dares to open an eye.
a grumble and a groan and the small curve of lips when he sees that smile that dazzles. but something’s off that causes another frown. something accusatory there then in the cracked, still sleep caught voice that slips in a mumble. “ what have you --- ”
he notices the pink in her hands.
he’s quick. quick to pull, quick to grab at her waist to press her close and press a kiss and surround her in pillows and blankets. “ mason! ”
❝ I can’t prove that someone ISN’T a reptilian. ❞
‘ no. ‘ he pauses, raising a hand in the universal sign of stop. ‘ we’re not going this again. we’re not having a repeat of the time you made me question whether the orlesians had eyebrows under their masks. not again. ‘
every time i see ur dash icon my brain goes 'thats rami malek's eye' and
can sb decipher this 4 me its 1am and im an idiot
PLANTS A BIG OL' SMOOCH RIGHT ON THE MOUTH
THAT HE HAS TO BEND for maze to reach is a small price to pay, really, no matter how many times he does it. a hundred, a thousand; it’s never too much. surely, nothing ever could be. and just as all those blesséd times before, he smiles into the press of mason’s lips. they’re soft, softer than anything he’s known. sweeter than the memory of honey on his tongue.
alucard lingers. her warmth, like her love, is the only sun he’ll ever bask in, and it’s only once he’s had his fill that his eyes finally deign to open. they're smiling, too. ❝ i think i need another. ❞