#sunday softness

[beautifullytragicmess]

“When you drink tea you need to have your pinkie up, everyone knows that.” Reader’s daughter/son dressed as a princess/prince scolding their guests about proper tea drinking paractices

Who’s getting scolded? And who’s helping scold?

Open to silverfoxes and every other trope

[galacticidiots]

Can you believe Rey braids Ben's hair and put flowers on it? 🌸💮🏵️🌹🌺🌻🌼🌷

That’s how Leia taught little Ben how to braid hair - by having him weave flowers into pretty crowns first, so that his fingers could learn to be quick and agile - and that’s how Ben teaches Rey.

Only instead of moving from flower crowns to braids, she decides to tie the two together and weave flowers into his hair. Heliotrope, because it means eternal love and devotion, and daisies for hope and hibiscus for beauty. She picks them and weaves them into his dark, luscious locks as he rests his head on her lap, eyes closed and breathing steadily.

It’s quiet but for the singing of the birds above and the streaming of the river nearby, and with Rey’s gentle hands on his hair and the sun warming his face, Ben feels at peace.

[omg-just-peachy]

hi if you’re looking for prompts !!! maybe soft sleepy boys? one of them has something to do early in the morning then they easily cancel it when they see how sweet and soft and uncharacteristically cuddly the other is? i LOVE you and your work

This is so sweet 🥰🥺💖 I hope you enjoy this quick thing anon!

*

When Steve wakes up, the first thing he notices is that Tony is home, and it’s early. So early that the sun is hardly up yet, but when Steve rolls over, he’s greeted by the dim blue light of the arc reactor. Tony must’ve slipped into bed in the middle of the night, determined, as always, not to wake Steve up. He’s half-asleep and hazy, but he feels a smile spread slowly over his face at the way Tony is curled in so tightly around him. If he’s tactile in his waking hours, he’s an octopus when he sleeps, latching onto Steve and wrapping himself around him from chest to foot. It’s the kind of thing only Steve gets to see, and he’s not sure it’ll ever get old.

The chill of the early spring morning hangs in the air, and Steve pulls Tony in closer, pressing kisses into his hair, along his cheek, continuing his path until his nose bumps Tony’s ear. He doesn’t want to wake him up, but he’s been gone for two weeks and Steve’s missed this, the ability to reach out and kiss, to touch, just because he wants to. And now, Tony’s home after back to back business trips, sleep-warm and soft and Steve can’t resist.

Tony nuzzles into Steve’s chest reflexively, muttering quietly. “S’early,” he says, eyes pressed firmly shut.

“It’s early,” Steve agrees, watching the slow rise and fall of his husband’s chest.

“You’re not getting up, right? No ungodly morning run today,” Tony says into his pillow, opening one eye to confirm that Steve is staying put.

“I think I can spare a morning off to welcome my husband home,” Steve says softly, as if he was planning on going anywhere with the bed this warm, and Tony as soft and sleepy-affectionate as he is.

“Good,” Tony promptly closes his eyes and reaches around to pull Steve back down to sleep. The sun is starting to peek through the slats in the blinds, blanketing them in the pink and gold hues of morning, but Steve has no trouble at all drifting back to sleep.

[im-isabella2001]

we found our little sunlit escape. no noise. no rush. just soft shadows and stories whispered between smiles. the world blurred at the edges, and suddenly— it was just us. quiet. golden. ours. come linger in the light with us. 🌞

[existential-celestial]

soft lights, 7 a.m. sun soft cotton shirt, well-worn soft swaying, hips and shoulders soft playing, an old song newly discovered − j. p. berame // no. 091116