#Swift Package Manager

[nscoder-mad]

Creando tu primer SPM plugin, imágenes, presentación y mucho más.

El pasado miércoles 19 de abril, Libranner Santos compartió con nosotros una estupenda charla sobre SPM plug-ins.

Lamentablemente, no pudo impartir la charla presencialmente, tal y como estaba originalmente previsto, pero eso no nos impido de disfrutar de una charla, con live-coding y de las instalaciones que amablemente nos cedió el equipo de Kindred, junto con cervezas y pizzas para todos.

El contenido de la presentación de Libranner puedes verlo aquí.

Además, Libranner ha compartido un excelente artículo donde se desgranan todos los pormenores de la charla, y desde donde podéis descargaros el código fuente.

Muchas gracias a todos los que asististeis, a Libranner por la excelente charla y por supuesto a Kindred por su amabilidad, cediéndonos sus oficinas, y además darnos de cenar.

Nos vemos en la próxima.

[achrams]

𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: An antique collector gets an unusal package containing a knight ('A Knight' from Reverse 1999) right at his doorstep, with lots of old english.

𝐂𝐰: Blow job, unprotected mirror sex and a creampie.

Being into ancient relics came with its pros and cons, for example your house looked like a literal portal to a Victorian house…at the expense of you living off of 2 dollars until your next paycheck. Which in hindsight wasn’t as bad as it sounded given the high ranking job you managed to somehow bag. No need to worry about going to the office either, remote work -  you really were blessed weren’t you. Nice modest house, from the outside that is, a beautiful interior filled with all sorts of mystical shiny relics you had managed to collect like a crow and a good job- Ding dong.

You weren’t expecting any guests, especially at this hour. With a grumbled murmur of, ’Who in the hell comes over at 7am sharp.’ you made your way to the front door of your flat. Taking a deep breath in to mentally prepare yourself for any sort of human interaction before plastering on a smile and opening the door. To your surprise the hallway was empty, not a single soul in sight at all. It’s as if a ghost had decided to pull a prank on you and ding dong ditched you leaving nothing more but a few boxes in its wake.

Another, more annoyed sigh left you before your gaze lowered to the ground where two boxes were left to be welcomed into your comfortable Victorian looking house. It was an easy deduction that these must be some of the items you had bought a few days? Weeks? Maybe even months or years ago..you’ve lost count of the times you’ve ‘accidentally’ wandered onto a website that sells all sorts of trinkets for your hoarder mind. The older the better, that’s how it usually went.

A swift few trips back and forth from your door to the livingroom and the lonely boxes were finally adopted into the family of silver shine that covered the place. The first box opened up to two beautiful antique vases - intricate designs of wreaths covered shimmering the area perfectly. One simple look around and you knew exactly where to place the vases. The small nooks, that the plethora of items you owned had created, on each side of the hallway leading to your bedroom like you were some royalty.

The second box was a little more concerning, to say the least, it was heavy. Like really heavy for some shiny antiques. Aside from that, you didn’t quite recall buying anything other than a couple of vases. Sure, your mind could have fooled you but surely you would have remembered a purchase that seemed to weigh tons. Anticipation filled your gut as you hovered over the box, hunched like a dragon obsessing over every speck of gold in the mountains of shinies your mind was hooked on.

With careful precision you removed the tape from the box and let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. Opening a freebie of sorts shouldn’t be as nerve wracking as it is right now. ’Did someone send this to the wrong address? No- what if this is something illegal. I really should just leave it..’ Seems like that inner debate lasted for approximately 3 seconds before eyeing the suspicious box became too daunting and you quickly opened it up. Having pressed your eyes shut in case something were to jump out of it and scare you.

One, two, three, four- okay nothing jumped out to surprise you. Recovering from the tense jumbled position your hands managed to form, as a protective gesture, gave you a better chance to properly look at what the box had to offer. Inside laid an absolutely stunning silver armour. It was beautiful, more so than any other old knightly armour you had seen before. It was in pristine condition, shiny with no smell of rust, covered from head to toe in extremely small carvings that were clearly embedded into it with love.

The only..concerning part of this all was that the box seemed packed. Well, it looked like it was filled to the brim, ready to bust - which gave the initial fear of the box containing something illegal- but to your eyes it was a mere cape with some metal gloves. Clearly part of an armour..maybe the rest of the armour was buried beneath the cape - which was beaming with rich blue fabric and golden stitches to show its high class. Though as soon as you tried to reach into the box it didn’t even take a millisecond before sheer surprise made your body recoil backwards.

’What the hell was that.’ You thought as your gaze lingered on the suspicious cardboard before you, then lowered to your shaking hands. You swear you felt something - shocker the box had items in it- but you didn’t touch anything. Your hands hovered over the metal gloves but you weren’t touching them. So, why in the hell did it feel like a hard surface was beneath your skin. ’Am I going insane? Is this the end for my brain?’ The thoughts spilled from your lips via an awkward chuckle.

Some small glances between your right and left hand eased your spiralling mind before they were ultimately dragged across your face with a groan. Maybe it was the early morning that was fucking with your head because no other suggestion would provide a suitable answer for your weird hallucination, if that moment could even be called that. It was around 7 am in the morning after all, perhaps you were still half asleep and not thinking correctly..or worst case scenario you’ve unleashed a phantom into your house, forced to get an unwelcome roommate.

Moving slightly closer to the box, for probably the third time in the span of half an hour, you pulled all your courage to try and see what truly was inside the box. ’There’s no way what just happened was real. Some passing…air..maybe..hopefully’ Not even you yourself managed to reassure the marathon running heart beating out of your chest.

“Ah..That wast quite a trip…Greetings.” A voice reached your ears and instead of the usual screech, yelp or a freak out, you had properly convinced yourself that you had lost it. Falling back onto your heels you sat before the mystical box that seemed to house a…ghost? 

“...WHAT THE SHIT!?” It finally seemed to click that what had just happened was not, in fact, a dream but real life. Even though you could see nothing but some metallic gloves and a curtain of a blue cape it took way too long for you to react to the presence before you. Scrambling up to your feet, heart ready to meet its grave as you quite literally sprinted down the hallway to shield yourself in your bedroom. ’What is happening..this is not real..but it was. The damn armour spoke.’ You heaved out as your back was neatly pressing against the wooden door, providing a comforting feeling of knowing nothing, even the weird knight ghost, could sneak up on you.

- - -

’Okay..breathe in..and out..you can do it..’ That had been a soothing mantra leaving your lips for the past..let's say another half an hour. Each time you had come close to opening your door, which was just your hand lingering ominously over the doorknob, your mind managed to convince you to retract your hand. Leaving it awkwardly stiff beside you as the next wave of hyping up followed. It probably took you about ten more minutes before you actually got the courage to exit the comfort of your bedroom.

The walk into your living room area seemed a lot longer than you remembered, it might have been the fear that played the most important role right now but at least it gave you the time to think of an ‘escape' plan. Spoiler: it would have been you sprinting right back into your bedroom, which one might argue, is not the most clever of plans.

One look to the left and one look to the right managed to dim the light of your concerns, Pheww..there's no one here. See, I told you there was nothing to worry about.’ You whispered out to yourself. The worries that had clouded your mind for way too long were eased, as much as one could ease them in this situation to be fair, so for your own sanity you wanted to quickly discard the cursed cardboard and go back to your humble life.

The chucked out box looked innocently back at your grimacing face. Almost making it seem like you were having a stare off with it before pulling your door closed. A deep breath in and you were finally ready to actually start your day, despite the chaos you had endured for the better part of an hour now. Turning around you were faced with none other than the mystery armour itself. “So, I'm not crazy. I've just lost it all..” your mouth hung open at the sight, the fleeing plan from before having morphed into a freezing one.

“Someone believeth we did get off on the wrong foot. ‘Tis a delight to meeteth thee, sir.” As much as you would have wanted to answer with something, anything, there was a clear and strong barrier between your head and your mouth, refusing to let anything pass. Instead of communicating you stared at the knight in utter shock with your jaw probably growing roots against the wooden floor by this point. “I am, Knight. Nay necessity to worry for Someone is not vengeful.” he bowed before you in a well-mannered way.

It took you a few blinks and stutters before you mustered out a simple, “What..are you?” That seemed to be the question that broke the dam because the following flood of questions seemed to confuse the poor knight as much as you had been confused and continued to be. “How did you get here? Why are you here and what the fuck is up with the invisibility?!”

“Right, such a colourful vocabulary thee has't.” The knight murmured out as he swayed in his spot - as visible from the swishing from his cape. He held out his hands in a surrender and tried to explain as calmly as he could in hopes that the words would actually reach your overburdened head.

“I'm afraid Someone doth not have't an answer for yond, or aught of those questions. Someone recalls getting defeated in combat and now..waking up here.” The smooth voice from the invisible body before you says, and you can somewhat tell, from the moving cape, that he's looking around the place. Inspecting the interior as if he hadn't had the time for that when you’d locked yourself into your bedroom for half an hour.

“So..you just are like..that?” You asked, hands motioning to the body or lack thereof with a confused expression. Brows having contorted into a jumbled mess as you desperately tried to wrap your head around all of this crazy magical nonsense that had been suddenly pushed into your casual life.

The knight nodded, or that's what it seemed like at least, “Correct, this is merely how Someone is.” The knight turned around with a swish, and happily questioned you about your interior choices. “Someone might not but sayeth, thy interior selections art quite embracing. Art thee fond of history?” 

The nod was already halfway finished when you realised that you were genuinely speaking to some invisible knight. ’There's nothing to do about it anymore anyways..might as well have a chat.’ Walking a bit closer, to quickly slip past him you walked to the living room and gestured to the different antiques you've been collecting for years now. “I am, yes. Any object with historical value or an eye-pleasing design has a place in my home.”

Throwing a quick smile towards the invisible knight seemed like a welcoming enough gesture as the knight moved closer to better chat on the topic. Being an old knight from fuck knows which time period gauranteed some first hand experience, in the historical view point. Two historical nerds being pulled together by fate had ensured long chats on anything antique related. Luckily for you the ‘phantom’ you thought to have let loose in your flat just happened to be a devoted and gentle knight. You weren’t sure how or why this happened but as of right now, this surprise roommate was good enough.

- - -

It has been a few months since this mysterious knight entered your life. There might have been a bit of a rocky start to this new living plan but as it turns out it wasn’t that different to how things would have been with a regular roommate, yours was just..a little obscure. In that time you’ve been together with him the amount of knowledge you’ve gained is astronomical. You knew your stuff before but now, having a real person to confirm or deny these ‘facts’ was real handy. As well as getting to know the real meaning behind some antiques. It was thrilling to say the least.

