#SHAKES YOU THYME

[darklight-owl]

Nothing but ashes as Randall being pissy as mg

I hadn't heard Nothing But Ashes in like years so I went back to listen to it and fuck yea he singing to Angela

Randall should have committed arson mann tf was that sand shit 🙄 /j

[green-witch-archives]

Guide to Drying Herbs

Drying herbs is a simple practice, and there are several methods to choose from depending on the type of herb and your desire use. Here's how I dry my herbs:

1. Drying on Newspaper

2. Hanging Herbs Upside Down

3. Pressing Herbs

4. Drying Small Petals in Pouches

General Tips for Best Results

Use Breathable Cloths: Wrapping your herbs or laying them on a breathable cloth allows air to circulate freely, preventing mold while catching any small leaves or flowers that shed during the drying process.

Timing: Dry herbs as soon as possible after harvesting to retain their potency and fragrance.

Environment: Choose a dry, cool, and ventilated area to prevent mold or mildew.

Labeling: If drying multiple herbs, label them to avoid confusion.

Storage: Once dried, store your herbs in airtight containers away from sunlight and moisture.

Using Dried Herbs

Always check if the plant is safe for use before collecting it. Do not make tea or touch anything with unknown properties. Always clean your plants before drying.

[lenoraslament]

slytherin boys + edging/orgasm denial!!!

Thanks for the request!

Slytherin Boys React: Edging / Orgasm Denial

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, piv, oral (male and female receiving), degradation, orgasm denial, edging, smut with no plot.

Mattheo Riddle

“Add Ashwinder egg to a cauldron, then add horseradish and heat” Mattheo’s voice sounded strained as your head bobbed down on his cock. The sound of your gagging muffled his words so you pulled away as he groaned.

“What kind of egg?” Your eyebrow raised as he tried to grab your hair and pull you back. You smack his hand as he gives you a desperate look.

“Ashwinder…baby please” he mutters and you lick the head flicking your tongue over it.

“What’s next?” You asked as your tongue moves down the length.

“Anemone?” Mattheo asks as he grabs the bedsheets, his head falls back as he groans. You sit straight up and he panics. “Thyme? Occamy?” He grabs your wrist trying to pull you back, he’s aching and he bites your lip. Your head is shaking as you hop off, “Rue!? IS IT FUCKING RUE!?” He calls after you but you’re already walking towards his door giving him a devilish smirk.

“You really should study” you tease leaving him panting helplessly on the bed as he reaches for his potions textbook to find the recipe for Felix Felicis hoping he could still get lucky.

Theodore Nott

Your thighs burned, it was quite a workout. Theo’s head was thudding on the headboard as your rocked your hips back and forth on him. Your ministrations were slow and teasing. His knitted brow, mouth hanging slack as another low groan escaped his lips was worth how absolutely spent you were.

Just when you felt his legs begin to tighten you pulled away giving him a little slap on the cheek.

“Ah fuck” he muttered his eyes nearly rolling back as you ripped another climax away from him. He licked his lips as he looked at you half lidded, “No more teasing, let me fill you up” he muttered in his low voice.

“No” you said haughtily, “why don’t you ask Astoria to?”. Your cheeks were flushed with defiance. You caught them talking, no flirting in the common room.

“I don’t want her baby, I only want you bella” he said in nearly a whiny voice that made you grin.

You sunk back down on his aching, rigid cock as his lips let out another moan.

“Then say my name, and maybe I’ll let you come” you say and snap your hips forward to see if you can chase your own high before you take away his.

Lorenzo Berkshire

Enzo is flattered, tickled even when you tell him you want him to edge you. What the hell were you thinking? This boy researched. For hours. Reading articles, watching porn, asking his friends.

Your legs are tied to his bedposts, Enzo lays between them observing your impossibly wet pussy. It’s been nearly an hour, your back arches as you desperately seek out a means to an end. His fingers swirl around your swollen clit, eliciting a loud moan from you.

Enzo chuckles and dips two fingers into your cunt, listening to how loudly you cry out from barely any movement. The past hour he has edged you so badly, you nearly begin to beg when he pulls away again.

He ghosts his finger over your sensitive bundle of nerves and you come. Hard. You clench around nothing as your body finally gives in at the faintest touch.

“Holy shit,” Enzo says in a low voice. He didn’t mean for you to finish so soon, although just the sight of you letting go is enough to make him want more.

“Let’s do that again” he says.

Draco Malfoy

“Don’t be so impatient love,” Draco whispers as he slides his cock over your aching pussy.

“Once…Draco I said it ONCE,” you whine and your eyes roll back as you bite your bottom lip. Earlier in the day he had tried to pull you away from a conversation with Enzo. You made the mistake of rolling your eyes and telling him to “stop being impatient”.

You try and grind yourself up to meet him but he is quick to shove your hips down and onto the bed as he tuts.

“Baby please” you plead as he brushes a strand of hair out of your face.

“So needy for me pretty girl,” he says and shoves himself forward making you gasp. A few strokes and he’s gone again leaving you nearly clawing at his back for more.

Blaise Zabini

It was time for revenge. After he made you fall apart in the Great Hall you knew you had to get your boyfriend back. It was Friday night and another party in the Slytherin common room was in full swing.

You had on a short, black bodycon dress, no panties. There was work to be done. When you spotted your boyfriend he was laughing with Draco, already a few drinks down.

“I need you baby…now,” you muttered in his ear. He stood nearly immediately and began to lead you to his dorm. You shake your head and pull him down the hall, the sight of the broom closet makes him even more excited. Nothing gets him going like the taboo.

He’s ravaging your lips, neck, chest. When his hands reach your thighs and he realizes you aren’t wearing panties he groans loudly. You hitch your leg up on his waist as he fumbled with his belt. The two of you combined feverishly, he pushes into you with eager strokes.

It’s not long until you hear his breath hitch and you pull away so quickly he is breathless with confusion. You pull away with a wink and open the door, he scrambles to cover himself.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” He asked loudly.

“Save it for later I guess” you call back grinning.

Tom Riddle

“You think,” Tom snapped forward making your hips bite into the desk, “you’re so damn….” He pulled your hair making you flush to his chest, “funny”.

To be fair it was funny. Tom was in the common room, talking to Mattheo and Draco when you sauntered over. You sat on his lap, your lips moving to his ear, “I’m so wet right now,” you mumbled to Mr. No PDA. Tom’s eyes widened as Draco and Mattheo smirked at you straddling his lap.

He dragged you to his room shortly after, immediately bending you over his desk. His hands yanking your panties to the side as he pushed into you at a punishing pace. You weren’t mad about it, in fact it’s what you wanted.

“I am funny,” you tease defiantly. He pulls away turning you to face him. His eyes are pure rage, the quiet kind that actually makes you nervous. Tom lifts you onto the desk, he spread your legs and dropped to his knees, surprising you.

Under a vicelike grip on your thighs, he flutters his tongue softly, almost delicately. Tom does not usually go down on you, even though he is absolutely phenomenal at it. Within minutes you’re trembling, eyes rolling back so close to your orgasm you can nearly taste it.

Then he pulls away, wiping his mouth as he observes at your shocked face. Before you can protest he grins.

“See, I can be funny too”.

—————————————————

Actively taking requests!

[ad-caelestia]

curse removing wash

acts as both a banishment and a cleansing

ingredients

basil (protection)

thyme (cleansing; antimicrobial)

sage (protection + cleansing + banishing; antimicrobial)

rosemary (protection + banishing)

chamomile (cleansing + banishing + peace)

sea salt (protection + banishing)

lavender and eucalyptus oil (cleansing; just a few drops of each)

water

instructions (plan to use immediately; not meant to be stored for later use):

add dried herbs and sea salt to water, boil and reduce to a simmer until the water becomes fragrant and changes color

remove from heat and let cool - strain and pour into a container

add your essential oils, seal the container and shake well

proceed to add this mixture to your soapy mop bucket or spray some on windows, doors, and baseboards to be wiped down

pro tip

open your windows to let the negative energy escape your home as you clean

♡ luna

© 2025 ad-caelestia

[mrdixon]

bread and tomato soup

pairing: established daryl x f!reader

wc: 5.4k

warnings: 18+ content, lots of plot, insecurity, the bath scene, readers on top!, not much of a power dynamic here, but theres teasing, squirting, little teeny bit of fingering, bit of a creampie too, daryl being cute

summary: daryl returns after three weeks, and reader decides to take care of him.

A/N: its january 3rd which means its MY BIRTHDAY :3 so here is just a fic about taking care of daryl in multiple different ways ;3 also just an excuse to talk about food im starving

masterlist

The house smelled of bread, the tap running as you washed your hands under it. Daryl has been on an expedition for about three weeks now, leaving you with nothing else to do but keep yourself busy. You got a lot of stuff done but you were still lonely.

You hummed to yourself as you moved over to the stove, taking a wooden spoon and stirring the tomato soup you were cooking. The sun was just starting to set, golden rays peeked through the curtains to leave kisses on your cheeks when you turned your head to the right. You lifted the spoon up to your lips, savouring the savoury but sweet taste of the soup. Something was missing, perhaps a bit of garlic? Thyme? You put some more of both in, stirring the soup a bit before tasting it again. A smile appeared on your face after deciding it was good enough, turning off the stove and putting the lid on top of the pot.

You bent down to check on the bread in the oven, the smell of sweet yeast filling your nostrils. It was perfect, nicely rounded and crisp on the outside. Closing the oven, you turned it off and reached back to undo your apron.

You almost missed the sound of the door opening, but you didn't. You quickly ran out of the kitchen and towards the entryway, seeing Daryl wiping his boots on the mat. You didn't think twice before jumping at him, hearing a grunt from him as he caught you with one arm, the other holding his bag. You kissed his cheeks repeatedly, his face scrunching up while the hand on your back gently rubbed you.

“Alrigh’ not too much,” he mumbled before setting you down and kissing your forehead. You looked down sheepishly, hugging him again.

“Sorry, I missed you.” You murmured, his calloused hand making its way through your hair while he smiled slightly.

“Dun’ apologize,” he chuckled. He smelled of sweat and mud with a hint of walker blood, but you didn't seem to care at all. The aroma was oddly comforting, and just the presence of him was enough for you. Deciding to revel in the moment, you snuggled into his chest as a soft sigh escaped your lips.

“How was your trip?” You breathed in, taking in his scent. He kept a hand on your lower back, shuffling you both out of the entryway of your home and placing his bag down. He just exhaled deeply at your question, his fingers tightening a little.

“Jus’ ta same ol’ thing.” He mumbled with a bit of a shrug as he let you go, “killed a bunch of walkers, found some supplies. Same ol’ song and dance.” His hand landed on your shoulder and gave you a reassuring squeeze after noticing your concern. You however did not let it go.

“What’s wrong, hm?” You brought your arms up to his shoulders, looking up at him. He sighed, wrapping his own arms around your waist as his gaze darted around the house. His brows furrowed slightly, his expression changing.

“Nothin’, nothin’..” he muttered shaking his head, “jus’ got a lot in my head.” You frowned but didn't want to press further, instead nodding and moving away to let him get settled.

Daryl’s jaw clenched as he watched you move away from him, feeling slightly disappointed that the physical contact was broken. The moment quickly passed as his head perked up at the smell of freshly baked bread. You noticed his expression and chuckled, taking his hand.

“Want me to run you a bath? You can eat afterwards,” you smiled softly at him. He visibly tensed at the mention of a bath, his hand squeezing yours.

“Nah, ‘m good.” He sniffed, wiping his nose. You scrunched up your nose, chuckling.

“You sure? You’ve been out for three weeks, you're dirty.” You snorted, looking him up and down. You were right, his clothes were gross and probably stinky, his hair disheveled. “You're taking a bath, come.” You gently tugged him along with you.

“Alright… I’ll… I’ll take a bath,” he grumbled, his tone laced with annoyance. You rubbed his hand gently and entered the bathroom with him.

Daryl sighed heavily and his shoulders slumped, but he allowed himself to be dragged around by you. He stood by the counter while you went to fill up the bath with warm water, eventually returning back to him. You placed your hands on the buttons of his vest, looking up at him for permission to undress him.

His eyes shifted to the side slightly, uncomfortable under your scrutiny. His expression changed once your nimble fingers started unbuttoning his vest slowly, and after looking into your eyes for a few seconds more, he looked away and muttered, “go for it.”

You smiled at him softly, letting his vest fall to the floor before starting at his button-up. He stood by silently, watching you undress him without making any comments. The process felt slightly intimate and he felt a warm feeling in his stomach as he looked over you, and he didn't protest or try to stop you from doing your thing.

You let his shirt fall next to his vest, letting your fingers trace along the muscles of his arm, watching them tense under your graze. His breath hitched as your fingers danced down his sides, landing on his holster belt. You carefully unbuckled it and placed it on the counter.