In addition to all of that, you got to know the knight better. All of his past battles, memories, friends..everything. He had been surprisingly willing to share such personal parts of himself so fast. Which likely worked to create a stronger bond, because what lunatic would immediately trust ‘flying’ gloves without knowing anything about said gloves. He came out to be a lot more interesting than you had previously thought.

Though there is one little knack to it all. He seems to be very insistent on calling you ‘his Lord’. It wasn’t immediate, no not at all, it was gradual. Revealing stories of his past Lord and then ever so slowly starting to refer to you as a Lord. Maybe it was the interior design that made him fit right in or maybe he just missed his Lord at home - wherever that may be - but he didn’t even stop when you brought it up. In fact, it seemed to enable him.

“My Lord, Someone might not but sayeth I'm thankful for thy hospitality. You've been more than kind.” He said earnestly as he sat across from you at the dining table, conveniently fit for two in this small warm flat. It was almost audible how he beamed when he said it, having forced it out from the deepest parts of his heart.

“I said it already, you don’t need to call me ‘Lord’. I’m just some guy you live with now.” You half assedly laughed out while swishing the cooling tea around in your mug with a spoon. A comforting habit you’ve picked up on, and it seems he had too given how the armoured hand hesitantly moved to cover yours. 

“I insist. Thee helped me and Someone wisheth to showeth his own gratitude” the knight murmured out honestly and drew his hand back once your mindless tea mixing motion had come to a still. There was a moment of silence before he spoke up once again, this time more sheepishly. As if he was actively debating whether to truly speak his mind or not while he was already speaking, “Doth such a title bother thee?”

He doesn’t even let you answer that it doesn’t as much as bother you but it just feels out of place given they didn’t live in the 17th century or well, you didn’t. “Someone just wisheth to refer to his own loveth accordingly.” Yes, you heard that correctly. He did just say that and by the looks of it was mostly intentional, maybe revealed a bit earlier than he was ready for given the fidgeting hands on his cape but it certainly wasn’t a mistake. The knight didn’t even attempt to take it back, just waiting for a response to the small confession.

“You..I heard that correctly..right?” You practically choked out, surprised - though let's be honest the signs were very much clear. The use of a title, the small affectionate gestures, the deep talks about his past. The knight trusted you a lot more, a lot faster than one would in such a short amount of time.

“Ay. Yond is correct. Someone wisheth to pursueth thee, if thee don't mind yond, my Lord.” He said out with a heartfelt tone, shifting in his seat to lean more onto the table, likely not wanting to miss any small reaction you might let out. Every small detail was valuable to him, especially when it came to love. 

“I..I’m not sure, it’s just.” You didn’t want to break the poor knight’s heart. He was kind and charming - from what you’ve managed to deduct - but he was an invisible knight. No amount of delusion changed that. “I’m sure you’re a really kind guy-” “Please. Someone beggeth thee. This comes from the bottom of his own core. Alloweth Someone showeth thee the extent of this loveth, my Lord.”

’Gosh, was he always so adorable? Begging to prove his love..that amount of devotion wasn’t easy to come by nowadays.’ You sighed and let out a gentle chuckle. Head tilting up from the mug between your hands to now look at the desperate knight. “Alright. I accept your confession.”

This made the knight ecstatic, getting him to jump from his chair before his armoured hands came up to cover his mouth. “Apologies, Someone is  over the lunar sphere from thy acceptance. Someone is so joyous he couldst kisseth thee.” It didn’t take a genius to figure out from his body language that he was begging, aching to show his devotion, his love for you.

With a sheepish sigh you nodded at him, giving him the permission he was hoping to receive. No time was wasted for him to quickly make it before you. His armoured cold hands coming to hesitantly and so gently rest at your cheeks, the metal caressing your warm skin before he leans forward. “Someone loveth thee.” The whispered words brushed your lips before the two worlds met.

His lips were very much real and warm, obviously he was real but it was your first time kissing an invisible knight, you didn’t know what to expect so to feel it was relatively normal eased your mind. Hands sliding up his armoured hands to explore their way onto the knight’s shoulders and then around his neck to pull him closer. Growing more confident with the way things were going, you wasted no time in tilting your head feeling him lose his base adrenaline from the beginning. 

A smile made its way onto your lips as you felt his breath hitch into your mouth, eating that delicious reaction right up. Following your instincts and sliding your tongue along his shaky lower lip before intruding his mouth. Huffs and slurps filled the air around you two as you dedicated the moment to show him the modern, intense, kisses his knightly mind couldn’t even fathom. “My Lord..” the breathed sound was like music to your ears as you pulled away from his lips, seeing the clear signs of shared spit between you two breakrather lewdly.

“Can Someone please thee?” He huffed out, armoured hands still cupping your face as you could feel his intense gaze on you. Begging. You didn’t even need to see it to know that his face was begging for you. For him to be able to show his love. “Of course, Love.” The shaky breath that left him at the response did not go unnoticed by you, feeling how the cold metal travelled down your neck to your chest, gliding it down the front until your hips.

Kneeling before you his hands pried open your thighs, thumbs massaging the skin beneath the fabric. Even though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel how his head leaned in to press gentle pecks all along your thighs. Ranging from your knees to the thighs to the inner thighs before his nose was flush with your groin, pressing intimate kisses the the area. Pulling you a little closer as his armoured hands grabbed your ass so he could properly hide his face between the soft warm thighs that belonged to you, his Lord.

“May Someone?” he breathed out and buried his head into your warmth. Nuzzling his nose against your growing hardness with need that was unexpected from a calm and collected knight such as himself. Smiling against you when he felt your hands travel down to rid yourself of the annoying fabric that seemed like a brick barrier between you two right about now.

As soon as the pants had been cast aside and let pool at your ankles after some quick manoeuvring, the knight wasted no time in pleasing his Lord. One, two and three kisses up your length before his armoured hands dug it out from your boxers, dragging his tongue along the slit. Tasting the pre that had started to bead from the tip at the continuous affection you were receiving from the knight worshipping you on his knees.

“You can..do what you wish-” before you were given the chance to even finish your sentence, the knight had already kissed the needy and messy head before taking it into his mouth. Humming against it as he suckles it with a slurp, making you lean your head back with a groan. Hands going to quickly grasp the seat of the backless chair you were sitting on while the knight selfishly pushed his head down to take you in his mouth whole.

The feeling of a warm, welcoming mouth with a soft tongue gliding against the underside of your dick was heavenly. Making you press your eyes shut while you face the ceiling, to deal with the loving affection you've been deprived of for a while. Who knew that such devotion and worshipping felt so damn good that you felt your chest heave and thighs shudder under the armoured hands that kept them perfectly open and in place for the knight.

Hollowing his cheeks around your dick, the knight pulled his head up to run his tongue over your head again before lowering it to take you to the base. Feeling how you grew harder in his warm mouth, how you twitched in his throat like some starved man. Gosh if he wasn’t smitten before then he certainly was now. Wanting to please his Lord until he was satisfied and on cloud nine.

The knight hummed in delight from the way you heaved from his ministrations, that in turn making him pick up his bobbing to deepthroat you with every single move. “Ahh..wai- mmh!” The words were cut off by the knight's armoured hand reaching to cup your balls, fondling them with care while he gagged on your dick like some hoe who'd just seen an ankle for the first time in his life. 

The warmth of his wet mouth and squeeze of his adjusting throat were damn near perfect that when he ignored your plea from before he certainly acknowledged the way your body shook violently not, staggering on release. The shivered breaths and hitched bucks into his mouth made the knight as pleased as he could be. “..hahh Love..please..” you managed to force out from the onslaught of pleasure.

A moment to catch your breath as his mouth popped off your erection, the pre mixed with saliva keeping you connected. “I don't..shitt..I don't want to cum from this..can I fuck you?” The words came out breathy and hopeful as you finally leaned your head down to look at the sight of  the knight, your knight treating your dick as if it's a sucker.

While he decided if he wanted to let you or not, your gaze zoned in on the fact you could see through him. You could see how he took you into his mouth, how your dick fit his throat and how it squeezed you deliciously. You really could see the hazed pre-covered channels his body ‘hid’, the same ones you had claimed. Damn was it a turn on.

With an eager nod the knight rose from his feet to take your hand and pull you up. Hoping to guide you to your bedroom, through the royal looking hall, where you could continue to explore and share the devotion of love as a knight should to his Lord. However, that plan was spoiled, not in a bad way though. Instead of the bedroom, you dragged your knight next to a mirror. Standing behind the eager knight and ridding him of the cape that obstructed your perfect view.

Your hands finding his shoulders and travelling down his body, worshipping the hidden gem of a man just as he had done to you minutes before. Sliding them down his chest to stomach and then his thighs which you grabbed and pushed down on, making his ass slot flush against your hard on.

“Have you always been naked, hmm?” You whispered slyly as your hands roamed, claimed and ravaged his body like some carnivore. To which he simply let out a shaky breath, leaning his body more against you as a silent invitation to take and enjoy your meal. To show just how much you loved him.

A sneaky hand had made its way into the crease of his ass, exploring until it found a snug rim of muscles. ’Perfect.’ You thought as you massaged it in a circle before teasingly putting pressure on it til the tip of your pointer finger slipped past the force. 

It wasn’t even much and you had already dragged out a moan from your knight, it was small and similar to a hitched breath but it was there. Slowly easing your finger in, you took pride in the sounds already leaving the knight. All shaky and broken as if you were already fucking him dumb. Your gaze focused on the sight of your digit going in and out consistently in the mirror, seeing everything through his clear body.

Not deeming it worth seeing just yet, you waited until he was prepped before showing him the sight you found magical and took pride in. Once the single finger had turned to two, letting you scissor him to your heart's content it felt like a good time to grind your neglected throbbing erection against his ass. Making sure you didn’t soften while getting your knight nice and loose for you.

The knight had had his head leaned back on your shoulder, warm breaths escaping his parted lips like a prayer while your hands worked their magic. When he felt three digits work him open, curling and thrusting in him with nasty squelches he bit his lip to limit the lewd whimpers his well used throat was collecting like a magnet. The broken bucks down against your fingers said more than words ever could.

“You're so perfect, Love.” You murmured slowly as you withdrew your fingers with a slick sound, earning a broken gasp from your knight. The coated fingers gave a few pumps to your dick before guiding it right against your knight’s quivering hole. Applying pressure to it but not breaching it just yet. Instead your free hand moved to look for his head, forcing him to look down into the mirror to see the spot you were about to ruin and claim.

“Look at that, love. Focus on it, yeah?” You whispered as you finally pushed in and breached his tight hole. Feeling how his body tensed from the intrusion but despite the overwhelming feeling of you filling him up til breaking, he followed orders like a good knight. Focusing exactly where you had wanted, seeing how you had entered him. How his needy hole was trying to eat you up, to pull you further into the body he owned yet now shared with you.

“Moveth…please moveth, my Lord.” he croaked out with a simple buck against your dick. Feeling how it buried itself deeper, digging itself a snug home within the welcoming cavern inside your knight. Having seen perfectly how each drag of your dick against his walls was carving a road to heaven. Every small move drawing out a perverted sound from the already overstimulated knight.

Pushing your knight flush against the mirror before you, the grip on his neck never faltered, keeping his gaze exactly where you wanted it. Loving the idea that he’s seeing you ravage his body, claim it for your own with each wet slap of skin against skin. Feeling how his body shook and shuddered beneath your determined bucks against his soft yet clear skin. Pushing in an up to reach as deep within him as possible, showing your devotion to him loud and clear, leaving no room for interpretation.

“Oh-! fuckk..” the knight spilled his moans as he saw the brutality of your thrusts. Knowing - feeling how your dick pistoned in and out of his quivering depths like there was no tomorrow but also being ordered to see. God damn was it hot to be forced to view how your flushed and needy head toyed with his gushy walls, how your dick throbbed within him and most of all how your pre beaded out of your slit to fog up the clear view in his body.

Your hands suddenly grasped at his hips and pressed against him, hard. Pushing yourself into him so much that he felt his sweaty chest come into contact with the cool mirror. Lewd, loud and broken moans being pulled out from your knight while you pick up your pace. The once slow and calculated thrust transforming into raw needy ones. Chasing the high you'd been teetering on once before.

The knight’s metal gloves were clanking against the mirror while you fuck into him like a rabid dog. The sweet like honey mewls only tightening the eventually bursting knot in your abdomen. The tight perfectly delicious squeeze around your shaft, the filthy sounds of pleasure and creaking from your surroundings and the stimulation of fucking your knight dumb provided were enough.

“Pleaseplease- fuuckk..Love!” You groaned out as the burning tightness in you was becoming overwhelming. Your hips burying themselves neatly against your knights plush ass in a frenzy as you shake against one another. The force of it all making your knight cry out in bliss, drowning out the cracking of glass.

With no warning or a heads-up, you drew your dick out til the head and harshly pressed back in, one final time before coming. A loud moan erupts from your knight as the final blow pushed so perfectly into him, though the bliss was short lived with the sudden break of the mirror before you. Luckily neither got hurt, because your knight had his armoured gloves on and you had already slowed your hips to a near halt.

Leaning against your knight's back, catching your breath as you felt his walls milk you dry. He hummed in pleasure, catching his own breath from the intensity of it all as his dick pumped ropes of cum onto the mirror and the broken shards across the floor. His eyes shutting for a moment but opening just as fast, yet tiredly, when he felt your hands wrap around his middle, sliding down to hover over his abdomen. “Would you look at that?” You breathed out with gratitude.

“That's all mine now. My perfect knight.” To which your knight seemed to shiver at when he saw how well you had used the canvas of his body, painting his clear inner walls white with devotion. A perfect art exhibit in his body of who this knight was devoted to. It fit perfectly with your already enormous collection of antiques. What's the harm in having your personal knight as well?

Though that thought will be stored for later, seeing as you knight was becoming sleepy. Exhausted from the physical labour, not in a fighting way he had been used to in his old world,but in a more primal way that had completely drained him, slowly growing limp in your arms. Luckily the hands around his middle held him up, for now. Gently pulling yourself out of him with a pop, you guide your sleepy knight to a nearby couch to avoid you collapsing too.

Making sure he's nice and comfortable before storming to the bathroom for a warm moist cloth to wipe your knight clean. Ensuring he felt loved for, just as much as he loved you. “Rest well, my Knight.” You whispered as you pampered him in his light sleep, cleaning his sheen covered skin and leaking body before peppering him with gentle kisses. 

Damn, you were going to have a lot of cleaning up to do after this heartwarming aftercare. Like properly cleaning the cum leaking from your knight, a shower to rid the sweat covering your bodies, the glass shards on the floor from the broken mirror and the dribbles of your knight’s release coating the mirror like an art piece. Might as well snuggle close to your knight while you can as the exhaustion hits you like a brick too.

“Someone loveth thee, my Lord. So much.” That was the last thing you heard after cuddling close and welcoming sleep which was well earned after such a thorough display of devotion.

[xvysarene]

𝕌𝕟𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝔹𝕠𝕟𝕕

Pairing: Zayne x Fem!Reader Prompt: “I’ve built walls, and yet they crumble when I see you.” Words: ~2.5k Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff Notice: Y/N is not MC, Antagonist MC, Mentions of wounds

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

His childhood friend exuded energy just as vibrant as her Anhausen class Evol, captivating those around her with her bubbly demeanor.

However, beneath the cheerful façade lay a calculated use of charm, a trait you couldn't help but notice, especially in her interactions with Zayne.

As a senior hunter, your responsibilities included supervising new recruits, and you discerned her manipulative tendencies over time.

“Just because you've seen me at my weakest, you’re not entitled to pass judgment on those dear to me. It proves how I've known her longer and better, as she would never stoop so low as to speak ill of you. I don’t need you babysitting me.”

Quick to defend his adored friend and seemingly caught up in emotion, he voiced those unfavorable words your way.

You knew Zayne was a direct person, but being on the receiving end of those words hurt. Especially as you later realized that you harbored feelings towards the cold doctor, feelings that had unknowingly woven into what you had always believed to be a purely platonic friendship between the two of you.

“—and you’re here because?”

His voice jolted you out of your reverie.

Somehow, standing in the exact spot where your last conversation occurred, resulting in months of silence between the two of you, had clouded your thoughts.

You cleared your throat, trying to focus back on the present moment. “Greyson and Yvonne have been trying to get in touch with you.”

When news about Dr. Zayne taking recuperative leave had spread like wildfire throughout the UNICORNS, you had considered reaching out to him. 

Your fingers had hovered over the phone, composing and deleting messages repeatedly.

In the end, you completely abandoned the notion altogether when you heard his childhood friend’s not-so-subtly mentioning her plan to visit and cook for him while chatting with the short-haired girl from the Data Analysis sector.

“I’m fine,” he managed to huff out after a while.

Taking a swift glance at the unexpected mess on his kitchen counters���scattered papers and remnants of food packaging—you challenged him. “I thought we had moved beyond the superficial ‘I’m fine’ responses when asking about each other's well-being.”

Zayne didn’t reply and you noted that he had absentmindedly leaned his long legs against the kitchen counter as if seeking support from it.

“You, the Chief Cardiac Surgeon of Akso Hospital, someone who enjoys his lack of free time, couldn't possibly have felt ‘just fine’ after being placed on recuperative leave.”

“I wasn't aware that you still kept tabs on my whatabouts," he retorted, eyes slightly gleaming competitively. However, they lacked the usual spark; instead, they hinted at tiredness and something indefinable that looked familiar but you couldn't quite pinpoint.

“I understand that your friend has probably visited you, but my great buddies insisted I come and check on you. They didn’t want to pester, but after two days of no answer, they are beginning to worry.” You raised your hands in a gesture of surrender. “Though if I’m not welcome, I’ll leave you be.”

As you moved past him towards the front door, you felt yourself emotionally drained from the brief exchange.

“Why you, specifically?” his whisper caused you to stop in your tracks.

“They know we are—” you stopped yourself, “used to be each other’s confidant. They thought you might be willing to speak to me if not to them.”

He chuckled dryly. “Used to…”

His muttered words compelled you to turn. Your hunter’s awareness noticed how he had subtly shifted, leaning more against the counter with one hand supporting his weight while his body slightly hunched forward, facing your retreating figure.

His body trembled with involuntary shivers, and the silver-framed glasses that had been perched on his nose earlier now lay discarded on top of the black granite.

“What’s wrong?” The words spilled out of your mouth before you could stop them.

Your eyes instantly snapped to his arms, expecting to see the familiar bluish hue and the delicate, yet deadly patterns of ice crystals.

Instead, you saw fresh cuts on the back of his hand. Both of them.

A sound must have escaped your lips because Zayne quickly tugged at his light gray pajama sleeves, trying to cover his hands. He took a step back as he heard you stomping towards him.

Helplessly, he played a brief game of tug-of-war with you before yielding to your unexpected strength.

“What the hell,” you breathed out as you took the angry red marks marring his pale skin, making them stand out more. When you rolled up his sleeves further, you discovered fresh lacerations, a chilling reminder of the frost's icy grip.

You cupped his cheeks. It took his gaze a moment to gradually refocus on you, seemingly startled by the sudden skin contact. “Zayne, what happened?”

His lips were sealed shut. He began to resist, however, as you guided him towards his bedroom, but your hunter strength slightly won over his sluggish state.

Zayne watched you intensively check his wounds after you managed to get him to bed. They were more severe than the scratches you saw after you had cradled his frozen arms and succeeded in defrosting them using your Evol. It was when you found him beating himself up in regret for failing to save your partner during surgery.

As you stood up to fetch the medical supplies, his hand swiftly caught your forearm, surprising you with its speed. "You don’t have to take care of me," he insisted.

“Respectfully, Zayne,” you began, knowing he'd grimace at your next choice of words, “Fuck your pride and let me look after you.”

Seeing his familiar disapproving grimace at the brash word, you chuckled quietly to yourself. 

Your boldness and recklessness often clashed with his calm and collected nature, one that left people wondering how a friendship could blossom between two such opposites.

As the antiseptic scent filled the air and silence enveloped the room while you tended to his arms, memories flooded back to the griefful night when you had lost your partner.

He had treated your temporarily forgotten battle wounds after the frost had thawed from his arms.

“It’s not your fault,” Zayne had spoken softly as he cleaned your wounds.

Your breath stuttered, surprised by the doctor's attempt to console you. Many people regarded him as highly reserved due to the carefully crafted mask of indifference he wore.

"The other staff told me what happened. You couldn’t have known that he was bitten; a child Chlorostaga leaves a very small puncture, and it would only feel like an ant has bitten you. With adrenaline running high, he wouldn’t have felt a thing."

“He told me that his heart was racing unusually fast during the transport back,” you whispered, feeling the tears clouding your vision. “And I jokingly suggested he needed to do more exercise.

“He laughed at it until—” you forced down the bile rising in your throat before being able to continue, “until he suddenly collapsed from cardiac arrest. We were only a few minutes out before arriving here to treat our wounds.”