He shifted his weight, continuing to stand silent as you did what you wanted. He couldn’t ignore the feelings of intimacy beginning to rise within him. Your hands slid back down to the belt holding up his pants, unbuckling it with practiced skill. Your fingers soon unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, letting it fall to the floor. Daryl shivered lightly at the sudden coolness on his skin, looking down at you for a moment, his expression shifting slightly at how eager you seemed to be at undressing him.

You looked up at him briefly before pulling down his boxers, looking away to give him some sort of privacy. He quickly turned towards the mirror, seemingly avoiding his image as he turned away just as quick. You turned back to him and smiled softly, taking his hand and kissing it gently. He felt his skin warming up and his cheeks flushed slightly, you’ve seen him naked before but this felt more intimate… somehow. The situation made him feel quite vulnerable, but despite his discomfort he remained silent and still.

You squeezed his hand reassuringly and led him towards the tub. Daryl followed you, feeling a tingle in his abdomen from the butterflies you arouse in him. He stepped into the bath, groaning softly once he sunk down into the waiting water. His eyes closed, letting out a sigh of relief as he relaxed in the warmth of the bath. You leaned over to turn off the tap, letting him sit in silence.

“Wait here? I’m just gonna put your clothes away and get you some new ones,” you murmured softly, watching his eyes peek open to look at you. He nodded contently, closing his eyes again. You nodded and left the bathroom quietly with his dirty clothes.

Daryl sat in the bath, leaning back against the rim. He was starting to feel more and more relaxed by the minute as he let the warm water wash away some of the filth on his skin. He sat patiently for a few minutes while waiting for your return.

You came back into the bathroom, some clean clothes and a rag in hand. The clean clothes were placed on the counter while the rag remained in your hand as you walked over to the tub, kneeling down next to it.

“Mind if I wash you?” You hummed. Daryl’s eyes flickered up to you for a moment, his face lightly flushed as he felt a little insecure about his body.

“Sure… go for it,” he grumbled hesitantly, his eyes looking away. You smiled reassuringly, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. You lifted the rag and began slowly by scrubbing his chest, followed by his arms. Daryl flinched slightly at the touch, his muscles rippled and tightened as you grazed over his flesh. He forced himself to stay still, but even that was a lot to bear sometimes. With each stroke of the rag, his breath hitched.

“Relax,” you coaxed quietly into his ear. “Lean forward, lemme get your back.”

Daryl frowned slightly but obeyed your instruction, leaning forward in the tub to expose his back to you. He bit his lip nervously, though you’ve seen them before, he was still self-conscious about the scars on his body.

He grimaced whenever you would brush over the scarred skin, making the scars feel more pronounced. He hated the reminder of his past, always trying to run from it. But he loved you, and he knew that letting you see him like this was a way of accepting what happened and moving forward with his life. He wasn't used to this physical intimacy, but he felt okay being vulnerable with you.

You made sure to be gentle, and your soft actions didn't go unnoticed by him. Daryl let himself relax and reminded himself you were safe, letting go of the tension in his body as you washed away the dirt left on him. You kissed his shoulder sweetly, letting your free hand come up to run through his tangled hair.

“Okay, lean back.” You whispered softly, a gentle hand pushing him back. He complied once again, sighing softly as he felt your fingers combing through his thick hair trying to loosen the knots.

The two of you stayed silent throughout the exchange, the only noise was the water occasionally splashing or dripping. Your touch was comforting despite his initial discomfort, he began to sink into the water while his muscles relaxed. You were the first to break the comfortable silence.

“I need to drain the water, I’ll put some more since I still need to wash your hair. Unless you wanna get out now?” You hummed quietly, making sure not to startle him by the sudden noise. He shifted slightly and used his arm to prop himself up so he could sit.

“’s up to ya,” he mumbled. “I wouldn’ mind stayin’ in ‘ere longer, but I dun’ want ya ta have ta wait on me.” He rubbed his bottom lip anxiously, nibbling on the inside of it.

“I don't mind,” you smiled while shaking your head. You reached into the tub to drain the dirty water before grabbing the shower head and beckoning him closer, “let me wash your hair first.”

He looked at you for a long moment, nodding cautiously as he scooted over to you, bowing his head. You turned on the shower head, rinsing his hair so it was damp before taking some shampoo and lathering it into his hair. You soothingly scratched your nails against his scalp. His eyes shut tight, letting himself relax as you scrubbed his hair clean. The soothing sensation felt nice, although he couldn't deny how it made him feel…

You pulled your hands out of his hair to rinse out the shampoo. Daryl sat stoically, trying to rid himself of certain thoughts, his breathing deepened however as you washed his hair. The warm water and your touch sent a wave of chills down his spine. You soon turned off the water and fixed his wet hair so it was out his face, filling the tub with warm water again.

His mind started wandering again, his eyes darting around as you fixed his hair. It felt weird to have someone do something like this for him, but he didn't mind it. He trusted you, he loved you, and you helped him feel comfortable and safe in his own skin. He let his thoughts melt away into mush as he enjoyed the warmth of the water and the soft touches your fingers were giving to his hair.

“Gimme a kiss?” You smiled softly, leaning forward. He froze for a moment, intimidated by the sudden request, his face flushing. He thought for a moment if he wanted to, of course he did, but he wasn't big on physicality.

He grumbled nervously, looking away from your expectant eyes. Your smile faltered slightly, and he noticed. You pulled back and got up.

“Never mind, just holler when you're done.” You walked over to the door, “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

He awkwardly watched you walk away, clenching his fists. He felt guilty, he shouldn't but he still felt bad for rejecting you. The truth was, he really did want to kiss you.

“Wait!” He called out, watching you poke your head back in.

“Hm?”

Daryl was hesitant in the moment, not wanting to embarrass himself further. Still, he felt the need to explain himself. “’s not tha’ I dun’ wan’ ta kiss ya,” he said softly and let his shoulders sink into the water. “’s jus’ tha’…”

You cut him off, kneeling by the tub again while caressing the back of his head. “Don’t worry about it, you don't have to kiss me if you don't want to.” You smiled sweetly up at him.

He exhaled softly at your response, licking his lips. He knew you were trying to make him feel better, but he still heard the genuine reassurance.

“But I do,” he whispered. “Can we uh… can we maybe try somethin’?” You hummed in response and knelt up to his level.

His breathing deepened at the sight of you, years of being married to you and he still felt weak in the knees every time he saw you. He felt a nervous excitement in his stomach, much like the feeling he had asking you to marry him. Your eyes flickered closed as he started to lean in, his closing too. When his hands came up, his fingers found your neck and traced your jawline softly. Your body felt familiar and warm, inviting in every way. You leaned closer, and he was worried you could hear his heart beating a million miles a minute. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. Your breath against his lips made him tremble.

Your lips met softly, and you sighed into the kiss. It’s been three weeks since you two had kissed, and you needed this. You needed the reassurance he still loved you like you loved him.

And of course he did, he never stopped loving you since the day you met. His lips felt soft on yours, warm breaths filling you both with tenderness. But most of all, it felt so natural.

His eyes kept closed, not wanting to disrupt the moment. He wanted to get lost in the moment, to forget everything in the world and focus on the way you made him feel.

Eventually, you pulled back, smoothening your hand over his hair as you stood up. “I’ll be in the kitchen, want me to help you get out and change, or do you think you can manage?”

“I wan’ yer help,” he said shyly, slowly looking up at you. “If ya dun’ mind doin’ tha’.”

“Of course, you wanna get out now or soak for a little bit longer?” You smiled at him while combing through his hair. He chuckled and nodded, he wanted to finish this up quickly.

“I wanna get out, then we can get ta cuddlin’ or somethin’.” He smirked, chuckling when you slapped his shoulder lightly. You went to drain the water before moving towards the counter to grab his towel. He followed after you, groaning softly as he stood up and walked over to you. His body shivered slightly as he held his arms up, letting you towel him off. You kept him warm and comfortable, his eyes trailing over the way your lashes curled, his muscles relaxing again as you finished.

You smiled up at him and pecked his lips briefly before handing him his boxers, seeing his eyes flicker with desire at the slight touch on his lips. He took his underwear and slipped them on, feeling butterflies swarm in his belly. You handed him some sweatpants, followed by his shirt. He pulled on his clothes, sighing on relief as he was fully covered again.

“There we go,” you murmured. “We can get to cuddling in a bit, you hungry?” You grinned knowing very well he was quite hungry after his trip. Your suspicions were correct when his stomach growled on cue, his head nodding curtly.

“Tha’d be nice…” he glanced down at you. “Then we can cuddle after?” You nodded and led him out of the bathroom, into the kitchen where you had set up a plate of bread and tomato soup. His eyes widened when he saw his plate of food, the freshly baked bread making a delightful assault on his senses.

“Smells amazin’,” he chuckled and sat down at the table, “ya made this?” He asked, dipping his bread in the soup and savouring each bite.

“Mhm,” you smiled warmly as you took your own plate and sat in front of him. You both sat in warm silence, enjoying each other’s company as you both continued to eat. He felt your warmth and love just from the way you cooked this meal for him.

“Thank you fer this,” he mumbled, finishing up his food. You hummed in response, taking both your plates over to the sink.

“It’s not much,” you shrugged as you washed the dishes. As you washed your dishes, Daryl’s mind began to wander. You cooked dinner, gave him a bath, helped him change, been so attentive and caring, but you didn't seem to want anything in return. He wanted to repay you for your kindness, for making him feel comfortable and safe in your hands. He wasn't sure what to do, but he knew he wanted to make you feel appreciated.

“We can cuddle now,” you turned to him, wiping your hands. He nodded lightly, his eyes roaming over your figure as he walked over to you. He felt pleasant with a sense of fullness, his arms wrapping around your waist tightly as you both walked towards your bedroom. You let him sit on the bed first, kissing his forehead. “Hang on, just gotta change into my slip.” He nodded, sitting at the foot of the bed while waiting for you to come back.

You soon emerged from the closet, wearing a deep red slip dress. His eyes locked on you and they widened at the sight, swallowing as you got closer to him.

“Ya look beautiful,” he breathed as you stood in front of him, his head tilted back to look up at you, placing his hands on your hips. You sighed softly when he pulled you onto his lap, his fingers tracing up and down your thighs, your body fitting perfectly with his.

“I missed you,” you whispered, a slight pout on your face as you let your fingertips rest on his cheeks.

“I missed ya too,” he whispered back, the feeling of being empty and lonely without you slowly ebbing away. He leaned in, kissing you gently. The intimacy finding its way into him again, the comforting feeling of your body on his was warm and welcoming.

You kissed him back, your hands moving down to rest on his shoulders. His hands moved from your hips, up to your waist, rubbing circles into your sides with his thumbs. He wanted to make up for lost time.

The atmosphere suddenly felt hotter, your kisses getting more desperate and intense while his hands moved back down to your hips. He pulled you closer onto him, pulling your body flush against his. You groaned into his mouth as you started rocking your hips against his, hearing him groan as well. The arousal between the two of you started to rise, the intensity of your grinding made your slip ride up. Daryl groaned at the sight of your full, plush thighs, his erection pressing against you. You were so delicate, but so eager.

Each movement you made, sent waves of pleasure up his body. His hands gripped tight onto your thighs, grunting against your neck as you pulled him close. The more you ground against him, the more your slip rode up and revealed your panties.

His breath hitched as you continued to roll your hips, he leaned back on his elbows and looked up at you. The way your lips were parted, the sight of your flimsy underwear eliciting a moan from him. His dick grew harder as his entire body trembled with arousal, placing one hand on your hip.

“Fuck… yer so sexy,” he bit her lip, pushing your slip up with one large hand. He sat up to fully remove your slip, tossing it onto the floor and immediately ravishing your breasts. You yelped, a hand moving to the back of his head as his mouth sucked on the flesh on your chest.

A soft breathy moan left your lips as his mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, biting down gently. One of his hands moved to squeeze your ass, lifting you up slightly before directly placing you atop his erection. You whined at the feeling, squirming on him. He growled against your breast, squeezing the other as he lifted his head to look at you.

“Go on baby, do yer thing.” He whispered breathlessly, watching you grind down on him. Your panties shifted whenever you moved, letting him get a glimpse of your folds. He kept his eyes on your mound, reaching forward to rub circles over your clothed clit. You let out a mewl, biting your lip.

Evidence of your arousal quickly seeped through the thin fabric shielding yourself, smearing over his sweatpants the harder you grounded. Daryl let out a deep groan of approval, taking his thumb away from your clit and licking the wetness off of it. You almost felt yourself squirt right there but you held off, pushing him down onto his back.

He grunted at the gesture, grabbing your hips but grinning as you pushed his hands away. He just sighed and lay back, looking down as you got off of him to pull his pants and boxers off. He groaned at the feeling of his cock springing out, slapping against his stomach. He tried to sit up again but you wouldn't let him, instead pulling off your panties and sitting on his lower stomach. He smirked up at you, his gaze wandering up and down your body.