Zayne continued gently dressing your gashes as you recounted the last moment with your partner. “His last memory was of happiness with you, feeling fulfilled knowing he had once again protected Linkon City from Wanderers... With his trusted partner."

The tears you had struggled to contain finally broke through, cascading down your cheeks in torrents. He held you close that day, offering comfort until every tear was dried.

From that moment, a bond seemed to form between both of you, drawing you closer from mere acquaintances to individuals you could trust with your deepest emotions. Only a few had ever witnessed each other's vulnerable state.

In the present, you noticed his breathing had calmed, and the hazel eyes that had been watching you carefully moments earlier had closed as you finished tending the last cut.

Gently smoothing out the crease between his brows, you couldn't help but wonder how troubled he must have been. “I’ve built walls, and yet they crumble when I see you,” you whispered, afraid of him hearing your secret.

You had tried to shield yourself from future heartache after you slammed his front door the day he had spoken harshly. Yet, seeing him so vulnerable, your caring for him only deepened.

Listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing, an unexpected exhaustion washed over you like a tidal wave.

Sleep claimed you swiftly, and it wasn't until you felt Zayne's gentle touch on your shoulder that you awoke.

“You’re going to strain the muscle in the back of your neck sleeping like that.”

Still groggy from the unplanned nap, you couldn’t protest as Zayne easily deposited you to the space he occupied earlier, as if you weighed nothing.

Your skin flushed hot feeling his fleeting touch behind your knees. Blinking, you met his gaze as he settled back beside your feet on the bed, already looking much better than before.

As the heat from his body permeated the wool blend of his pajama pants, you could feel it warming the tips of your toes. “Are you feeling any better?”

He nodded, casting a glance down at his arms adorned with scattered adhesive strips. Awkwardness filled the air as you both grappled with the ever-present unresolved tension.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled softly. You looked up, startled.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated more clearly. His hazel eyes, appearing browner under the dim lighting, seeking yours. “For saying those hurtful words to you, for failing to accompany you on mourning day.”

Your eyes widened, surprised that he even remembered about the day that had occurred months earlier.

When he didn’t appear at the cemetery of fallen hunters on mourning day, an annual tradition to honor your late partner whom he couldn't save, you learned just how much he cherished his childhood friend.

While he hadn't explicitly promised to join every year, he had always done so without fail. At that time, you couldn't help but feel disappointed when you discovered he had spent the day with his childhood friend instead.

And perhaps, an ugly thorn of jealousy had begun to bloom inside your heart.

“Greyson gave me an earful after he found out about our... conflict, and then he pieced together why I was absent that day. Why didn’t you remind me?”

You broke away from his gaze, not prepared for the sudden query. “You are under no obligation to accompany me, so there's nothing to apologise for.”

“I absolutely have to apologise, for on the day you mourn for your late partner the most, I callously had fun with my friend.”

And there it was, his childhood friend once again stealing the spotlight in your conversation. You felt the barriers you erected creeping back into place.

“It's getting dark outside, I should head home,” you said, retracting your legs and hurriedly standing up.

However, a warm hand on your wrist carefully pulled you back down, knee bumping with yours.

“I was ensnared by my memory of her innocence from our childhood,” he confessed, voice heavy with regret. “She envied the deep connection we share and after overhearing your conversation with Yvonne, purposefully suggested a day trip to our hometown that exact day. She exploited my weakness for her gain, knowing my fond memories of our past together.”

Zayne tenderly unraveled each of your tightly clenched fingers, soothing the nail marks that had etched into your palm.

It was one of your bad habits, surfacing whenever anxiety and stress took hold. Ever the observant person that he was, it was something he was well aware of.

Your breath hitched as he wove his fingers with yours, larger palm easily covering your smaller one.

“I'm the one who foolishly let myself be blinded and stooped so low, wrongly accusing you when your intentions were nothing but good-hearted.” He swiped a hand over his face in frustration. “People praised me for my good judgement, but I evidently failed to make the most important one.”

“And so this happened?” you gestured towards his arms with your other unoccupied hand. “Punishing yourself because you felt guilty for your lapse in judgment?”

She had heard bits and pieces of what happened from Greyson. The Chief Psychologist in the hospital had noticed Zayne’s peculiar behaviour for weeks—moments of zoning out and evident emotional distress.

Not wanting to jeopardise his patient’s health, he agreed to take a leave until he felt mentally prepared to return to his responsibilities, which required a clear mind above all else.

“No, it's me losing myself because I've taken advantage of the only person who understands me; to the extent of hurting that one person who, despite knowing her for a shorter time, has selflessly always been there for me.” He placed a kiss on the back of your hand. “And fearing I may have already lost her, as I come to realize the depth of my feelings for her.”

You whipped your head to fully face him, face flushed at his confession. His gaze unwavering, trapping you with fierce affection.

“You don’t need to say anything—”

“Zayne—”

“I just want to let you know that I’m sorry for causing you pain—”

“Zayne, I—”

“And I would understand if you don’t want to do anything with me again after everything that’s happened—”

"Zayne!" You moved to cover his mouth and lost your balance in the process, tumbling together onto the bed.

Him beneath you.

As you stumbled, his hand found the curve of your hip, supporting you from falling on top of him. While his other arm remained thrown over him, fingers still intertwined with yours amidst the sudden movement.

You could see him trying to mask his discomfort, no doubt feeling some of the deeper slashes being tugged.

“God, you really need to shut up sometime,” you blurted out, catching Zayne off guard with your abrupt remark following his heartfelt revelation.

This close, you could see his pupils dilating at your close proximity, almost consuming the green in his eyes.

With profound confidence and a fuzzy feeling spreading inside your heart, you eased his mind. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The content smile painting his lips tugged at your heart. It was a genuine happiness that chipped away his usual cold demeanor. 

He squeezed your hip and slowly urged you to lay on top of him, a silent invitation to be closer. Strong arms circled around as you nestled your head against his throat, enveloping you in his scent—grounding, and slightly musky, like the scent of a forest after rainfall.

“I never want you to lose control of your Evol over me again,” you warned him, eyes closing as you felt his lips pressing on your forehead.

“I can’t promise, but—” he interjected before you could interrupt him. “I’ll work on myself for the better. It’s the least I can do for the one who holds the dearest place in my heart.”

When you opened your eyes again, you could finally pinpoint that familiar glint in his eyes, the one you noticed when you confronted him hours earlier in the living room; it was endearment.

As you lay down on his bed that night, fingers gently combing through his tousled midnight-black hair as he rested against your chest, it dawned on you that the glow of affection had been there all along, subtly shimmering in his eyes throughout the years whenever you were by his side.

⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST

[lowkeychenle]

masterlist + all about me (and nct dream)

hi everyone! name change/rebrand alert ;)

prev @/lowkeyjaemle, now @/lowkeychenle :D

i'm juls (as some of you already know) and my ult group is NCT Dream! i'm chenle biased (this will never change lol) and the majority of my blog is also chenle biased lol.

i do not have a bias wrecker. chenle is safe (although jisung is my #2, which just makes sense bc chenji is a package deal okay).

i'm 23 years old, and my pronouns are she/her. now that all this intro/boring stuff is out of the way, please keep reading for my updated masterlist ;)

p.s. if u are also a chenle stan, there are so many chenle fics here just for u

AY YO! MDNI >:(

text!au masterlist | smau masterlist

labyrinth (M) fic teaser

Chenle was more complex than you originally gave him credit for, and unfortunately for you, that would be your downfall. Lost in the labyrinth, you’ll always struggle to find your way out when the rose-colored glasses don’t let the light shine through.

the hardest part (M)

You, Chenle, and Jay have been best friends since before you could even remember. After moving away to pursue your dreams, you don't talk to them as often as you should. One day, you get a call notifying you of Jay's passing. When you go back to your hometown, you find everything is different except for one person--Chenle.

Some Things Can't Be Taught (M)

In which you are failing college physics, and your childhood best friend offers up one of his friends as your tutor—except, there’s a little something he wants to learn from you in exchange.

Guilty As Sin? (M)

Chenle is everything you want--everything you need. Somehow, the thought of him manages to pull you back in even after you were free. Messy kisses, late night trysts, and him tracing the word 'mine' on your thigh--barely anything, so how could you possibly be guilty as sin? (based on Guilty As Sin? by Taylor Swift)

And Then It Was (M)

After your marriage with Chenle was arranged by your parents for a company merger, things with him aren't quite like you expect. In your life full of obligations, he's determined to finally give you the ability to make your own choices. (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

Cruel Summer (M)

He wants you. Everything to do with you--your heart, your body, all while keeping your friendship. What's a man to do during a 30-day hook up to get you to stay? (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

See My Sea (M)

You never expected your lab partner to be the captain of the basketball team...or a decent human being, but you get proved wrong twice. Despite a rocky past of your own, you find yourself falling for him faster than you thought. Maybe, with his help, you can finally find your way home and see your sea. (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

Like We Just Met (M)

Everything else about the day is completely normal when Chenle realizes he wants to marry you. It hits him like a tidal wave, and he's itching to tell you just how much he wants to love you forever. (smut/fluff) *WC>10k

SOS (M)

Road trips with Chenle are your favorite thing. Late at night, the two of you stop at a hotel, but it's not everything it seems to be. You barely have time to settle before you get a call to evacuate immediately. Beneath red neon flashing lights, you and Chenle have to try and escape the group of people hunting you down. (suspense/thriller/smut)

this is me trying (M)

Meeting Chenle was a fluke--a good one, at that, but you never expected things to escalate the way they did. But despite the whirlwind romance, you'd go back to December if you had the chance... (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

Is It Over Now? (M) (Feat. Jisung)

Your relationship with Chenle is nothing but fight after fight. Amidst the toxicity, infidelity comes into play--except you're determined to one up him...but is it ever truly over? (angst/smut) *WC>10k

Within the Piano Keys (M)

For as long as you could remember, Chenle has been your neighbor and childhood best friend. That is, until one day he disappears without a word…or so you thought, since your mother hid all the letters he sent you. (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

Paris (M)

Pure smut on a hotel room balcony in Paris! Woo. (smut)

Sunshine (M)

You're not usually able to wake up with Chenle due to his schedules, but on the days that you can, it's certainly worth it. (smut/fluff)

Quiet Down (M)

You and Chenle visit your parents, but he just can't help himself... (smut)

You're Not Sorry

You and Chenle broke up two weeks ago. The first time he calls you at 3am, you ignore it. Then he calls again. You answer, and you go to him knowing there's nothing he could do to fix what he's broken. (angst)

The Last Straw (M)

Chenle has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. Being in love with him isn't easy, until you find out he reciprocates those feelings (thanks to Cockblocker!Jaemin). (smut/fluff/angst)