“Let me sit up, I wanna touch ya properly.” He chuckled, gaining a nod of approval. He quickly sat up, his hands on your ass as he shuffled you both onto the bed. He moved the pillows to the side and sat against the headboard, grinning cheekily at you. You giggled back at him, feeling his cock twitch against your ass. “Gonna take care of me?”

“You bet your ass I’m gonna,” you sneered, reaching behind you to run your fingers along his length. He hissed through his teeth, narrowing his eyes as he looked right at you. His grip tightened on your ass, a low growl in his throat as he waited for you to take this further.

You took the hint, lifting yourself up and grabbing onto his length firmly. Daryl’s breath hitched as he reached out to spread your folds with his thumb, licking his lips at how wet you were. His thumb drifted towards your clit again, drawing out a whine from you. He chuckled at your desperation, thinking he had the upper hand, but you quickly proved him otherwise.

Instead of sinking down on him like he thought you were going to, you ran his tip along your slit, circling your clit. You caught the way his eyes rolled back and his fingers twitched, a soft whimper escaping his lips. You smirked a little, letting his tip invade through your entrance, quickly pulling it out. He growled at your teasing, grabbing your hips and trying to push you down onto his cock.

“Nuh uh Dixon, patience.” You coaxed, caressing his hair. He grumbled, letting go of your hips and letting his hands fall by his side. You continued with the slight teasing, letting the head of his cock in and out, just the tip nothing more. He threw his head back, closing his eyes as his body trembled with the need to just flip you over and take you the way he needed. But he relented and let you do your thing.

You watched as his chest heaved with every heavy breath he took, leaning down to kiss his forehead. He closed his mouth at the gesture, sighing softly as the same butterflies swarmed in his belly again. The feeling of your love was too much for him, the tenderness of it all putting him at ease. At this moment you decided it would be a good time to slam down onto him, evoking a loud moan from both of you. His brows furrowed as he felt your walls flutter around his length, his hands squeezing your hips as to stabilize himself. He almost came right there, the both of you had been deprived of intimacy for three weeks. So you both knew this wouldn't last long.

“Jesus… fuckin’ christ woman,” he groaned. “Ya made me hit my head on the headboard.” You stifled a laugh, earning a glare from him. His hands played around the small of your back, leaning in to kiss you.

You met his lips with equal need, parting your lips to let his tongue slither in. The taste of bread and tomato soup lingering on his tongue. As you two made out, you tested the waters by inching him out slowly and inching him back in. He pulled away from the kiss, his eyes still closed by his face twitched before landing in the crook of your neck. You smiled and wrapped your arms around his head, his arms wrapping around your back as you moved slowly. His breath was hot and heavy and you could hear the occasional whimper and whine from him whenever you’d swivel your hips. You let yourself go and let out your own moans, his hands dancing along your back as you rolled your hips.

Your clit rubbed on the tuff of hair above his cock, moaning wildly at the sensation. His lips kept busy as he sucked the skin on your neck, biting and leaving marks on the blank canvas. Your nails dug into his shoulders, feeling him tense at the feeling but not protesting.

“Ah… Dar,” you breathed. The nickname slipped off the tip of your tongue so naturally, you felt his cock twitch against your walls. His hands rested on your back, leaning back to then dive in between your breasts. He raised his hands to squish the two mounds of flesh together, kissing each nipple softly. You let out a breathless giggle, curling your fingers into his hair. He peered up at you through his eyebrows, licking up the curve of your breast and swirling around the nipple, his thumb doing the same to the other.

You sighed, throwing your head back and closing your eyes and you started to lift yourself up and down on his length. Feeling the way you contracted around his cock, hearing the hiss from his mouth. He let your breasts go, his hands drifting down to your ass once again. He gently guided you up and down his cock, biting his lip to muffled his moans.

Daryl’s hand came to rub your clit again, this time harder than before. Your hips jerked forward, whining at the sensitive feeling. “C’mon, ‘m gonna cum… wan’ ya ta cum wit’ me.” He groaned into your hair.

You nodded, your eyes still closed as you rode him faster. The way you tightened around him allowed you to feel every inch and every vein on his cock, the head brushing against your sweet spot with every rock of your hips. Your mouth fell open to let out whatever noises you could make in the moment, one of your hands on the back of his neck while the other remained tangled in his hair.

You rode him hard, the bed rocking with every movement and the headboard hit the wall a few times. Yet the sound of your moans reverberated through the room, your noises going straight to Daryl’s cock as he bucked his hips up into you. The way he did it allowed him to hit your sweet spot perfectly, and also threw you off the edge.

Stars were all you could see as your movements halted, your mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure as you came. But he didn't yet.

“Fuck… ya came without me?” He growled, biting your shoulder before pushing you down onto your back and ramming himself in and out of your sensitive cunt. This time the cry that sounded from your mouth was louder than ever, your head thrown back while your hands dropped to your sides and gripped onto the sheets. Your walls clamped down on his length, the sensitivity too much for you as you felt a second orgasm rapidly building up. But the heat was too much.

Daryl’s hands squeezed your waist, letting out a shout as he came inside you, still thrusting himself in and out of you to bring out your second orgasm. Your eyes rolled back and your moan came out as a deep groan, this time fluids rushed out of your wet heat and spilling onto his thighs and the sheets, soiling them completely. He gasped, panting heavily as the sight. He couldn't resist and you felt a finger or two slip into you, the wet sounds totally erotic. He fingered you through the intense orgasm, groaning at how wet and slick you were.

You let yourself sink into the bed, closing your eyes, and his fingers eventually slipped out of you. His eyes stayed on your figure, the hickeys on your neck and chest, your pussy and thighs glistening with your wet arousal. You felt him kiss your lips softly, kissing your cheekbone before slowly leaving you on the bed.

You sighed and just lay there, naked and sprawled over the bed like some porno. But when you heard the sound of water rushing from the bathroom, you smiled and felt even warmer than you already did.

“Time fer yer bath,” Daryl’s voice made you open your eyes, craning your head to see him walk over to you. He smiled down at you before picking you up bridal style and carrying you towards the bathroom. You glanced up at him sleepily, pushing yourself up to kiss his jaw, his stubble prickly against your lips. He squeezed you tightly in response, kicking the bathroom door open and placing you in the warm bath. “I’ll be righ’ there ta join ya, jus’ gotta change the sheets.”

You nodded in response, leaning against the rim of the tub and closing your eyes. His hand came up to rub your head gently before scurrying out of the bathroom. You breathed softly, your stomach in pleasant knots at how much you adored your husband. Letting yourself soak in the warm water as your body felt lighter.

You almost flinched when you felt a body slip in next to you, Daryl was way too quiet sometimes. He gently maneuvered you so you sat on his lap, your back on his chest. He wrapped his arms around your midsection, turning his head to kiss your neck softly. You smiled contently, snuggling into him as you both melted into the warm water.

“I love you,” you murmured hoarsely.

“I love ya too,” he responded just as gruff, squeezing you gently as he placed another kiss on your neck. You both sat in silent, just soaking in each other's love and warmth, his fingers rubbing your back to rid of the soreness he may have put on you.

“I’m hungry,” you mumbled and felt his chest rumble against your back as he laughed.

“I’ll heat ya up some of tha’ bread and tomato soup. How’s tha’ sound?” His whisper made you shiver delightedly.

“Sounds perfect.” You whispered back, and leaned against his shoulder.

[rozecrest]

hold out if you can hold out my sweet -> i am married just not to a man -> as you abandoned me. you did, don’t deny it, stop those lightning bolt looks at me, i won’t have it -> you were devoted to glinda you were everyone knew -> [the night elphaba is “vanquished”] lady glinda had a bad night, a night of shakes and regret and pain; she guessed it was the early signs of gout from her rich diet. but she sat up half the night and lit a candle in a window, for reasons she couldn’t articulate. the moon passed overhead in its path from the vinkus, and she felt its accusatory spotlight, and moved back from the tall windows. -> “tell me what you need, tell me why i should help, and i’ll see what I can do. in memory of elphaba. you knew her.” her head tilted again, but up, this time, and it was to keep the sudden wetness from spilling into her carefully colored false eyelashes. “you knew my elphie!” + her hands reached out hungrily for the cape and rubbed its hem, as if it were leaves of thyme or hyssop. + glinda reached out and took the charred broomstick and cradled it. -> “oh, oh,” she managed, “i don’t know that i’ll see you again…and you remind me so of her.” + “her power was only part of it,” said glinda. “she was brave, and so are you.” -> [at the mauntery of saint glinda] i suppose i shouldn’t be surprised to find you here. after all, elphaba was here for a while, you know. it’s one of the reasons i like to support it. + glinda closed her breviary with a little slap. she hadn’t been attending closely to her devotions anyway. “that pesky slogan you see scrawled everywhere is right. she does live, you know. she does.” + glinda raised her chin. “no, liir. she lives. people sing of her. you wouldn’t guess it, being you—but they do. there’s a musical noise around her name; there are things people remember, and pass on.” + you refuse to be consoled, don’t you? well, that’s as much proof as i could ever need that you’re kin to her. she was the same way. the very same way. -> she called her name sleepily and added you wicked thing you’ve taken your sweet time of course

[leirastar]

new world | chapter 5

Pairing: Ot8 Ateez x reader AU: fantasy AU | stranger -> mates Summary: A tragic accident left you unable to use your wings and, with that, claimed your father's life, leaving you in the care of your noble uncle. In Hala, a house of eight kingdoms, each boasting its own wonders, you never imagined that amidst the pain, you would also fall—this time, in love. Word Count: 2.9k | 13 minutes A/n: YAYY ANOTHER CHAPTER! I've kept this in the draft for way too long! i lowkey want to just release all the chapters i've written. BUT i want you to wait a little..just a little longer HIHI. BTW GUYS WHY CAN'T I REPLY TO ANY OF YOUR COMMENT? PLEASE HELP ME OUT! Warning: mentions of hospitals, bad weather, AND YUNHO JEALOUS. KIND OF?

The days after Yunho’s visit felt unusually quiet. A few letters had arrived by an owl with soft, silver-tipped wings—you had affectionately named her Snow after the gentle way she flew, gliding through the cold air like a wisp of moonlight. The letters were brief but warm: updates on Reed, musings on the cold weather, and simple questions that made you smile.

But then, two days passed without a letter.

and you found yourself standing in the field, hands brushing over fresh thyme, as you tried to shake the restless feeling gnawing at your chest. You’re obsessed, you thought, scolding yourself, though the words felt hollow. It wasn’t as though you could help it; Yunho lingered in your thoughts like the scent of summer rain, impossible to forget. He was everywhere in your mind, in the quiet moments when you worked or the still hours before dawn. You could still hear his voice sometimes, soft and steady, and picture the way his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners when he smiled.

The wind was brisk today, the chill seeping in from Reed’s borders. The weather in Caius had turned slightly colder, a quiet herald of the upcoming winter, its edge sharpening the air as it rolled in from the north. You were near the eastern edge of Caius, where the terrain dipped and rolled toward the sea. Beyond the safe, fertile fields of your home lay treacherous waters, made colder and darker by the proximity to Reed.

Today, you were gathering herbs to bring to a border hospital where soldiers often fell ill from exposure.

It’ll be a long ride, you thought. I should leave soon.

You bundled the thyme carefully, your fingers working the stems with a practiced rhythm. Around you, the fields were alive with subtle sounds—the rustling of grass, the distant caw of gulls carried on the wind. Normally, the peace would soothe you, but today, something felt different. Off. It was as though the very air carried a charge, an invisible hum that raised the hairs on your arms.

Straightening, you shielded your eyes with your hand and turned toward the horizon. The sun hung low and bright, casting long shadows across the earth, but there—just for a moment—you saw it. A shadow passed over you, swift and silent, darkening the patch of earth where you knelt.

You froze.

Slowly, you looked up, squinting into the sunlight, and your breath caught.

Yunho stood at the edge of the field, cloaked in muted gray, his tall form striking against the pale sky. The wind tugged at his cloak and dark hair, but his face was calm, almost serene, as though he had been walking through the fields for hours. A faint smile pulled at his lips, so familiar and yet so unexpected that you could only stare. In his hand, he held a small bundle of herbs—rare ones, with deep green stems and silvery flowers that shimmered faintly in the sunlight.

“Hard to find this time of year,” he said lightly, his voice carrying over the wind as he held them out to you.

You rose to your feet slowly, the earth firm beneath your boots as you closed the distance between you. Your fingers brushed his as you took the herbs, and you startled at how cold his skin felt, chilled from Reed’s borders.

“Where—how did you get these?”

“Reed’s borders are colder, but you’d be surprised what grows there when you know where to look.”

You turned the small bundle over in your hands, marveling at it. The flowers were delicate, yet they held a vitality that belied the harshness of the environment they came from. Yunho’s quiet attentiveness never ceased to surprise you; how did he always seem to know exactly what you needed before you did?

“I didn’t expect you,” you admitted, your voice softer than you intended.

“Should I apologize for the surprise?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his tone.

“No.” You shook your head quickly, warmth curling through you like a hearth fire against the cold. “I was… going to the hospital near the border. There are soldiers there who need these.”