Chilled Nights, Fogged Windows (M)

After being gone for weeks, the first thing Chenle wants to do is get ice cream with you. One thing leads to another, and suddenly, you're in the backseat (oooops). (smut)

In Your Dreams (M)

What started as innocent phone sex hotline stuff (if that can ever really be innocent?), you get an offer you just can't refuse...you just have to be a little sleep deprived ;) (Chenle as Freddy Kruger Halloween thing lol)

Irrevocably (M) Series Masterlist

You were friends with benefits with Chenle until he got a girlfriend...fast forward months later, and now they've broken up--leaving Chenle to come back to you, very much in need of a distraction. (angst/smut/fluff)

Opposites Attract [Poly!Jaemle AU] Series Masterlist

Your relationship with Jaemin started out simple--friends with benefits with zero complications...until there was one. That complication's name is Zhong Chenle, and after Jaemin agrees to expand your exclusivity deal to involve him, there's only one logical thing left to do... (smut)

모래성 (ONE) (TWO) (THREE)

You and Mark have had a friends with benefits relationship for almost a year now. He's in love with you, addicted to you, but you don't feel the same. You're his poison. (smut/angst)

Late Nights (M)

Mark's busy schedule only gives him time to come over late at night, but it's safe to say neither of you are complaining by the time you fall asleep. (fluff/smut)

Empire State of Mind (M) (Feat. Jisung)

Life with Jisung is almost perfect. He loves you, and you love him. But when you run into your ex, Mark Lee, you realize the one thing you've been missing all along is him. (smut/angst)

Lost & Wayward Mini-Masterlist

After the worst couple weeks of your life, you finally break down in the middle of an alleyway. Jaemin hears you and comes to comfort you, and little do you know, he's about to change your life--in more ways than one. (fluff/smut/angst)

[despazito]

what i don't understand is how taylor swift manages to be one of the biggest pop stars in the world yet i don't know a single thing about her personality. i think they just package her up in styrofoam and whisk her away on the jet as soon as she's done being perceived by the public

[mariacallous]

As national legislation on deepfake pornography crawls its way through Congress, states across the country are trying to take matters into their own hands. Thirty-nine states have introduced a hodgepodge of laws designed to deter the creation of nonconsensual deepfakes and punish those who make and share them.

Earlier this year, Democratic congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, herself a victim of nonconsensual deepfakes, introduced the Disrupt Explicit Forged Images and Non-Consensual Edits Act, or Defiance Act. If passed, the bill would allow victims of deepfake pornography to sue as long as they could prove the deepfakes had been made without their consent. In June, Republican senator Ted Cruz introduced the Take It Down Act, which would require platforms to remove both revenge porn and nonconsensual deepfake porn.

Though there’s bilateral support for many of these measures, federal legislation can take years to make it through both houses of Congress before being signed into law. But state legislatures and local politicians can move faster—and they’re trying to.

Last month, San Francisco City Attorney David Chiu’s office announced a lawsuit against 16 of the most visited websites that allow users to create AI-generated pornography. “Generative AI has enormous promise, but as with all new technologies, there are unintended consequences and criminals seeking to exploit the new technology. We have to be very clear that this is not innovation—this is sexual abuse,” Chiu said in a statement released by his office at the time.

The suit was just the latest attempt to try to curtail the ever-growing issue of nonconsensual deepfake pornography.

“I think there's a misconception that it's just celebrities that are being affected by this,” says Ilana Beller, organizing manager at Public Citizen, which has been tracking nonconsensual deepfake legislation and shared their findings with WIRED. “It's a lot of everyday people who are having this experience.”

Data from Public Citizen shows that 23 states have passed some form of nonconsensual deepfake law. “This is such a pervasive issue, and so state legislators are seeing this as a problem,” says Beller. “I also think that legislators are interested in passing AI legislation right now because we are seeing how fast the technology is developing.”

Last year, WIRED reported that deepfake pornography is only increasing, and researchers estimate that 90 percent of deepfake videos are of porn, the vast majority of which is nonconsensual porn of women. But despite how pervasive the issue is, Kaylee Williams, a researcher at Columbia University who has been tracking nonconsensual deepfake legislation, says she has seen legislators more focused on political deepfakes.

“More states are interested in protecting electoral integrity in that way than they are in dealing with the intimate image question,” she says.

Matthew Bierlein, a Republican state representative in Michigan, who cosponsored the state’s package of nonconsensual deepfake bills, says that he initially came to the issue after exploring legislation on political deepfakes. “Our plan was to make [political deepfakes] a campaign finance violation if you didn’t put disclaimers on them to notify the public.” Through his work on political deepfakes, Bierlein says, he began working with Democratic representative Penelope Tsernoglou, who helped spearhead the nonconsensual deepfake bills.

At the time in January, nonconsensual deepfakes of Taylor Swift had just gone viral, and the subject was widely covered in the news. “We thought that the opportunity was the right time to be able to do something,” Beirlein says. And Beirlein says that he felt Michigan was in the position to be a regional leader in the Midwest, because, unlike some of its neighbors, it has a full-time legislature with well-paid staffers (most states don’t). “We understand that it's a bigger issue than just a Michigan issue. But a lot of things can start at the state level,” he says. “If we get this done, then maybe Ohio adopts this in their legislative session, maybe Indiana adopts something similar, or Illinois, and that can make enforcement easier.”

But what the penalties for creating and sharing nonconsensual deepfakes are—and who is protected—can vary widely from state to state. “The US landscape is just wildly inconsistent on this issue,” says Williams. “I think there's been this misconception lately that all these laws are being passed all over the country. I think what people are seeing is that there have been a lot of laws proposed.”

Some states allow for civil and criminal cases to be brought against perpetrators, while others might only provide for one of the two. Laws like the one that recently took effect in Mississippi, for instance, focus on minors. Over the past year or so, there have been a spate of instances of middle and high schoolers using generative AI to make explicit images and videos of classmates, particularly girls. Other laws focus on adults, with legislators essentially updating existing laws banning revenge porn.

Unlike laws that focus on nonconsensual deepfakes of minors, on which Williams says there is a broad consensus that there they are an “inherent moral wrong,” legislation around what is “ethical” when it comes to nonconsensual deepfakes of adults is “squishier.” In many cases, laws and proposed legislation require proving intent, that the goal of the person making and sharing the nonconsensual deepfake was to harm its subject.

But online, says Sara Jodka, an attorney who specializes in privacy and cybersecurity, this patchwork of state-based legislation can be particularly difficult. “If you can't find a person behind an IP address, how can you prove who the person is, let alone show their intent?”

Williams also notes that in the case of nonconsensual deepfakes of celebrities or other public figures, many of the creators don’t necessarily see themselves as doing harm. “They’ll say, ‘This is fan content,’ that they admire this person and are attracted to them,” she says.

State laws, Jobka says, while a good start, are likely to have limited power to actually deal with the issue, and only a federal law against nonconsensual deepfakes would allow for the kind of interstate investigations and prosecutions that could really force justice and accountability. “States don't really have a lot of ability to track down across state lines internationally,” she says. “So it's going to be very rare, and it's going to be very specific scenarios where the laws are going to be able to even be enforced.”

But Michigan’s Bierlein says that many state representatives are not content to wait for the federal government to address the issue. Bierlein expressed particular concern about the role nonconsensual deepfakes could play in sextortion scams, which the FBI says have been on the rise. In 2023, a Michigan teen died by suicide after scammers threatened to post his (real) intimate photos online. “Things move really slow on a federal level, and if we waited for them to do something, we could be waiting a lot longer,” he says.

[impalaimagining]

Super, Super Bowl

Dean Winchester x Reader

950 words

Note: Unbeta'd, unedited. Slammed my keyboard while my kids watched Mickey Mouse. This is the result.

Dean’s man cave. The biggest television you’d ever seen, the comfiest reclining chairs you’d ever sat in, the coldest refrigerator known to man - the perfect place for a Super Bowl party. Dean was going to have the game on anyway, why not make the most of it?

Halfway through the season, headlines started popping up everywhere - about Taylor Swift. Taylor Swift. And football. 

What?

Turned out she was dating Travis Kelce, some dude from the Kansas City Chiefs. Dean watched the Kansas City games religiously, as long as he was in the bunker, or, if by some magical power of the universe, the motel TV could pick it up. The groan that escaped Dean when Taylor Swift started showing up on the screen once they publicly outed their relationship was nothing short of hilarious.

It started out small, the way you taunted and teased Dean about her being ever-present. You wore a friendship bracelet with the number 87 on it - Travis’s jersey number. You bought a beanie, white and red, like the one Taylor was seen wearing at one of the colder games. You managed to snag a Kelce jersey online during a flash sale when the Chiefs were headed to the playoffs.

It came to a head when you found a shop on Etsy selling sweatshirts that said, “in my football era” in bubbly pink lettering. Everything looked good - great, even - for the Chiefs on the path to the Super Bowl. Dean watched you open the package when you got home from the post office and with the eye-roll he gave, you were honestly a little concerned that he’d strain an orbital muscle.

“Leave me alone.” You huffed, concealing a smile.

“As long as she doesn’t show up as a surprise halftime show guest, I don’t give a damn about her.” Dean grumbled, heading toward his hideaway.

You lingered in the library, slumping down into the couch while you scrolled through endless suggested, targeted posts about Taylor Swift and her boyfriend, her boyfriend’s brother and his family, her boyfriend’s mom, the suite they’d be sitting in for the game. You name it and there was a blurb about it online. Jarring you out of your screen-induced daze, Dean’s voice rattled through the concrete halls.

“What the hell is going on in here?!”

A smirk pulled on the right side of your lips as you set your phone down beside you and painted on your best innocent face. Dean’s socked feet managed to sound as heavy as his boots as they pounded back to the library.

“Do you care to explain what exactly happened in there?” He pursed his lips, brows raised.

You shrugged, still feigning innocence. “What happened in there?” 

“Don’t get cute.” He folded his arms over his chest. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Is Sam pranking you again? I thought you two moved on from that.” You furrowed your brows in faux confusion. “Aren’t you a little old for practical jokes?”

“No, Sam - Sam doesn’t have anything to do with that monstrosity. What did you do to my man cave?!” You stood and took a step toward Dean, already wearing your new sweatshirt. “All of you are crazy. Every single on of her fans is insane.” He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Excuse you.” You scoffed. “We’re not called fans, Dean. We’re swifties.” With an extra sway in your hips, you sauntered down the hall to the room Dean was so up-in-arms about. When you got to the door, you giggled and stood proudly before your work. “I don’t get it. What’s wrong? It looks great in here.”