At the mention of the outskirts, Yunho’s expression shifted slightly, his brow furrowing faintly in concern. “The border?” He paused, his gaze holding yours. “Then I’ll join you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he said simply, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You opened your mouth to protest again, but the words faltered on your tongue. There was a calm determination in Yunho’s eyes that you recognized all too well. Once he made up his mind, there was no changing it. Instead, you let out a quiet sigh and looked away, back toward the sea where the faint mist gathered on the horizon. “It’s not an easy ride. The terrain gets rough the closer we get to the border.”

“I’ve made harder rides,” Yunho replied, the faintest smile tugging at his lips again.

You couldn’t help but smile back, despite yourself. “Suit yourself.”

He fell into step beside you as you walked back toward where your horses waited, tethered near the edge of the fields. The silence between you was comfortable, broken only by the crunch of grass beneath your boots and the distant call of the sea. You felt Yunho’s presence like a steady warmth at your side, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

Surprisingly, you had always brought two horses during your journeys to the outskirts—one for yourself and the other to carry more herbs and supplies for the soldiers in the hospital. The second horse, a sturdy gelding with a speckled coat, had been borrowed from a friend of your uncle’s back in Caius. He stood quietly nearby, his dark eyes calm and steady as the cold wind ruffled his mane.

Yunho glanced at the gelding, his brow lifting faintly. “Prepared as always, I see.”

You smiled lightly, brushing your hand over the horse’s neck. “He’s reliable. And strong enough to carry more than I need.”

He let out a soft hum of approval, stepping closer to check the saddlebags. “It’s a good habit to be over-prepared.”

“It’s not over-preparedness,” you replied with mock indignation, adjusting the straps. “It’s practical kindness.”

Yunho’s lips curved slightly, the expression softening his otherwise stoic features. The way he looked at you—steady and thoughtful—made something in your chest tighten unexpectedly. “Kindness suits you,” he said quietly.

You looked away quickly, cheeks warming as you busied yourself with the straps of your saddle. “Come on, We’ll make better time if we leave now.”

With the horse ready, you moved to mount, but before you could, Yunho stepped forward, his hands suddenly—yet gently—grasping your waist.

“Let me,” he murmured, his voice low.

Before you had a chance to protest, he lifted you with effortless strength, plopping you onto the saddle as though you weighed nothing. The brief contact was enough to steal your breath, the warmth of his touch lingering long after his hands dropped away.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you stared down at him, wide-eyed. Yunho only offered a faint, knowing smile before turning to his own horse.

“Ready?” he asked casually, as if nothing had happened.

You swallowed, cheeks warm, and managed a shaky, “Y-Yes.”

With that, he swung up onto the gelding, settling beside you like he belonged there, leaving you with your pulse still fluttering wildly. The sight of him on the gelding was a little surreal—A diplomat of Reed, so at ease on a borrowed Caius horse—but you supposed there was little that could rattle him.

As you untied your horse and began preparing for the journey, Yunho took a step closer, his golden gaze scanning the sky. “The wind’s picked up,” he murmured. “We should leave soon if we want to avoid the worst of it.”

You glanced at him, surprise flickering in your chest. “You’re familiar with Caius’s winds now?”

“Not as familiar as you,” he admitted with a slight shrug. “But I’m learning.”

The quiet sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, sending a small ripple through your chest. You looked away quickly, pretending to adjust your reins, though the faint heat on your cheeks betrayed you.

“Ready?” you asked over your shoulder.

“Lead the way.”

And so you did, guiding the horse down the familiar trails that led to the outskirts. The road to the border hospital was long and winding, cutting through Caius’s fertile fields before giving way to the rugged, colder outskirts. The sea grew louder the further you traveled, its dark waters visible now through breaks in the terrain. The ride was long and cold, but Yunho’s presence—steady and unspoken—made the journey feel far less lonely, his quiet companionship both comforting and maddening.

“You don’t need to follow me, you know,” you said, breaking the companionable silence as the wind tugged at your cloak.

“I already told you,” Yunho replied smoothly. “I’m not following you—I’m protecting you.”

You rolled your eyes. “From what, Yunho? Overgrown roots?”

He smirked faintly. “If they try to trip you, I’ll deal with them swiftly.”

You huffed a laugh despite yourself, though you didn’t miss the way Yunho’s gaze stayed sharp and ever-watching. He took everything in—the frost-kissed trees, the distant hills, and even the quiet, shadowed patches of the path—as if he were on guard for something you couldn’t see.

As you neared the hospital, the winds turned colder, the air sharper. From this far east, you could see the faint mist rising from the distant seas—the treacherous waters near Reed’s border.

“I didn’t realize how often you made this trip,” Yunho murmured, his voice carrying over the wind.

“Someone has to,” you replied softly. “Soldiers give up a lot to protect the borders. It’s only right they’re cared for when they’re wounded.”

Yunho didn’t respond right away. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary before he turned back to the path ahead.

When you arrived at the hospital, the smell of herbs and wood smoke greeted you. The building wasn’t grand—just a few interconnected rooms with thick stone walls and sturdy beams—but it was warm and alive with movement. Healers bustled from bed to bed, soft murmurs and quiet groans filling the air.

Mistress Calla, the head healer, spotted you as soon as you entered. Her face brightened, and she strode toward you with open arms, pulling you into a quick, firm hug.

“Y/N, there you are!” she said warmly, releasing you to examine the basket slung over your arm. “You’ve come at just the right time. The fevers have been worse this week, and we’re nearly out of thyme and elderleaf.”

You handed her a bundle of the fresh herbs Yunho had helped you gather. “These should last you a little while. I’ll check on the soldiers in a moment.”

But Mistress Calla’s gaze flickered past you, and her lips curled into a knowing smile. “And who’s this?”

You turned, realizing Yunho was standing just behind you, his expression carefully neutral as Mistress Calla appraised him.

“This is Yunho,” you said quickly. “A friend.”

“A friend?” Calla’s voice lilting with mischief, her brow arching in a way that made your cheeks heat. “Well, I don’t remember your friends looking quite like that. Tall, dark, and handsome, is he?”

You shot her a look. “Calla…”

“I’m just saying,” she continued unabashedly, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper as Yunho busied himself glancing around the room. “You’ve got half the soldiers in here sighing after you like love-sick pups, and now you bring a knight through my doors? What’s the story, Y/N?”

“There’s no story,” you said firmly, though your face betrayed you with a rising flush. “Stop it. I need to get to work.”

Mistress Calla chuckled, giving your arm a pat. “Fine, fine. Go tend to your wounded boys. Just don’t forget the tall one standing right there.”

You shot her a glare that only made her grin more widely before turning toward the soldier’s recovery room, shaking your head. Yunho glanced at you curiously, his golden gaze searching your expression.

“What was that about?” he asked quietly.

“Nothing.” You brushed him off quickly. “Come on. Let’s check on the soldiers.”

As you stepped into the soldiers’ recovery room, quiet conversations died away, replaced by soft murmurs and shifting glances. You were a familiar sight here—someone who brought care, kindness, and a bit of light into their weary days.

“Ah, it’s her,” one whispered, nudging his companion. “She’s back again,” another murmured, his voice holding the edge of awe. It wasn’t uncommon—your visits often stirred soft whispers, your presence like a fleeting light among them. You moved between beds, greeting patients and checking wounds. Yunho followed at a measured distance, his presence drawing lingering glances from both soldiers and nurses alike.

“Is that her escort?” you heard one whisper.

“Lucky man,” another murmured, their tone tinged with something you couldn’t quite place.

At the word escort, you noticed—just barely—that Yunho’s chest puffed up a little, his posture shifting with an unconscious pride. It was subtle, yet unmistakable, as though being called your escort had released a feeling inside him he couldn’t quite place.

At one cot, you stopped to tend to Eli. He sat up straighter when he saw you, his youthful face flushing red. Barely older than nineteen, he was all sharp features and nervous hands, his usual bravado faltering whenever you were around.

“Eli,” you said softly, kneeling by his side. “How’s your side today?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, his voice cracking just slightly. “Be-Better now. It’s always better when you’re here.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “You say that every time.”

“It’s true every time,” Eli mumbled, glancing away as you carefully checked the healing wound beneath his bandage.

You smiled softly, noting how well the wound was healing. “You’re recovering nicely. You’ll be back on your feet soon.”

“I—I wouldn’t mind staying a little longer if it means I get to see you.” His voice was quiet, shy, and you could feel Yunho’s gaze sharpen from across the room. You laughed lightly, brushing it off.

“You’ll get yourself back on patrol soon enough, Eli.”

“Only if you promise to visit,” he blurted, the words rushing out before he could stop them.

You opened your mouth to respond when you felt it—Yunho’s gaze. Glancing back, you found him near the door, his expression unreadable, though something sharp flickered in the way his eyes lingered on Eli. The soft sound of Yunho’s boots echoed through the quiet room as he stepped forward, his tall figure looming nearby. Eli glanced up sharply, his flush deepening as Yunho’s tall figure loomed nearby.

“Are you finished?” Yunho’s voice was calm, but there was something deliberate about the way he said it. You blinked, surprised. “Almost—” “I’ll wait outside,” he said shortly, turning on his heel and disappearing through the door without another word.

You frowned after him, his abrupt exit leaving you slightly unsettled. Turning back to Eli, you forced a gentle smile. “Rest up,” you said softly as you adjusted his blanket. “You’re healing well, but don’t overdo it, alright?”

Eli gave you a small nod, though his gaze flickered briefly to the door where Yunho had disappeared. “Is… he always like that?”

You let out a soft laugh, brushing off the question. “Don’t worry about him. Just focus on getting better.”

As you finished tending to the other soldiers, Yunho lingered in the back of your mind. You moved through the motions with practiced ease, but every quiet corner and every whispered conversation seemed to amplify his absence. When you finally stepped outside into the crisp evening air, you found him saddling the horses.

He worked in silence, hands moving efficiently as he tightened the straps and adjusted the reins. His face was calm—neutral, even—but the faint tension in his jaw gave him away.

“You didn’t have to leave so abruptly,” you said, stepping closer.

Yunho glanced up, his golden-brown gaze catching the fading light. “I thought you’d prefer to work without distractions.”

“You weren’t distracting me.”

He didn’t reply, only finishing with the saddle before offering you a hand up. You took it, his grip firm and warm, but the silence that followed felt heavier than before.

The sun dipped lower as you rode home, the sky streaked in amber and violet. Shadows stretched across the rolling hills, and the sharp, crisp air carried whispers of Reed’s colder winds. Yunho rode beside you, quiet and watchful, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

It was an easy silence, one you had grown accustomed to with him—but tonight, something lingered underneath, a weight you couldn’t quite place. Finally, you turned toward him, breaking the quiet.

“Alright. What is it?”

“What is what?” Yunho replied, his voice calm, but too carefully measured.

“You’ve been brooding since we left the hospital,” you pressed, watching his profile closely. “Did Eli say something that got under your skin?”

His fingers flexed around the reins, the only sign that he was considering his words. “No,” he said finally, the cadence of his voice steady as always. “Not exactly.”

You tilted your head, waiting, the rhythm of the horses' hooves filled the silence until Yunho finally spoke, his voice steady but softer than usual. “It’s not jealousy, if that’s what you’re thinking. They admire you. I understand why.”

You glanced toward him, his expression calm but his eyes telling a deeper story. “Then what’s bothering you?”

He looked ahead, the golden light catching on the edges of his face, softening the sharp lines. For a long moment, he said nothing, as if the answer were something he’d only just allowed himself to put into words.

Finally, he turned his head slightly, his gaze holding yours, warm and steady.

“Because I’d rather be the only man you look at like that.”

Masterlist

4 | 6

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[thyme-in-a-bubble]

tomato faced

a/n: I told you guys I came up with an abundant amount of shy reader smut the other day

warnings: Steve Harrington x shy!reader, smut, fingering, dirty talk

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

Quite literally curled up in his lap, Steve’s fingers were buried so deep within you that the root of his palm nuzzled against the plump of your clit. With your flushed face smooched against the rapid pulse clear on his neck, you felt him chuckle beneath you, “you’re adorable,” not slowing down his digits pace one bit, drawing out even more embarrassingly lewd wet noises with every motion. 

“Stop it,” you whined, not wanting him to tease you any further than the cruel amount he already had been, as you clung to his t-shirt, wrinkling it with your heated grip. 

“No, you are,” he pestered on as your thighs shook, squeezing his strong forearm as he played with your sobbing cunt, “getting all tomato faced on me just because your pussy’s crying out for me. Don’t you hear that?” he purposely angled his fingers, enriching the reverberations of the sloppy result of your desire, “hear how much she wants me, huh? Can’t even imagine what colour you’ll turn once I’m finally balls deep in you… purple maybe?”

“You’re not being funny,” you smiled shyly, thankful that he couldn’t see it. 

“Oh yeah? You sure about that?” his warm laughter vibrated in his chest as he rocked his fingers more vigorously inside of you, making you croak out a needy moan, your face burying even deeper as your limps debated on whether or not they should cling onto him further or if they should just flail around his pistoling pace, “that’s what I thought,” he chuckled, pressing his lips against your hairline as your hands flexed mercilessly against the cotton of his shirt, “you sure you don’t wanna take that pretty little face out of hiding and peek down at how pretty you are for me?” he asked softly through his everlasting teasing air, not giving up as you managed a small shake of your head, “what if we just sit in front of the mirror together, huh? Give you a real good view of what it looks like when I get to stretch you out so fucking perfectly?”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Scary Little Christmas

Warnings: non/dubcon, alcohol, humiliation, spanking, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You make a mistake while cooking Christmas dinner.

Character: Frank Castle

Day One of the December Daze Challenge. Prompt - i didn't know the egg nog was spiked! + don’t look at them, why are you looking at them? look at me. they’re not going to help you. - source

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You pour yourself another glass of the rich eggnog. It’s unlike any you’ve had before. Luxurious almost. You sip on the clear mug of the festive fuel as you flutter around the warm kitchen. The stove sends a radiating swelter through the space, along with the scent of turkey and thyme. 

You set the cup down and flip on the stove light. You have a look at the turkey through the window. You take the thermometer and stand, gripping the handle as your head ripples oddly. Ooh, it must be the heat. You should open a window, yet the blistering cold hardly sounds much better. 

You open the door and reach through to poke the turkey with the tip. You wait until the temperature pops up. Almost there. 

“Peach,” Frank’s voice drawls from the front room. 

As always, you are diligent in your response. You rush you to look in on him as you press your sweaty palms to the front of your apron. You give a sheepish smile. 

“Yes, sir,” you say. “Bird’s almost done.” 

“Not too worried ‘bout that,” he wiggles his can at you. “Get Bill too.” 

Your Christmas is small. Just you, him, and his best friend. An old marine buddy who sleeps as much on your couch as in his own bed. You don’t mind, he knows how to keep Frank mellow. 

“Of course, honey,” you take his can, a swish of dregs still in the bottom, then take Billy’s glass. As you weave around the table, you stumble over your own toes.  

“Eh, slow down,” Frank warns, “don’t need ya makin’ a mess.” 

“Yes, sir,” you reply. It’s a call-and-answer. You can’t leave him unheard. 

You go into the kitchen and dump what’s left in the can. You rinse it and put it in the recycling bin. You take a new one from the fridge and slide it into his coozy. You mix Billy a new drink from the bottle he brought with him. 

You return and serve Frank first. Billy smiles as he accepts his glass. “Smells delicious,” he comments. 

“Thank you, Billy,” you step back and blink, your lashes seeming to catch each other. “It’s a pretty big turkey so there’s a lot to go around.” 

“Good, I’m starving,” he slaps his flat stomach then sips from his glass, “that’s good. You make the best drinks.” 

“Just coke and whiskey,” Frank grumbles. 

“Sure, but it’s a good balance,” Billy raises his glass. 

“Thank you, sir. Uh, that eggnog you brought is pretty good. I’m on my third glass. I know Frank doesn’t like it very much,” you say. 

“Eggnog?” Frank echoes. 

Billy chuckles, “oh yeah? You like it?” 

“Sure. I haven’t had any since I was a kid.” 

He laughs again, “did you read the label?” 

Frank stiffens and slurps from the can. You look at him and shake your head. “Kinda.” 

“It’s Baileys, sweetheart. 60 proof. You been drinking it straight?” 

“You brought her alcohol?” Frank sits ups. 

“I brought it for everyone. I was being a good house guest, Castle.” 

“You been drinking?” Frank turns his sneer on you, knowing Billy will meet him with the same. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know--” 

“You telling me you didn’t taste the rum?” He snarls. 

You blink and glance at Billy nervously. He shrugs and sips his whiskey. 

“Don’t look at him, why are you looking at him? Look at me. He's not going to help you.” Frank barks. 

You flinch and face him. You clasp your hands together. “I don’t drink sir, I wouldn’t know--” 

“You talking back to me?” He sits forward and reaches to put his beer down. 

“No, sir. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked before--” 

“Get over here,” he points in front of him. “And shut your smart mouth.” 

Your lip trembles as you nod and put your eyes down. Usually, he’s until Billy isn’t there, or at least, you are somewhere private. You know it’s bad because he isn’t. 

You shrink down, curling your shoulders and approach him. You’re all too aware of the other man in the room. Just as conscious of his full attention. As you near Frank, he grabs your wrist and wrenches you forward. You whine as you stagger. 

“Don’t be goddamn stubborn,” he growls. 

You snivel and apologise again. 

“Get yourself over my knee. And pull that skirt up while you’re at it.” He commands. 

You obey. You lay across his lap and reach back to lift your skirt. He just as quickly grabs your panties and swipes them down your ass. You whimper again, your thighs quivering as you’re exposed to the room. To Billy. 

Frank spreads his calloused hand across your ass. You brace yourself as he lifts his arm, leaving your skin cold. The first strike is scalding. You cry out as your flesh stings. You keep your head down as he does it again. Spanking you so hard that you feel it in your spine. 

“You know better than that,” he reprimands as he lays each slap. 

When he stops, he keeps his hand on your fiery skin. You don’t dare move. You stay draped over his lap as the noise of the football game continues on around you. 

“Go on,” he gives a lighter tap. “Get dinner on the table. Game’s getting good.” 

You lift yourself, pulling up your panties as you keep your eyes on the floor. You’re too humiliated to look at Billy. As you drop your skirt. You sense him shift in his seat and it makes you wince. You flee to the kitchen. 

The turkey is done. You take it out and blink away tears as you carve it. You sort out light and dark meat on a platter and carry it to the table. You arrange all the fixings in serving dishes; sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, carrots, beans, turnip, cranberry sauce, gravy, stuffing, and buns. 

You hesitate as you cautiously peek into the living room. 

“Um, sir, dinner--” 

“Go on, wait for us,” Frank waves you away, his eyes fixated on the television. “Wanna see this kick.” 

“Yes, sir,” you whisper. 

You go to the table and sit. You’re patient as you wait for them. Billy comes first, appearing through the kitchen as he brings in his glass with a helping of the eggnog. You look away shamefully. 

“You’re right, sweetheart. It’s pretty good,” he sets the glass down as he sits. 

“Yes, sir, very,” you agree. “I’m sorry I drank so much.” 

“Well, I brought it for that very purpose,” he affirms. 

Frank finally comes in. He claims his chair at the head of the table. You get up and step up next to his shoulder. 

“Can I fix you a plate, sir?” You ask. 

“You know what I like.” 

You take his plate; dark meat, potatoes, carrots, gravy, a bun, and some stuffing. You butter his bun then sit down. He doesn’t move. 

“Well, we got company,” he sneers. 

“I’m sorry, sir. Billy--” 

You go to get up and Billy waves you off. “I’m a big boy, I can serve myself.” 

“Big boy?” Frank echoes under his breath. 

Billy snickers and shakes his head, “jeez, Frank, it’s Christmas. Have a bit of holiday cheer.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do. I’m not a child,” Frank snaps. 

“Fuck if you don’t act like one,” Billy retorts. 

“Big boy. Think you’re a fucking big boy,” Frank repeats. “I’ll show you a man.” 

The table lurches as Frank stands. You stare at him as he reaches for you. He grabs your upper arm, his fingertips dipping into the bruises already there. He rips you up to your feet and moves you around the table in front of him. He kicks the chair behind him away as he hits it. 

“You don’t need to take it out on her, Frank. What’s the problem--” 

“I’m showing you what a big man is,” Frank grabs the back of your neck and bends you forcefully. Your stomach crushes his place and you feel the moisture sopping through the layers of your apron and dress. “You come in here, givin’ her that poison--” 

“It’s the holiday. Just a treat--” 

“You both shut your fucking mouth,” Frank tears your skirt up above your ass. “I see the way you look at her. I hear the way she fawns over you. ‘Oh, Billy, thank you’,” he mimics you meanly. “Well, I’ll show you what you’re never going to have.” 

You stare at the wall as Frank tugs your panties down again. He kicks your feet apart and pinches your ass. You squeak as he splays his hand against your flesh and pokes around your cunt. You close your eyes as he brushes your entrance with his rough fingertips. 

He pushes two fingers inside of you and you whine. He wiggles them then slides them out. You hear the clank of cutlery. You blow out between your lips as Frank’s weight shifts around behind you and he pushes his tip between your cheeks. 

He guides himself down to your cunt and bucks his hips mercilessly. He splits you with a single thrust. You gnash your teeth as he jerks again, bottoming out with a grunt. You grip the edge of the table and hold your breath. 

A knife scratches on porcelain. You hear chewing. You lift your head as Frank thrusts again. You stare at Billy as he scoops up gravy, potato, and turkey in a single bite. He sucks the fork clean and smiles. He's entirely unbothered by the gruff display. 

“The fuck are you doing?” Frank puffs but does not relent. The table jolts with his aggression and Billy picks up his glass to keep the liquid from sloshing. 

“Well, I don’t want my food to get cold,” he says. 

Frank growls and frames your hips. He snaps his pelvis against you and grunts. “Goddamn, Bill, you always were a goddamn freak.” 

Billy laughs and takes a gulp of the eggnog. He swallows and lets out a sigh, “well, you know, I won’t mind if there’s leftovers. I'll be happy to eat them up.” He winks and Frank pumps into harder. 

“Fucking bastard,” he snarls and his flesh slaps you loudly. “Peach, you keep looking at him but you remember who you belong too. “He bends over you and loops his arm around to grab your chin. He lifts you, arching your back as he forces your head up. He ruts into you relentlessly. “Remember, it ain’t fucking him.” 

[sillygoose067]

A Masked Promise

Ch. 1

Dick Grayson (Nightwing) x Reader

Author’s Note: So… *clasps hands together dramatically on desk*. This is the first (of many), but I’d really, reeeaaaallly like feedback, or like a response on what vibes this first chapter gives. Thanks!

As another customer steps into the quaint cafe you worked in, the door makes that familiar jingle.

 “Hello, welcome to The Chariot!” you chirp from your place over the counter. The stranger glances around, most probably trying to find a seat. He walks over to a tiny table and chair set in the leftmost corner of the cafe, setting his laptop bag and a couple of files he’d been carrying on the table, and returns to the counter. 

 “Hi. I’ve never been to this place before, and it’s been a while since I’ve been back in San Francisco. I’d like a regular dark roast," he waits as you punch in his order. “And..." he trails off. "Which sandwich would you suggest?”

 “Oh! No one’s ever asked me that before. Um…” You stare off into the corner for a while. “Well, the Grilled Tomato, Chèvre, and Thyme baguette sandwich is pretty good.” You look back at him, just to come face-to-face with a frown. He thinks about it for a second and nods. “Just take a seat, and I’ll bring the orders over when they’re ready,” you gesture to his seat. 

You stare after him as he makes his way to the seat again. This man was quite handsome and fit. And he was wearing a uniform, so he was probably an officer working in this jurisdiction for a while. God, when he’d leaned over the counter to get a better look at the menu, you caught sight of a slight blue in his eyes. They were such a beautiful color, indiscernible due to their richness. 

With a shudder, shake yourself out of your stupor and head to the kitchen to tell the staff the most recent order. 

…

With a cup of steaming hot coffee and a plate with his sandwich, you head to the stranger’s table, where he hunches over and moves between the yellow files and the laptop. 

 You clear your throat. “Sir, your order...” 

He straightens to attention and stuffs some of the files into his bag, clearing the table. “Thanks.”

 You beam at him. “No problem, sir.” You pause as he reaches for the coffee. “I don’t mean to pry, but you look familiar. If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name?” 

The man stops mid-sip. Slowly, his eyes meet your inquisitive ones, and he searches for any kind of defiance or negative intention behind them. He was trained to do so for the good of his family—or his pseudo-family—and himself. Finding nothing but pure curiosity in your dark hazel eyes, he answers, “Richard Grayson... Wayne.”

[vaspider]

Hey, I have a slightly cheeky request - I happened to come across your answer on mediachomp about the history of American recipes. I don't know if you remember it, it must have been at least 3 years ago. Anyway, you described why recipes in America in the 50s/60s were so Jell-O-heavy and horrible.

Firstly, thanks for the history lesson, I found it really interesting!

Anyway, you also talked about your grandmother and how she made 2 pies for dinner every day of the year. And that you have all her recipes 😉

And idk - I love to cook, I love to cook traditional recipes from all countries - and this short description of your grandmother has given me appetite 😅

Would you mind telling me 1 or 2 of your favourite recipes?

Well, first of all, that's... not my post. That's a media aggregator that is actually stealing my words and @steampunkette's & @thestuffedalligator's and putting ads on them and making money off of them. I don't know how the others feel about this but this is just wholesale theft for the purpose of making ad revenue, and while it did direct you back to me, most people don't actually come back and interact with writers when our words get hijacked for the direct ad revenue benefit of others.