Dean’s exasperation sputtered from his mouth as he searched for words to express just how ruffled his feathers were. “It’s - it’s - there’s - you deflowered the sanctity of my man cave!”

You tipped your head back with a cackle. “I what?”

“You ruined it!” Dean threw his arms out toward the walls.

Ruined it.

You scoffed. You thought you did a wonderful job of sticking to the theme. Across the room, in plain view as soon as you walked through the door, a shimmery red curtain served as the backdrop to a table. The table was covered with a Chiefs tablecloth, and on the tablecloth sat a red-mirrored disco-football. Beside the football was a charcuterie board - or boards, really. One shaped like the number eight and one shaped like the number seven. Cupcakes with gold flakes and tiny footballs stood on a tiered tower. An array of red drinks lined the lefthand side of the table - Shirley Temples, except they were sparkly too, thanks to the edible glitter you swirled into them. Hanging behind the table, strung across the shiny backdrop, you made and hung three rows of garland - garland designed to look like a friendship bracelet made from pony beads and white, lettered beads that read “IN MY,” next line, “SUPER BOWL,” last line, “ERA.” On the adjacent wall, there was another table, far less aesthetically pleasing, decked out with chips, salsa, guacamole, pretzels, dips, a crockpot full of meatballs beside a basket of rolls.

It looked fantastic.

“I don’t understand.” You walked in and twirled around, arms open. “This looks like the perfect way to celebrate the Swift Bowl.”

“WHAT?!” Dean’s eyes bulged from their sockets.

Another loud laugh escaped you as you clapped your hands together. “Dean, it’s just a football game.” You shook your head and stood beside him, both of you looking at, but with far different feelings about, the red glittery glow surrounding you. “I’ll take the decorations down tomorrow. I promise.”

Dean released a long, loud sigh and closed his eyes. “Fine, but I swear if I hear even one second of her music, I-”

“Aw, c’mon Dean.” Sam clapped Dean’s shoulder as he walked by, stepping into the man cave and dipping a chip in salsa. “You gotta just,” Sam’s face twisted as he tried to conceal a wide grin, “shake it off.”

Forever Tags: @atc74 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @beththedemonhunter @blacktithe7 @caswinchester2000 @chelseadanielle19 @countrygal17a @danathewitchywoman @deansgirl7695 @deanwanddamons @dena111923 @elizzysnow13 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @emoryhemsworth @esoltis280 @essie1876 @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @heartsaved @hillface89 @holyfuckloueh @hunterpuff @in-deans-arms @ladylachesis @lilredniki @linki-locks11 @mottergirl99 @mrswhozeewhatsis @notyourtypicalrose @plaid-lover-bay25 @riversong-sam @sandlee44 @sea040561 @shaelyn102 @smoothdogsgirl @soulmates8 @speakinvain @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnbaby-67 @supernatural3002 @superromijn @tumblr-tidbits @vicmc624 @voltage-my2dlove @wayward-gypsy

Dean Tags: @adoptdontshoppets @akshi8278 @cherrycokegirlsblog @clarewinchester @dean-winchesters-bacon @deanandsamsbitch @deansgirl215 @fandom-princess-forevermore @iamabeautifulperson18 @lessons-of-red @mereka18 @princessofthefandomrealm @shamelesslydean @torn-and-frayed @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou

[writingsbychlo]

okay but the world needs a how would the 🐍 boys react to a taylor swift concert (and if you categorized them by album i would also not be mad)

😘💋

for you, my love? anything 😌

slytherin boys + taylor swift concert/albums

draco: draco is impartial. it’s not his typical music taste but he will hum to songs when you play them, he knows you like them. he hires someone to make sure he gets really good tickets and says you can take anyone when he surprises you with them. when you say you want to take him, he fucking loves it. he doesn’t show it, but knowing you’d share something so special with him, it makes him so happy. would wear a basic fit, lets be real. would pay someone to custom make your outfit for your favourite album, though. also, he bought tickets to a tour spot of a place you’ve always wanted to visit and he makes it a whole vacation. splashes cash for extra packages. rich boy vibes. he’d never admit it to anyone but he has listened to All Too Well (10 min version) when he’s in his emo moments.

he’s giving Red, though, and would make the effort to sing along to any songs he knows enough of just to see you smile. like tell me he isn’t giving the youthful innocence of 22 but also I Knew You Were Trouble, like???

mattheo: has an alarm set for tickets and tries to get them so eagerly with you. again, not his usual music taste, but his has been known to scream-sing Shake It Off when drunk. would wear a toned down outfit to match whatever you’re wearing and would absolutely wear any bracelets you make him. holds all your belongings so you don’t have to worry about anything. holds your hand the whole time and sings with you. you’d stay in a fancy hotel overnight the day before and after, he wanted to make it special. buys matching tour hoodies with you.

he’s giving Fearless, like lets be real, The Way I Loved You was written for him. he isn’t ashamed to admit he loves that album, though. that dedication of slightly toxic but mostly just obsessed love, sweet and adorable first love feelings, y’know?

theo: asked if you’d seen there was a tour coming up and chuckled at your excitement when you screamed yes. gets tickets when you don’t manage to and makes a joke like ‘how many boyfriend points did this just earn me?’ spoiler: it’s a lot. wears all your bracelets that you make on one arm and helps you make trades with people. researches the set list to make sure he knows all the lyrics to any possible songs that might play so he can sing with you, but already knows quite a lot. not ashamed to listen to her if he’s with you or missing you. buys you any merch you want, has so many bags to be taken home.

his album is Folklore, just because I think the hazy indie suit him. august is friends-to-lovers with him after spending the summer with his family in italy. change my mind, you can’t.

enzo: baby boy goes all out for this. he’s so lover coded, but he knows all the albums very well. listens to her music with or without you and is proud of it. you sat together to book tickets and try to double your chances and it worked. not only wears and trades bracelets but makes them with you, makes his own set to swap with people too. looks for celebrities and gets to excited when he spots them. he’s the kinda guy to propose during Love Story. matching outfits, matching merch. you guys both have lost your voices the next day and he can’t stop grinning about it. is convinced taylor made eye contact with him. would wear a custom outfit with you, too.

his album is Lover. no doubt. he’s a cutie pie and he’s so pastel-sunshine-sparkles-love. Paper Rings? he belts that. You Need To Calm Down? he bodies it with so much sass just to see you giggle. London Boy? I don’t even need to say.

tom: hears you didn’t get tickets and starts pulling strings to get them for you because you were sad. tries to be casual and just leave them on your desk one day, but can’t help his smile when you burst into his dorm at 11pm and kiss him stupid for it. is willing to let you pick his outfit as long as you make it ‘normal’. you guys match but in a subtle way. like mattheo, books a hotel for before and after, and also will hold your things. doesn’t sing along but he’s not a buzzkill, y’know? stands with his arms wrapped around your waist the whole time, sways slightly to the music for you. he will spin you occasionally. so defensive when you’re looking at merch, growls at someone to fuck off while they still have teeth for telling you to hurry up and pick. gets a hoodie when you tell him it would look good on him and actually wears it for you. also buys the special packages like sound checks etc.

Reputation. you’re gonna look me in my eyes and tell me Look What You Made Me Do isn’t his anthem? if he had a gun to his head he would name that as his favourite song.

bonus for you bc we’re talking abt him right now: all I’m gonna say is reggie + enchanted. that’s it, that’s all.

[oharapussy]

“lyla, what does miguel want for his birthday?”

another spiderdads x reader fic, this time miguel’s birthday 🙏🏼🙏🏼

as always minors dni!

“lyla, what does miguel want for his birthday?” you asked, her tiny frame facing her back to you.

peter had sent you on this mission weeks before, knowing you wouldn’t crack miguel so easily. he was a private person: he wouldn’t like a party, or any big show of it. each time you asked him, he shrugged you off, as if there wasn’t time to entertain such a question. lyla was perhaps the only one who would know, and as she was constantly, silently, conspiring against him, she took great pleasure in what you had asked.

“miguel was very intentional in how i was programmed,” she pouted. “i’m not supposed to entertain those kinds of questions.”

“come on,” you pressed, curious. she rolled her eyes, screens instantly materializing around her.

“i’ll cross-reference his search history on his downtime with his online shopping carts,” she said, tapping away. “he doesn’t keep these private from m-“

oh.

you both instantly froze at what appeared on the screens, both video and text.

“guy pegged with strap-on”

“girl and guy tagteam friend”

“brunette top fucks bear stupid”

“best vibrators for beginner anal play”

oh my fucking god.

“well… there you go,” lyla said, flickering away in an instant, leaving you in the darkness of your office.

you weren’t sure what to tell peter.

—

miguel came back from the gym late at night, beads of sweat still trickling at his hairline. discarding his things at the kitchen counter, he made his way to his bedroom. a mix of curiosity and lust bubbled in his stomach: you both had been dropping hints at him all day. it had started with a pair of panties lazily hanging against his desk, building up to the new, state-of-the-art vibrator now lying on his bed, still in its packaging.

taking him by surprise, you wrapped your arms around his waist, kissing his neck. peter followed, holding his jaw and pulling him into a kiss, full and long. he whined softly against the attack, almost melting against the touch.

“happy birthday, migi,” peter said, smiling into the kiss. in a swift move, he pushed miguel against the bed, his cock already hard and twitching in his sweats. “now take your fucking pants off.”

with your help, his dick burst from his pants within a few seconds, his tip wet, desperate to fuck something.

“god, you’re pathetic, already so fucking hard for us, baby,” you teased. he twitched at the insult, hips grinding against nothing. “well, what do you say? want us to fuck you dumb, honey?”

“please,” he whined. the poor thing had been in charge for so long, he hardly knew how to be so submissive.

peter sat with his back against the bed’s headboard, legs wide to accommodate miguel’s broad shoulders. he let out soft moans as miguel reached ever-closer to the base of his cock, gasping against the new pressure in his throat. peter’s hands were in the tangle of his hair, calling him pretty names all the while. from behind, you had finally worked the strap around your hips.

“how bad do you want this dick?” you bullied, grinding it into his thigh. reaching in front, you circled the tip of his dick with his fingers, really getting him going.

“just fuck me already, mamí, please,” he cried out, pulling his mouth from peter. he bucked his hips backward, almost trying to catch your tip.

steadying his hips with your hands, you pushed into his hole, causing him to cry out with such an intensity, you feared you would wake his neighbors. kissing his wide back, you rubbed his stomach, helping him accommodate the size, before beginning to pump it inside him.

the rutting motion caused him to sink deeper onto peter, making both the men gasp and whine in a way that you had never seen before. why hadn’t you done this sooner?

“good boy, honey,” peter managed, looking at how close he was, highly-evident in his face.

blissed out of his mind, he came some moments later, cock weeping and grinding into the sheets for relief. pushing him past it, you began to hit that sweet spot inside him even harder. you didn’t think it was possible for someone to cum so much. by the end, he was a complete whimpering mess, only capable of begging to be fucked.

[wttcsms]

A YAN ISAGI FIC OH WE CHEEREDDDDD!!! I LIT HAVE BEEN SEARCHING FOR YAN BLLK FIC FOR SUCH A LONG TIME HELLO??? AND WITH YOUR WRITING?? YEAH ITS GONNA EAT. PLS CAN YOU TELL ME ABT take my hand (take my whole life too)🗣️🗣️🙏🙏

ik this fic is gonna gag me omg

it was such a yummy request from a really sweet follower!!! im so excited to work on it because isagi canonically is like a mastermind/the final boss of male manipulators (PLS we've all seen him putting the puzzle pieces together on the field 😭 imagine when he actually HAS time to think and put his plans for you into action...) it features a singer!reader whose career is doing really well. think, taylor swift in her 1989 era, where her girl friend group was iconic and full of models and whatnot. so, reader is surrounded by equally famous and successful girls. reader has a string of bad relationships; her exes cheat on her, or they dismiss her, or they're jealous of her success. you've never been in a really decent relationship, and if you have, it's just the honeymoon phase (which never lasts long). you're about to give up on all men, honestly.

enter in isagi. isagi, who is the sweetest boy in the world, and is the definition of a man. he's dating one of your model besties, but he considers your whole friend group a package deal. when he treats her, he treats all of y'all. (that world cup money is coming through). he's in good standing with all of you, and everyone in your group is like "ugh why don't they make men like yoichi isagi!!!!"

if only they knew about what type of man isagi is. because he IS a sweetheart. he IS a gentleman. any girl lucky enough to date him will be given princess treatment. but at the end of the day, he's just a man. the type of man who, when he sets his eyes on a goal, always scores. and right now — no, since the beginning — he's only ever had eyes for you.

it's almost a bit of a psychological thriller (not really but idk how else to describe it) where we get a majority of the fic from YOUR pov, so you're oblivious to his advances and his feelings for the most part, but he becomes one of your closest friends and confidantes, even after he breaks up with your friend (because he's such an upstanding guy, the breakup was amicable and he still remains in your friend group bc everyone loves him). the more time you spend with isagi, the more you realize that you're catching feelings. there are moments where you're vulnerable and anyone would take advantage (like when you're drunk and your minidress is riding up and you're practically grinding your body all over him) but he remains a perfect gentleman which only makes you fall even more for him.

so you try to play at being a mastermind and to get him to fall in love with you, and he thinks it's adorable, really, how you think you're pulling the strings. how you're "coincidentally" in the same spots as him, not knowing that he chose to be here at a time that fits in with your schedule in the first place. finally, when it gets to be too much for you to handle, you literally resort to trying to seduce him, and he plays oblivious, acting like he didn't know you liked him this whole time, even though he's been waiting for you to return his feelings. there's lots of nsfw sprinkled throughout too 🤭 like isagi having to excuse himself from a party so he can jack off in the bathroom bc you just looked too pretty at the party or you having vivid wet dreams abt isagi, and all this anticipation just builds up 'til you finally pounce on him for real.

(the ending is so fun because you shyly admit to him all about your mastermind schemes to get him alone with you, and he smiles, saying you're so cute and how you managed to pull one over him.

when the whole entire time, he's been pulling the strings himself <3)

[buffyromanoff]

I dont know anything but I know I miss you

Highschool AU. Natasha Romanoff x reader

Inspired by the Taylor Swift song ''Betty'', requested by @robinandnat (hope u like it!)

Word count: 1063

Summary: School is over and so is y/n and Nat's relationship...or is it?

Warnings: Teen angst, FLUFF, happy ending

Did I make the right choice? Was it truly the best for both of us? Do I still love her? Countless questions raced through your mind, tormenting you as you tried to make sense of your actions. Tears streamed down your face as you hurried home, desperate to avoid anyone seeing you in such a pathetic state. Unfortunately, hiding seemed impossible.

Whispers filled the hallways, making it clear that you weren't very good at hiding your pain. Thank god today was the last day of school cause there was no way you could survive having everyone’s eyes on you. 

Nat was everything you could have ever asked for. She had this incredible way of caring for you, making you laugh, and being so incredibly smart. And let's not forget how she'd always lend a helping hand with your homework. She was the kind of girlfriend who had your back no matter what. But deep down, you couldn't help but feel like a piece of crap. How could you break her heart like this? You kept telling yourself it was for her own good, but the question tormented you: Was it really?

Lately you've been going through a strange phase, and despite Nat's unwavering support, you pushed her away. It's tough to be in a relationship when you don't even know yourself well enough, so, you convinced yourself she'd be better off without you.

As the weeks went by, you couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling of missing her. You'd ask your mutual friends how she was doing, desperately seeking any news. At first, she was devastated, just like you, but somehow she managed to hold it together better than you did. Your closest friends couldn't fathom why you broke it up. "You and Nat were made for eachother y/n! You totally deserve her!" they'd say trying to lift up your confidence and self esteem. Little did they know, there was a secret you never shared, not even with Nat herself. It all started when you accidentally overheard her friends gossiping about you during lunch. They all agreed that you weren't up to Nat's level, and unfortunately, those words stabbed you in the heart.

Suddenly your phone rang. It was a text message from your mutual friend Wanda:

-I was at Nat’s today helping her set everything up for tonight and y/n……….she wouldn't shut up about you -

-Tonight? What are talking about? - You texted her, but Wanda was known for her late replies.

Your day went on as usual.

Summer used to be your favorite part of the year, but they were no fun without a lover.

Trying to distract yourself, you started the daunting task of tidying up your chaotic bedroom.  This was your first real breakup and you were not handling it well.

As you were about to finish cleaning everything up, you found a  neatly wrapped package.

What was in it? You had no clue. You opened it up and now everything made sense.

NATASHA’S BIRTHDAY PARTY!.

Months ago, you had tirelessly scoured every library in town looking for an old copy of a vintage book your then-girlfriend wanted but wasn't finding anywhere. You sighed. You were saving it for her birthday. How unfortunate.

Your phone buzzed: It was Wanda, finally:

-Bday party dummy. Dont tell me you forgot :/ she really misses you btw-

‘’Fuck it’’ you muttered. And without giving it much of a thought, you put on your best outfit and hopped on your skateboard, heading straight for the party.

When you passed by her house, you couldn't breathe. The house was packed with people- her friends, including those who believed you weren't right for her. What were you doing here!? Go back! Go back!- Nervousness took over your body, causing you to trip and fall off your skateboard. And of course, people laughed.

When you stood up, you saw Nat standing on the porch of her house, looking at you.

She appeared…happy?

‘y/n…I- what are you doing here?’’ she asked, attempting to hide her smile, yet her eyes sparkled with delight.

‘Happy birthday’’ you said, handing her the gift. The sheer joy on her face made you grin like a fool as she opened it.

"Oh my god! Where—how did you find it? Thank you, y/n...I don't know what to say’’.

"You’re welcome Natty’’. Wait- did you really just call her that? Who refers to their ex with a pet name?. "Well, um, have a good night, Nat." You reached for your skateboard, ready to make your exit, but she stopped you.

‘Wait!’’. She sounded desperate. ‘’You don't have to go, it doesn't have to be like this. I know you don't like me anymore but-’’ . She sniffled. ‘I miss you....please stay?’’.

Natasha didn't hate you. Natasha missed you. SHE MISSED YOU.

Your heart was racing, everyone was watching the scene and you knew there were only 2 ways this could end: You could walk away or…

In a bold move, you dropped your skateboard and, cupping her face in your hands, you kissed her.

The wooing noises and teasing remarks from her friends were making you so embarrassed but you didn't care. Nothing mattered. No one’s thoughts did. The only thing that mattered is that you loved Nat and she loved you.

--------------------

As the party came to an end, you found a quiet moment to sit down and have a heartfelt conversation with her.

"I'm sorry I didn't notice my friends saying those things, y/n," she expressed, clearly upset.

"What? Baby, no, it's not your fault," you reassured her, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. "I was the one who closed off and failed to communicate what I was going through... and it led to hurting you."

"Okay, hold on, no crying on my birthday," Nat interrupted, laughing softly as she gently wiped away your tears. Leaning in, she pressed a sweet kiss against your cheek. "We're together now," she whispered, her arms wrapping you in a warm embrace. "Everything will be alright, sweetie."

You mumbled a response, your voice barely audible. "What was that, hon?"  her eyes filled with curiosity. "Did you like my present then?" You said.

She nodded with a smile spreading across her face. "Yes, but I like this one even more," she confessed, tightening her embrace.

Oh, how you’d missed her.

[corneliaavenue]

What is Billie saying about Taylor?

There have been a lot of little things over the years

In 2020, when Taylor won the Billboard Woman of the Decade, she talked about all of the new up and coming women in the industry and specifically highlighted Billie because she was winning Woman of the Year that year. First thing Billie says when its her turn, "Yalls speeches were long as fuck!" (note, Taylor's speech was 15 minutes and she does go on to talk nice about Taylor later in her speech)

In 2022, Damon Albarn shaded Taylor saying she didn't write all of her music while simultaneously cheering on Billie and Finneas for writing all of their music. Taylor clapped back in a tweet. Billie then invites Damon out later that year for her Coachella set, where Finneas was overheard saying "Taylor Swift is going to sue us"

In March of this year, Billie talks to Billboard about the act of releasing multiple variants and how wasteful it is. "We live in this day and age where, for some reason, it’s very important to some artists to make all sorts of different vinyl and packaging … which ups the sales and ups the numbers and gets them more money and gets them more" and "some of the biggest artists in the world making f–king 40 different vinyl packages that have a different unique thing just to get you to keep buying more. It’s so wasteful, and it’s irritating to me that we’re still at a point where you care that much about your numbers and you care that much about making money"

Billie's manager has been liking and even retweeting several Taylor hate tweets.

Billie talked about albums being too long on Zane Lowe, but she was talking about her previous album Happier Than Ever when discussing it, so I will only side eye. "I think for that one we just didn’t put that much into it. That’s why there’s 16 songs. Nobody needs that many songs"

Last night, Billie's interview with Stationhead came out where she said that "Doing a 3 hour show.. That's literally psychotic. Nobody wants that. You guys don't want that. I don't want that. I don't even want that as a fan. Even my favorite artists I'm not trying to hear them for 3 hours. That's far too long.