I'm not angry with you about this - I'm explaining. Taking a whole long thing someone wrote and just going "hunh, interesting," at the start and then making revenue off of it isn't actually okay. A lot of writers file a lot of DCMA takedown notices over shit like this. So, like, thank you for letting me know, but this isn't a fun positive thing to find out. It's... annoying.

Anyway, I'm not doing a lot of baking or cooking at the moment because I had a hysterectomy 9 days ago, so, have a low-spoons recipe.

1 box Trader Joe's gluten-free gnocchi

3 medium Tupperware containers (mine are 8" x 4" x 2") with airtight lids

6-8 T butter, divided into thirds and cut into chunks

Parmesan cheese, grated (green-bottle shake cheese works great)

Onion powder, garlic powder, salt, and other herbs (parsley, sage, thyme, oregano) to taste

A small bag of spinach

Boil gnocchi. While it's boiling, divide the butter and spinach between the containers. Tear the spinach roughly. Add seasonings and shaky cheese to the containers. Put at least 1/3c shaky cheese in there, maybe 1/2c. Trust me.

When the gnocchi are done, drain them and immediately divide them between the containers. Put the lids on loosely, put all 3 containers in the microwave at once if you can, and microwave for 30s. This is just to make sure the butter fully melts during the next bit.

Close the lids firmly and shake the everloving shit out of them. Preferably don't do this all yourself, give the other 2 containers to whoever else you're feeding and let them shake their own.

The starch from the gnocchi will combine with the cheese and spices and make a really easy alfredo-style sauce. The spinach will wilt. You will have a meal with carbs, veggies, and protein in about 5 minutes that feels a lot more elaborate than the work it took.

It ain't multiple pies a day, but it'll feed you.

[basset-babe]

five times: the second.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings: unsolicited sexual advances

word count: 3.7k+

a/n: apologies for the late update! i've been sleeping in so bad lately lmao also, please do know that my writing isn't abided by the series' consecutive timeline bcs i just tend take away scenes and themes through s1 to s3 where it would make sense with the fic idea in my head, but all still well within the bridgerton series (S3 SPOILER! also i do not hold any grudge towards lady tilley arnold tho she is the rendezvous love interest of ben in s3, just made sense for me to add her here in this context) but nonetheless, please enjoy the 2nd! ciao belle!

five times series: the first. the one point five. the second. the third. the three point five. the fourth. at last.

spring divider from @thyming and, again, pattern banner from @cafekitsune thank you!

second time.

As the noon sun cast a bright glow over the sprawling estate gardens, Miss Y/N and Benedict strolled along the cobblestone path lined with vibrant blossoms and verdant foliage. The sweet fragrance of blooming flowers mingled with the earthy scent of freshly turned soil, creating an intoxicating bouquet that filled the air. Birds chirped melodiously from their perches in the ancient oaks, their songs adding a gentle soundtrack to the tranquil scene.

Miss Y/N paused by a bed of delicate gardenias, her fingers brushing lightly over the soft petals as she turned to Benedict with a teasing smile. "Have you no other plans than to spend your time watching me procure my plants, Benedict?" she asked, her tone light but her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Benedict, standing a few paces away with his hands casually tucked into his pockets, returned her smile with a warm, earnest expression. "Actually, I find great pleasure in keeping you company and wandering through your beautiful gardens," he replied, his gaze taking in the lush greenery and the kaleidoscope of flowers surrounding them. In truth, his heart swelled with affection for her, every moment spent in her presence a cherished gift.

A few steps behind, the chaperone lingered near a stone bench, her attention seemingly focused on the distant horizon. Although out of earshot, her presence was a reminder of propriety and decorum.

Miss Y/N sighed softly, her playful demeanor tinged with a hint of exasperation. "We are chaperoned! I mean, probably out of earshot but still," she said, shaking her head slightly as a wry smile curved her lips. "You and your subtle art of flirting."

Benedict chuckled, the sound low and pleasant. "Ah, but where's the harm in a little harmless flirtation amidst such beauty?" he replied, gesturing to the surrounding garden. "Besides, your company is far more captivating than anything." His words carried the weight of his burgeoning love, though he struggled to fully express the depth of his feelings.

As they continued their leisurely walk, the leaves rustled softly in the gentle breeze, and the world seemed to slow, allowing them a few precious moments of stolen intimacy amidst the natural splendor.

"My subtle art of flirting," he murmured, stepping closer and carefully looming over a bed of blooming roses. "Or perhaps it’s not so subtle after all."

She glanced up at him, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "I would say it’s as subtle as a peacock in a library."

"Ah, so it’s quite effective, then," he said, leaning in just enough to catch the gardenia’s sweet scent.

"You are impossible," she said, shaking her head but unable to hide her smile. "Even when you called on me, you've brought a grafted rose to plant, of all things!" She laughed fondly.

"Well, I thought it suited you," he said as his voice softened, casting her a glance full of admiration. "A growing thing of beauty, requiring patience, care, and attention." His heart pounded in his chest, the metaphor echoing his own feelings for her.

The sun glowed warm through the greenhouse window pane. Peering from the vines, the sunlight dawned and cascaded over Y/N, rendering her breathtaking in Benedict's eyes. The golden light danced on her hair, casting a halo-like aura that made her appear almost ethereal.

Her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink at his words. "For an artist, you do have a way with words, Benedict," she murmured, a soft smile playing at her lips as she averted her gaze.

Benedict, unable to resist the magnetic pull of the moment, reached out and gently touched a gardenia bloom, his fingers brushing against hers. The brief contact sent a subtle thrill through him, a spark of connection that felt both profound and delicate. "And I mean every one of them, you know," he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of sincerity and unspoken affection as their eyes met.

Y/N's breath caught slightly, her heart quickening in response. Her gloved hand now in his as he gently held it. The intensity of his gaze made her heart flutter, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fade away. Her lady's maid, the estate, the very garden itself—all blurred into a distant background against the magnetic pull between them.

A gentle breeze stirred, carrying the intoxicating scent of gardenias and roses. Y/N's eyes widened slightly at the depth of emotion she saw in Benedict's eyes, a mixture of admiration and something deeper, something she dared not name yet. Her fingers, still intertwined with his, felt warm and comforting, a silent promise held in the delicate touch.

Her voice, barely above a whisper, broke the silence. "Benedict, do you ever, um, find yourself feeling, well, the same way I do in moments like these, when we're together?" Her eyes, tinged with vulnerability, flicked up to meet his, silently seeking a connection that transcended mere words.

Benedict's smile softened, his thumb lightly caressing the back of her hand as he leaned nearer to whisper, "Every moment with you, Your Grace," he said, his voice filled with a gentle ardor. "Your presence, Y/N, for if I revere you a dream, then I no longer wish to wake from my slumber."

Y/N's heart raced at his words, her cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of pink. She felt a rush of emotions, a blend of excitement and a tender vulnerability she had never experienced before. Her eyes widening in awe, "You speak as if I am something unattainable, a fragment of your mind," she said, a touch of playful skepticism in her tone.

Benedict's expression softened, nearing her as his gaze full of adoration. "Y/N," he murmured, his voice tender yet earnest, "you are not a fragment of my mind, nor are you unattainable. You are the very essence of my heart's desires, a beacon of light in a world of darkness." He reached out to gently cup her cheek, his touch conveying a depth of emotion beyond words. "To me, you are not just a dream, but the reality I never dared hope for. And I will spend every moment proving that to you, if you'll let me."

Meanwhile, the subtle clearing of her lady's maid's throat, positioned at a respectable distance, acted as a genteel nudge to observe the proprieties of their setting.

"Um, I, uh, apologize, Your Grace," Benedict murmured, his cheeks tinted with a shy flush as he took a small, hesitant step back, seemingly unsure of where to place his hands. "I… erm, it seems I, uh, forgot to, um, maintain my distance. Please forgive me," he added softly, his voice trailing off with a hint of uncertainty. "I, um, really didn't mean to, uh, make you uncomfortable." His eyes, a mix of nervousness and sincerity, briefly met hers before darting away, as if seeking refuge in the nearby foliage. "I'm, um, deeply sorry if I, you know, overstepped," he continued, his tone laced with a sheepish awkwardness as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unable to find a comfortable stance. "I… I suppose I just, er, got a bit carried away in the moment."

Y/N's cheeks flushed deeper as she felt a rush of embarrassment mingled with amusement at Benedict's sheepish apology. She averted her gaze momentarily, suppressing a nervous giggle before meeting his eyes, she reached out to gently place a hand on his arm. "Oh, Benedict," she began, her voice soft with a hint of laughter, "there's no need to apologize. I… I must admit, I too got carried away in the moment." She glanced around, half-panicked that someone might have witnessed their closeness, but finding the situation more humorous than anything. "It seems we both found ourselves swept up in the enchantment of the garden," she added with a playful wink, her laughter bubbling forth despite her attempts to compose herself.

Benedict let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing as he returned to a more respectable distance from Y/N. He couldn't help but smile at her laughter, finding solace in her lighthearted response. "Indeed, it appears the garden has a way of enchanting us both," he agreed with a soft chuckle, his gaze lingering on her with fondness. "I guess we ought to keep a closer eye on decorum," he mused with a rueful grin, a playful glint dancing in his eyes.

Benedict entered his studio at the esteemed art academy with a purposeful stride, the faint aroma of charcoal and linseed oil pervading his senses as he stepped within. The grand wooden door emitted a gentle creak as he pushed it open, revealing a space that, while seemingly cluttered, held a unique order characteristic of an artist's domain. It's been days since Mr. Bridgerton had paid visit to Miss Y/N; days since his apparent confession unreturned with an answer, hoping of the most favored "yes".

The studio was suffused with the soft, diffused light of late afternoon, filtering through tall, dust-laden windows. Easels stood in solemn ranks, each bearing sketches and paintings in various stages of completion. The floor was a canvas in itself, adorned with a mosaic of paint splatters and crumpled sheets of paper, silent testament to his countless hours of diligent work.

His gaze was inexorably drawn to the central easel, where his latest sketches of Miss Y/N awaited his discerning eye. Countless hours had been devoted to capturing her likeness, her features indelibly etched into his memory and transposed onto the canvas from myriad angles. The delicate curve of her jawline, the subtle arch of her brows, the enigmatic depths of her eyes—each sketch narrated a different story, a moment either observed or conjured from his imagination.

Benedict set down his leather satchel upon a nearby stool, extracting a well-worn sketchbook and a selection of fine graphite pencils. He approached the easel with a sense of reverence, as one might approach a sanctified space. The quietude of the studio enveloped him, disrupted only by the distant murmur of the academy's other activities.

As he perched upon the high stool before the easel, he paused momentarily, allowing his thoughts to drift back to his latest sitting with Miss Y/N. He recalled the play of light upon her hair, the subtle shifts in her expression as her thoughts wandered. With a deep, steadying breath, he took up a pencil, its familiar weight a comfort in his hand, and resumed his sketching. He became immersed once more in the intricate dance of lines and shadows, bringing her presence to vivid life upon the paper.

As he worked, Benedict would lose himself in the intricacies of her likeness, his mind consumed by the challenge of translating her beauty onto paper. Every stroke of his pencil would be deliberate, every line a reflection of his perception of her essence.

In this intimate space, surrounded by the tangible evidence of his devotion, Benedict would pour his heart and soul into each etch, striving to capture the true spirit of Miss Y/N with every stroke of his pencil.

"Someone seems smitten, don't you think, brother?" Anthony's teasing voice broke through Benedict's intent stare as he drew, jolting him out of his reverie. A faint blush tinged Benedict's cheeks as he glanced up, his hand pausing mid-stroke.

Benedict's older brother stood in the doorway, a playful smirk playing on his lips as he observed the tableau before him. Benedict chuckled softly, the sound carrying a hint of embarrassment. "I'm merely capturing her likeness as an artist," he protested, though the affection in his gaze betrayed his true feelings.

Anthony's grin widened, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Of course, dear brother," he replied, his tone dripping with amusement. "But one might argue that your portraits of Miss Y/N are a tad... shall we say, inspired?"

Benedict rolled his eyes good-naturedly, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Perhaps," he conceded, returning his attention to the paper before him. "But can you blame me? She's quite the muse."

With a knowing laugh, Anthony stepped further into the studio, his presence injecting a sense of levity into the room. "Indeed she is," he agreed, his gaze drifting to the scattered sketches of Miss Y/N that adorned the walls. "But do try not to get too lost in your musings, brother. The real Miss Y/N might start to wonder what's keeping you so occupied."

Benedict nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Point taken," he said, his focus returning to his work. But as he etched his pencil into the paper once more, his thoughts inevitably drifted back to the enigmatic woman who had captured his imagination—and his heart.

"Oh, and a letter arrived. It's for you," Anthony handed as sealed letter, "from a Lady Tilley Arnold. Seems urgent." Benedict stopped as he looked at his older brother whose held a knowing look. "I am not one to pry for I am one with your contentment, brother, but it seems you have unfinished business?"

"It is not what you are implying, brother. We are done. Lady Arnold had bid me done then. It is probably purely audience." Benedict replied focusing back to his work.

"Then I shall leave you to it, brother." Anthony left the letter on the stool and stepped out the studio closing the door, leaving his brother with his thoughts.

After his brother's departure, Benedict found himself unable to shake the lingering thoughts about why Lady Arnold had sought his audience. Their relationship had long evolved beyond the realms of a passionate love affair, and any such intimacies had faded into the past. Instead, he now saw himself as a respectable bachelor, poised to fulfill his societal obligations and perhaps find a suitable wife.

Despite this unexpected shift in their dynamics, the unexpected summons from Lady Arnold had stirred a curious blend of nostalgia and apprehension within him, prompting him to ponder the nature of their current connection.

As Benedict retired to his townhouse for the evening, his mind buzzed with conflicting thoughts about the impending meeting with Lady Arnold. While he harbored no romantic, nor amorous, feelings for her, the prospect of their encounter tomorrow left him feeling decidedly uneasy. After all, he had been actively courting Miss Y/N, and the mere notion of being seen with Lady Arnold had the potential to ignite scandalous gossip.

But then a knock sounded. In the dimly lit parlor of Benedict's townhouse, a cloaked woman stood before him, an air of melancholy clinging to the elegant form. "Lady Arnold, good evening! Do come in." He moved aside as the women entered. "To what do I owe--" He was cut off as Lady Tilley spoke, her expression tinged with a mix of determination and vulnerability. "Benedict, I sought you out because I'm leaving London soon. I wanted to bid you farewell before I go."

Benedict nodded politely, though a flicker of curiosity danced in his eyes. "Of course, Lady Arnold. It's kind of you to say goodbye."

But as their conversation unfolded, Benedict couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Lady Arnold's visit than a simple farewell. Her demeanor seemed to betray an underlying tension, a sense of urgency that belied the pleasantries of their exchange.

"Lady Arnold," Benedict began, his voice laced with a hint of concern, "is everything alright? You seem... troubled."

Lady Arnold hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering uncertainly before she squared her shoulders, as if steeling herself for what was to come. "Benedict, there's something I need to tell you," she confessed, her tone serious. "Something I've been meaning to say for quite some time." Taking a deep breath, she forged ahead, her words measured yet tinged with emotion. "I... I've realized that I can't bear the thought of leaving without expressing how I truly feel."

Benedict's eyes widened in surprise, his mind racing to comprehend the implications of her confession. "How you feel?" he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lady Arnold nodded, her gaze unwavering as she held his gaze. "Yes, Benedict. I know the risks of me being seen here in your residence but it seems that you have not responded to my correspondence... I have come here to say that I've been thinking about us, about our past, and... I can't deny that I still feel something between us."

Benedict's mind flew to the letter he placed on his desk earlier the night he reached his townhouse. He didn't even want to open it knowing what it could contain. A rakish past he, quite possibly, no longer wants to open. Benedict, then, felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him, memories of their shared history flooding back with startling clarity. Yet, beneath the surface, a sense of unease gnawed at him, a silent reminder of the boundaries he had vowed to uphold.

"Tilley," he began tentatively, his words hesitant as he struggled to find the right response. "I… I'm not sure what you mean. Our past is just that, the past."

But Lady Arnold was undeterred, her resolve unwavering as she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "But what if it doesn't have to be? What if we could recapture the passion we once shared?"

Benedict's heart quickened at her words, torn between the allure of nostalgia and the reality of his present circumstances. "I... I don't know, Tilley," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Things have changed. I've changed."

Undeterred, Lady Arnold reached out to touch his hand, her touch soft and pleading. "Benedict, please. Don't you remember how good it used to be? Just one last time, before I leave."

Benedict felt a surge of conflicting emotions welling up inside him, his mind spinning with indecision. "I… I can't," he finally answered removing his hand from hers, his voice heavy with his conscience. "It wouldn't be right, just like you decided."

Lady Arnold's eyes gleamed with a mixture of longing and sorrow as she looked at Benedict. "Do you remember, Benedict," she began, her voice soft yet laden with emotion, "those nights we shared? How the world seemed to disappear when we were together? Every stolen moment, every secret touch… it was as if time stood still just for us." She took a step closer, her gaze never wavering. "The way we used to laugh, our whispers filling the darkness with promises only we understood. We explored each other's souls and bodies with such intensity, such reckless abandon. Every touch was a symphony, every kiss a sonnet. Our passion burned so bright, like a flame that could never be extinguished."

Her voice faltered slightly, a wistful smile playing on her lips. "We were invincible then, weren’t we? Bound by nothing but our own desires. It was a love that consumed us, left us breathless and wanting more. Even now, I can feel the echoes of those nights, the way your touch could ignite something deep within me, a fire that no one else could ever hope to spark."

She spoke of memories shared, of passion ignited long ago, and hinted at desires yet unfulfilled. Despite his best efforts to maintain composure, Benedict found himself ensnared by her magnetic presence, a faint echo of their past intimacy stirring within him as she caressed his jaw.

As the tension between them reached its zenith, Lady Arnold's advances became bolder, her fingers trailing lightly along the curve of Benedict's jawline as she leaned in for a kiss. For a fleeting moment, their lips met in a passionate embrace, igniting a spark of longing that threatened to engulf them both.

But as quickly as it began, Benedict pulled away, a confused expression clouding his features. "I am afraid it has ended," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "This... it no longer feels right." His words hung heavy in the air.

Lady Arnold's expression softened, a hint of sadness clouding her eyes. "I know things have changed, Benedict. We have changed. But those memories... they still linger. A testament to what we once shared, a rendezvous that defied everything and everyone."

She reached out, her fingers grazing his hand. "Tell me you remember, Benedict. Tell me that those moments meant as much to you as they did to me."

Benedict felt a lump form in his throat as Lady Arnold's words washed over him. Her memories mirrored his own, a testament to the bond they had once shared. He swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to respond.

"Of course I remember," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "Those moments were among the most exhilarating experiences of my life. We had an affair, some rendezvous that was."

Lady Arnold's eyes softened at his confession, a flicker of hope igniting within them. "Then why can't we have it again, Benedict? Just one last time, before I leave. Let me carry that memory with me."

Benedict sighed, "Because things are different now," he said gently. "Our lives have moved on. What we had was rousing, but it's part of a past that no longer exists."

Lady Arnold's expression crumpled slightly, her hope waning. "But why?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Why can't we hold onto it, just for a little while longer?"

Benedict took her hand in his, his touch both firm and tender. "Because it wouldn't be fair to either of us," he replied softly. "I can't give you whatever temporary high you want, not when my heart belongs to someone else now. It would be a lie, a betrayal of what we both deserve."

Tears shimmered in Lady Arnold's eyes as she listened to his words. "I understand," she said finally, her voice barely audible. "I just... I had to try."

Benedict squeezed her hand gently before letting go. "I know," he said. "And I'm grateful for what we shared, Tilley, truly. But we both need to move forward, to find happiness in the lives we've chosen. You know it, this cannot be."

Lady Arnold nodded, her shoulders sagging with resignation. "I suppose this is goodbye then," she murmured, a wistful smile tugging at her lips.

"Yes," Benedict agreed, his voice tender. "Goodbye, Lady Arnold. I wish you all the best."

With a final, lingering glance, Lady Arnold turned and walked away, leaving Benedict standing alone in the dimly lit parlor. As the door closed behind her, he felt a profound sense of closure, mingled with the bittersweet pang of lost love. He knew he had made the right decision, but the echoes of their past would remain with him, a poignant reminder of a passion that had once burned so brightly.

taglist: @novausstuff // @pussyslayerhd // @amoosarte // @jupitervenusearthmars

again, please do send me a message or comment down if you would like to be added on the succeeding taglists for the five times series!

[yourwitchmama]

Lughnasadh/Lammas spell jar for prosperity:

Ingredients:

🫙 A small glass jar with a lid

🌾 Dried grains (such as wheat, oats, or rice)

🪙Coins or small crystals (such as citrine or aventurine)

🍂Cinnamon sticks or powdered cinnamon

🌿 Dried herbs (such as rosemary, basil, or thyme)

🍃 Bay leaves

📝 A piece of paper and pen

🎗️A yellow or gold ribbon

🧿 Cleanse Your Space and Tools:

Make sure you cleanse your space and the items you’ll be using to get rid of or neutralize any old or negative energy. Energy cleansing with smoke is going to be the easiest way since nothing will get wet, but you can also use cleansing spray for people with sensitivities/strict rules. Just a soft mist- you don’t need to dowse everything in water.

🧘🏿‍♀️ Set Your Intention:

Meditate with the jar in your hands. Imagine whatever blessings you want, and really visualize it going into the jar. Feel the energy from your daydreams and wishes charge it.

🪷Layer/pour your spell jar Ingredients:

Layering your ingredients in the jar, starting with the dried grains, can make it aesthetically pleasing. Of course, you can throw them into the jar with passion and disorganization as well. Whichever you feel is right for you. As you add each layer or handful/spoonful of ingredients, focus on your intention and visualize abundance.

🖊️ Write Your Intention:

Write down sigils, intentions, affirmations, runes, or whatever you feel is best with your style to put in the jar. It’s best to roll it up or fold it so it fits, just don’t burn it or rip it up.

You can say: “With this spell jar, I invite abundance, prosperity, and gratitude into my life.” OR you can make up your own spell.

🦭 Seal the Jar:

Once all the ingredients are in the jar, seal it with the lid. Wrap the yellow or gold ribbon around the neck of the jar and tie it in a knot or bow. Yellow and gold are colors associated with the sun and abundance.

🌕 Charge the Jar:

There are a few ways to do this.

The first way is you can put specific miracle tones, chants, meditation music, and subliminals to charge it. Let it sit in front of the music for a long time. However long you intuitively feel is necessary.

The second way is you can place it in the sun or under the moon. I typically use the moon. Try to not do it under a new moon.

For the third way, hold the jar in your hands and focus on your intention once more. You can say a prayer, chant, or simply visualize golden light filling the jar and radiating out into your life.

Use any method you are used to or feel intuitively pulled towards! These three examples don’t need to be the way you charge- they are just ideas.

🙏🏻Place the Jar

Place the spell jar on your altar, a windowsill, or another special place in your home where it will be undisturbed.

💫 Maintain:

Continue to charge your jar if you feel that it isn’t working. You can shake around the ingredients if you feel that it will help remove stagnant energy.

[whysperingwoods]

Spice Rack Sorcery: How to work magic with what you already have, and Meeting your herbs

When we think of witchcraft, it's often a classic scene: Glass jars full of vibrant herbs lining a wooden shelf, bundles of mugwort, sage, and thyme hanging from the ceiling to dry, scents of cool lavender breezing through our calm space. But right now, the soundtrack I have going on is a city street, and the only tree I have in my sight is fighting for its life in the square meter of dirt it's confined to on the sidewalk. Just because nature isn't at your doorstep doesn't mean you can't access the magic and beauty of plants.

Stuck in the Learning Loop

note: In this article I often say "herbs" for the sake of not weighing down the text, but I am referring to the items in your cabinet whether they be herbs, spices, salts, blends, etc.

There are so many herbs in our urban environment, but where I really think new witches go wrong is they get stuck in the "learning loop" (aka "tutorial hell" for the tech nerds and digital artists out there). I was definitely (and still sometimes am) this person: I want to try something new, so I spend ages and ages researching the topic. The more I research, the more I realise I don't know, and the more research I have to do! Ultimately, I end up never getting to the doing part-- I just spin in circles, reading endlessly, and feeling more overwhelmed than empowered.

We're going to cut through the noise and start working with magic that you already have in your kitchen.

You know right off the bat that these herbs are safe to ingest, which ones you're allergic to, and you probably have some pre-conceived notions and experiences with some of what is in there.

Make a list of all the herbs and spices in your pantry. Yes, you should include salt and pepper! You can even include spice blends, if you have any, and if you do I recommend writing all their ingredients. It can be a fun exercise to look at the properties of spice blends and see which ones dominate, and what kind of spell you might make of it, but let's call that an exercise for later on.

Meeting the herbs

Now we get to the hands-on part. To start with, pick 3-5 herbs. If possible, try to make them varied (different colours, or textures, or tastes), but if you're not spoiled for choice, just pick what is available.

Visit each herb with all of your senses, and really spend some time with them. (Take notes on your answers when you're asking yourself these questions: they are the foundation that will form your correspondences!) What does it look like? What colour is it? How does it smell when it's dry? How does it feel when you roll it through your fingers? How does it sound when you shake it? How does it taste? How do all those things change when the herb is wet, or boiled in a tea? Fried in butter? Does it sizzle, or crack? What happens when you break it, crush it, or rub it? What sensations do you feel in your body when you eat this herb or spice? Does your mouth pucker, or water? Does it feel intrusive?

Don't forget that intuition is also a sense. What comes to mind when you spend time with this herb or spice? Recall your past experiences with it, if you have any. What do you feel in your body? What dishes have you eaten with it, and how did those dishes make you feel? Was it a comfort food, a salad, something warm, or raw and cold? Does it make you feel at home?

There are different schools of thought on the power of personal associations when it comes to witchcraft, but personally I've always had more success when taking my strong personal associations into account for spellwork. Even in herbalism, plants can have very different effects in two different people, and the same goes for witchcraft. This is why I strongly recommend going the experiential route and meeting the plants before starting to research their properties elsewhere.

An exercise I've found particularly helpful is to meditate with the herb (I like to do it as an infusion or tea, but that is not necessary). What feelings get stirred up in me? Do I feel lighter, or heavier? Am I energised, or relaxed? Where does my mind want to go?

Imagine if the herb were a person. How would you describe them? What is their personality like? Try to be aware of any personal biases that come up here, and attempt to untangle them. This is your personal practice, no one is checking your work, so examine closely what comes up for you and be honest about where it comes from. Focus less on where the herb is from, and more on what they embody. What are their qualities? What are their flaws? If you could sit down with them, what would they tell you?

When you're done with these exercises, it's really important to summarise your thoughts. Write down the strongest impressions you had, and some of your less strong ones. Take note of your ideas for how you would like to experiment further, and what you're not sure of. This makes for an easier reference later, and you can update as your relationship with the herb progresses over time.

Putting your knowledge into practice

You thought we were done, but no! You've met the herbs, but you still need to put that knowledge to the test with a spell or working.

Look through your list of correspondences and pick out the ones that are interesting to you. At this point, focus on your personal associations, and try to ignore traditional meanings that you may have read about. Are there any that stand out as something you'd like to have more of in your life right now? Narrow your focus to one correspondence; this one will be the main focus of your spell. Now take a look at the other associations you have with the herbs that share that correspondence, and decide which ones could help bolster your main focus.

Here's an example: I associate mint with freshness and a new start, so I pick that as my main focus. I also have this association with rosemary, so I look at some of the other associations I have with rosemary, and one of them is protection. Lemon I also associate with freshness, but the other association I have with it is sourness, and defensiveness. Therefore, for my purposes, rosemary feels like a better match, so I'll use both rosemary and basil in my spell. You can do this with as many additional herbs as you want.

There are infinite numbers of spells you can try, but we want to try and do one with our own personal associates of the herbs, not a pre-made spell, so I'm going to propose a basic spell framework, but ultimately this is your spell, and I highly encourage you to do whatever you'd like here. If you're really into jar spells, try that! If you like candle magic, dress a candle using the herbs you pick. Whatever you want to do, go for it! But the key word is do. This outline I'm providing is just to help guide those who may never have done a spell before and don't know where to start.

Clean your space. This doesn't have to be a whole four directions circle casting, it can simply be having a clean surface area to work on. Set the mood if you want, but you don't have to.

Set your intention. Before you start, you should have a clearly defined goal in mind. Visualise your goal, or write it down. Include a timeline for when you intend for the working to come to fruition (i.e. within a week, two weeks, etc).

Prepare a tea with the herbs in question, and tell the herbs what you want them to do while they infuse. Strain them after a few minutes and mindfully drink the tea.

You can close the spell by simply thanking the herbs and cleaning up the space.

Keep notes! You should keep at least some quick notes about every working, but especially when you're trying something new. Write down the date when you should have results by, and set yourself an alarm for that date as a reminder to revisit it.

Acquiring more herbs

I'm sure I'm not the only person who daydreams about growing all their own herbs or foraging them from the wild, but the reality is that is simply not possible for most people. Thankfully, there are tons of ways that you can access herbs:

The Dollar store, or your local equivalent. Most places have very cheap spices available.

Grocery stores obviously have a ton of spices available and many herbs. Bonus points for these because you know they are safe to ingest. They also often have fresh herbs, which are more expensive but it can be fun to experiment and compare fresh vs dry, or even try your hand at drying them yourself without having to grow them from seed or forage them.

Local apothecary. Look online for things like "local apothecary", "herbalist", "health food store" also often has herbs, even if only in supplement form. Tea shops can be worth checking, however they will often be blended, so just be ready to work with what they have. There are also many local apothecaries that deliver by post, so take a look in your area to see if there is one that offers delivery. Many bulk herbs are incredibly cheap and high quality.

Online apothecary. There are plenty of reputable online apothecaries, however I must caution against buying bulk herbs off Amazon. Even with supplements, make sure you are buying from a reputable seller as many of them are found not to have the herbs advertised.

Growing and foraging your own herbs is of course an option, however make sure if you are foraging that you are doing research on each plant and possible lookalikes, and ensure you are harvesting sustainably.

If you start acquiring herbs, consider simple glass jars with labels or deli containers. Personally, I store my herbs in deli containers and write the name of the herb in chalk marker, along with the main properties. Right on the container! No need to fish it out of my notes every time.

Further research and reading

This was all about not getting stuck in the learning loop, which is why I'm putting it dead last, but as someone who loves research and reading, I must include it. I recommend meeting the herbs first, and experiencing them first-hand, but eventually you'll want to know more, so here are some ways you can do that:

archive.org is an incredible resource when it comes to researching old folklore about plants and herbs. Use the text search and type in the name of the plant you are interested in, and you will often find many books that mention it. Try narrowing down your search to your country or language and see if you can find folklore or tales that include the herb.

Look up the plant on Wikipedia. Many of them have sections on folklore and ethnobotany that can be incredibly interesting. Take note of the references for the entries, and use them for further research.

Many books about herbalism also talk about historical uses and folklore.

Go to your local library and ask the librarian where they keep their books on plants, as well as where they keep their books on folklore. Browse, and see what you find.

Ask your parents, community elders, local gardening clubs, etc.

I hope this gives you some food for thought, and some ideas on how to experiment with herbs safely. So take a look at your pantry, pick out those spices, and start your journey from home. The magic is already within your reach.

I'd love to hear about your experiences and if you have any other techniques to share, leave them in the comments!

[sitp-recs]

Hello good morning afternoons or evenings, I hope you are having a wonderful day! I'm looking for fic Drarry where they both become a safe place for each other or have a strange connection with each other because only they can understand each other.

Hello anon! Oh I love this concept so much, I’m all for comfort fics like that. Here are some stories that came to mind:

A Little Death Never Hurt Anyone by @tackytigerfic (E, 4k)

Harry's getting good at slipping through the Veil. He's determined to win the war, even if means he has to raise the dead to do it. Draco just wants a stiff drink and a good night's sleep.

Thermodynamic Equilibrium by @dorthyanndrarry (T, 5k)

Harry's far too hot. Draco's always cold. And somehow against all odds, together they create a perfect equilibrium.

A Pain of Our Choosing by @lqtraintracks (E, 6k)

It’s 8th year and everyone’s still a bit messed up. Harry and Draco fall into being messed up together.

Glowing by @cavendishbutterfly (T, 10k)

Harry's lived alone and vampiric in his cottage for ages, until a long-lived Draco Malfoy suddenly shows up to answer an advertisement Harry had practically forgotten he'd put in the Prophet. Cue soft blood drinking, quiet nights of reading and crocheting, and Harry thinking that maybe--just maybe--he might not be so alone anymore.

Tidings of Comfort by @blamebrampton (G, 10k)

When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life. Luckily for Draco Malfoy, London has places where the tired can rest and recover.

Nice Things by aideomai (M, 22k)

The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.

The Last of What the World Left You by @xanthippe74 (T, 25k)

If the wizarding world won’t give Draco a second chance, he has a plan to survive: live in his Animagus form, a carrion crow, in the Forbidden Forest. Not only does Harry Potter come along and ruin it, he’s radiating a strange aura of power. With nowhere to go and a Life-Debt to his mother that Potter insists on repaying, Draco puts himself into the hands of the reclusive Boy Who Lived. Will the bleak corner of Yorkshire where Potter makes his home be another dead end or an unexpected refuge?

Strange Bedfellows by orphan_account, ravenclawsquill (E, 30k)

When Harry encounters a frail and fidgety Draco Malfoy at the Ministry, he just knows something is wrong and he’s determined to get to the bottom of it.

Holly and Hawthorn, Thistle and Thyme by bryoneybrynn (T, 31k)

After the war, Harry can’t shake the feeling that something is very wrong with him and he has a terrible feeling he knows what that “something” might be. He has a terrible feeling Malfoy might know, too.

Open For Repairs by @drarrytrash (M, 35k)

After the war, Draco works at a tv repair shop and Harry breaks things.

Like Lightning at Your Fingertips by potterwatch (T, 43k)

The problem with living with another insomniac is, eventually, they find out you’re one, too. When Harry and Draco return for their eighth year, they think they’ll see very little of each other. Then McGonagall assigns them to room together. And the castle starts breaking. And there’s that thing with Potter’s magic.

A Room Up There (And You In It) by @the-starryknight (T, 59k)

When Preservationist Draco Malfoy was assigned to work on Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, he was excited to delve into the gorgeous Black family antiques. His excitement quickly ended when something in the House decided it did not like his presence one bit. Featuring a grumpy antiques lover who most certainly did not sign up for this, encounters with a vengeful apparition, and a healthy application of Christmas spirit.

Running on Air by eleventy7 (T, 75k)

Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects.

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) by nerakrose, dustmouth (T, 96k)

Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry.

Way Down We Go by @xiaq (T, 109k)

In which Harry and Draco both run away from their pasts and conveniently choose to hide in the same tiny American town. It's super.

A Sword Laid Aside by @korlaena (E, 128k)

When Draco’s cover is blown during a deep undercover operation and the Ministry is compromised, Ron takes Draco to the only safe place he can think of—Potter. Hiding out with a taciturn Harry Potter, who has been missing from the Wizarding World for almost two decades after a shocking fall from grace, is nothing like Draco thought it would be.

In The Dark by @bixgirl1 (E, WIP)

In the aftermath of an apocalypse, Harry receives an order to find and bring Draco Malfoy nearly a thousand miles, to the tenuous safety of Hogwarts. But more than distance separates them from their goal. The world has fallen, and death is hungry.

[harvestmoss]

☀️🌷 Florida Water

I see a lot of witches, more so the new ones, get confused as to what Florida Water is and if it's water from the beaches of the state, Florida. I can assure you, you do not have to travel all the way to Florida and fight crocodiles to get some water.

What is Florida Water?

Florida Water came into the world in the start of the 19th century as a cologne for both women and men. It was a highly popular cologne in the late 19th century for it's rich and strong smell. It has a light flora scent with citrus overtones.

It became synonymes with spirituality when African-Americans in the Hoodoo sphere used it as a powerful spiritual cleanser, and because of it's pleasant smell, was also associated with appeasing the dead.

Generally, Florida Water is a spiritual cleanser, protective agent, and draws in luck, fantastic energy, and happiness.

Why is it called Florida Water?

Well, the word "Florida" is actually a Spanish word. Which roughly translates* to "Flower" or "Abundance of flowers" or "Flowery". Another way of saying Florida Water, in Spanish, is "Agua de flores".

How Do you make Florida Water?

Florida Water is still sold commercially with it's original formula from the 19th century, however, you can still make your own Florida Water at home. Recipes often change but have similar overlaps. Here's some ingredients to consider when making it, there's no need to use all of them, but it's always good to use most.

Citrus fruits -- Lemon, orange, grapefruit, lime.

Herbs and Flowers -- Rose, lavender, rosemary, mint, calendula, sage, thyme, jasmine, bergamot, violet, chamomile, basil. lemon balm, eucalyptus.

Spices -- Cloves, cinnamon sticks, allspice berries, anise.

An alcohol like Vodka** and distilled water.

Place ingredients into a large jar with a tight lid. Fill it half with vodka and then half with distilled water. Let it sit in a dark place, shaking it often, for at least 2 weeks to up to a month (you could make it during the new moon and complete it during the full moon). Then strain it using a sive and cloth and place into an airtight bottle.

The mixture should last you 6 months, keep out of direct sunlight, it's a good idea to write down when you made it and what ingredients it contains on a piece of paper and stick it to bottom of the bottle.

You may add essential oils to it as well or only use essential oils of the ingredients. You may also use fresh or dried ingredients. I prefer fresh. I also recommend using organic, so make sure your roses are not sprayed with pesticides and such.

Where do I use it?

Cleansing a space, yourself as a bodyspray, in rituals, to cleanse objects and charge them, offerings, warding off bad luck, to a bath, to be rid of bugs, your laundry, floor wash, to shine your iron tools, etc. Get creative!

(* Please note, Spanish is not my native language nor a language I study, takes these translations with a grain of salt.)

(** You may use grain alcohol as well, but do not use common household alcohol.)

My personal mix includes lemon, orange, lime, rose petals, mint leaves, rosemary, lavender, thyme, cinnamon sticks, garden sage, and mugwort. As well as vodka and distilled water.