Billie now has multiple versions of her album to purchase including paint splattered, discounted on iTunes to $5, and physical copies discounted at Targets for somehone who thinks its wasteful to make multiple different vinyl packages and it is disingenuous to up her sales and numbers

[cosmicobubisi]

Cosmic's Malleyuu Whump vs Flufftober: Day 11

convenience store | loneliness | "leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist" (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs) / Ingredients & Spells

After all these years, he still hadn't gotten used to the harsh, flickering lighting of the store.

It provided the slightest bit of mental stimulation, however, in these long nights.

Malleus thought about a great number of things while he worked the counter, metaphoically chasing his own tail as he engaged in endless arguments with himself about books, music, history, and anything else his mind could grasp on.

He'd wanted to try movies, wanting to understand what could be done with the ability to meld so many art forms, but his father, while not forbidding it outright, never liked it when they watched too much TV.

But of course, there was little his father liked about Malleus.

One of the many endless arguments he had with himself, standing motionless at the counter, was on whether or not his father liked him or not.

Some days, it was easier to argue for the defense. On others, he found himself slipping into the role of 'prosecutor' with ease.

The main argument for the former was that he'd kept Malleus. He'd grown up hearing about his father's two great loves, his mother and their mutual friend, and how empty his life had been after they had passed.

Malleus was a lot like his mother, as his father liked to remind him frequently. He knew his father didn't mean it maliciously- at least, not always.

But it was that undercurrent of bitterness that fueled his argument to the contrary.

The match between his mother and his father was an unbalanced one, and as a result of that, his father explained, he didn't often know how to care for Malleus, which is why he had all these strict rules.

He never knew whether it was these unholy traits, or his simple resemblance to her, or the reminder of the life he'd lost, that had left it impossible for his father to look him in the eyes past a certain age.

His father's fears of television weren't totally unfounded. Nor were his father's general fears of his own son.

Sealed milk was fine, but milk left to sit out tended to curdle around Malleus. Cut flowers in vases seemed to wilt extraordinarily fast when he was at home, so his father stopped bringing them in. And animals never stuck around him for long.

They'd tried to go to a petting zoo once, but when all of the rabbits backed away from him and pressed their tails up to their cages, he realized they only stayed because they could not run away.

Malleus didn't always stay on one topic for the entirety of one night, preferring to jump around to the most interesting parts of his discussions, chewing on these bits of conversation like a bone. The one time he did, however, manage to focus on just one idea for the whole night, he came to the conclusion that it must be a shadow of an existence, to resent a child born of so much love.

He was ripped quite suddenly out of his thoughts by the most shocking, surprising thing of all- the digital chime of the bell, and the swing of the door.

Malleus watched in stupefaction as the stranger gave them a small smile, and them began rummaging through the stages of cellophane food and prepackaged cups of soup.

He never swayed. Malleus usually stood stone-still in the best of cases, and it had been a source of ridicule in the past, but right now, his every muscle was tensed, like that one time a butterfly had landed on his nose.

The stranger's face was mostly obscured by the hood they wore over their head, and the shadow it cast covered most of the rest. Only their mouth was visible, and that told Malleus very little.

They took a can of soda from the fridges, then put it back. instead, they grabbed a pack of banana chips, a little toothbrush, two individually-packaged painkillers, and then went back for the soda, as well as a bottle of ginger ale.

Malleus couldn't help but feel the tiniest of pinpricks in his heart at that. He loved banana chips, and his favorite drink in the store by far was the ginger ale. It was his drink of choice, and the combination was his go-to snack, as he was allowed to pick two items every night he worked.

This small, insignificant connection to a complete stranger knocked him so off-kilter that he hardly noticed when they plunked their stuff onto the counter.

Jolting out of his rapture, he picked up the banana chips and scanned them, instinct kicking in.

He moved to drop them into a bag, but the stranger said, "I don't need a bag, thanks."

They said it so routinely, as if they refused plastic bags all the time. Slowly, he placed it back onto the counter, but a little farther away from the rest of the purchases.

He scanned the ginger ale, savoring its coolness beneath his fingertips, when the stranger said, "Are you here a lot?"

Malleus looked at them for a moment, ginger ale in hand.

"Yes," he said, believing he should answer honestly.

"That's good, that's cool," said the stranger. "Must be nice, to stay in one place for so long."

Another thing his father didn't like is when he got too close to other people, emotionally or physically. He always stressed the necessity to leave no trace anywhere he went, to exist as if he simply didn't.

"It can be," he replied, feeling his heart race.

"You guys have a lot of good stuff here," said the stranger, inspecting a few of the smaller goods they kept on the counter.

They were holding a packet of mints between their fingers, Malleus unable to take their eyes off of them as he scanned the travel toothbrush, when something like recogntion flashed through them, and they hastily threw some gum, then one of the little energy drinks, onto the counter.

Malleus looked at them, and they shrugged. "These too, please."

He acquiesced.

"Do you mind if I give you my contact info?" they asked suddenly.

Malleus was caught offguard by the question for no more than a moment, but the stranger was already pulling out something from there pocket.

"Here," they said, handing him a business card. On it, the words "Yuu | Certified Geological Surveyor | Paranormal Investigator | Confectioner" with some contact info below that.

"Can I contact you? About when you guys get in new stuff?" the stranger, whose named he assumed was Yuu, asked.

"Yes," he said again, not knowing how else to respond as Yuu handed him some cash.

"Great," they said, picking up their stuff. "I'll see you again."

As they walked out of the store, their hood fell, revealing a grey cat wrapped around their neck.

Unsure of what else to do, Malleus watched them until they left, and then turned back to face the racks of food in cellophane, stilling as he always did.

[theredtours]

mmm scammers on Amazon sent me a package today using a tactic called “brushing” (which you can look up here), but the joke’s really on them because all they managed to do was send me two free Taylor Swift CDs and also get reported, so thanks, scammers!

[ladystarksneedle]

Greedy

Summary: A lady at sea finds warmth amidst its endless waters.

Warnings: angst, mentions of voyeurism, infidelity, period typical sexism and misogyny, derogatory language, rumor mongering, slight canon divergence.

Word count: 7.5k

Dividers by @saradika

She clawed at the threads in her lap, entangling them for the third time as her husband droned on about the costs of war. There were ramparts, fortifications and more men needed at Tarth to stop the incursion of the Triarchy that he spoke of, agitating himself further as he paced before her, taking her absent minded humming in response to be borne out of interest. The “War of the Stepstones" as it had come to be known, was the newest point of conversation throughout the realm from the Blackwater to the Bay of Crabs, with every household eager to contribute their share of mockery, awe or support. The Valyrians, she thought, had always managed to entrench everyone in their affairs.

Sadly she hadn't found an inch of interest in the one before her.

She had been delivered to Claw Isle almost a year ago, packaged rather gaudily in fabrics of silk and gold, to be unwrapped by the lord of salty seas and misty air. He'd torn in rather clumsily, mistaking haste for pleasure, like a crab feasting at her shore, yet no tears came to her, all the salt had seemingly washed away before she'd entered Crackclaw point. The castle stood surprisingly tall, jutting out of the small island located to the south of Dragonstone, close enough to hear the roars of the beasts of long forgotten might and far enough to be sheltered from their unexpected wrath. She'd often look out her window, imagining what they'd look like, though a year had passed and she had yet to catch a glimpse of them. Some of the locals claimed they'd seen one, a “gray ghost” they'd called it, as elusive as the fog lining the seas, scaring away the fishermen trying to make their catch for the day. They were baseless rumors to her, all the same, recited idly at tea by the ladies of the Point, when they'd run out of their keepsake of slanders. Dragons to her were beasts of myth and true as they might be, posed no consequence to her life, until now.

“Prince Daemon has assembled an army of ten thousand men with Lord Corlys Velaryon. It would be folly to not join such an endeavor.”

“You mean to join the war?” she asked incredulously “We hardly have the numbers.”

“If those shipping lanes fall it affects us all dear wife or have you not been paying attention.”

“I have, husband” she huffed “But decisions made in haste cost dearly. Claw Isle boasts enough wealth to tide us through this predicament without meriting involvement, as you've proclaimed countless times yourself, why then should we waste our men and resources?”

“You're a woman Belinda and as witty as you might be, you do not understand the consequences of uninvolvement. Tarth may very well be under siege as we speak” he remarked.

“And what has the King to say for this expedition undertaken by his brother, I doubt it is with his full consent, ten thousand men seems quite less of a number for a royal army does it not?” she replied back “But yes you're right, I'm just a woman, what would I know about numbers when it is your forte dear husband. I shall leave you to your accounts in peace” she said as she left his chambers with a swift peck to his cheek, quick to evade his reply.

“You must learn when to keep your mouth shut daughter, the ability to do so shall last you long” her mother's words were tight around her neck, a noose waiting to throttle her should she stray too far and though she hadn't managed to keep her wayward tongue in check, she'd found out soon enough that scraps of affection meted out at opportune moments often did the trick.

Dinner proved to be less in her favor. Bartimos was ever eager in spirit, having invited the lords of the neighboring keeps to convene on pretext of merriment. While she sat drinking with the ladies whispering animatedly amongst themselves at the other end of the hall, she realized just how hard headed he could really be. Perhaps her mother was right and there was still more to learn.

“Have you heard the tales of Lady Swann? It is such a tragedy. I've heard she's been sold to a pillow house in Lys”

“She was always a wild one, I've heard. I'm sure she'll do just fine there” chirped Lady Crabb, ever the glutton at any such occasion.

“You have quite the tongue Lady Crabb, you must learn to hold it lest you earn the likeness of the Crabfeeder himself” snickered another.

“Perhaps he styles himself after your own lord husband” remarked Lady Brunes, her fellow at arms of wit.

“Jest all you want ladies, but there is some truth to it. My husband was knighted at the mere age of four and ten, how many of yours can claim such laurels. It will be him who'll bring glory back to Crackclaw point and you'll be all the fools for it” huffed Lady Crabb clawing at the pearls around her neck.

Being the youngest among them had its merits in times like these. Despite being the hostess she was seldom asked her opinions, merely considered to be in accordance with the consensus they reached as the wine dried up and their husbands returned to eagerly escort them back home. Feasts in the Crownlands often had one way of ending, with most of them on their backs. As the bed creaked below her, she realized her’s would be a happy one. Sweaty and sated, she lay next to him as he struggled to catch his breath, exhausting himself to fruition this once. Bartimos seemed to outperform whenever he had a point to make, in matters that required more convincing on his part. She only wished they were more in number and came more often.

“We shall leave for Driftmark in three days' time” he said as he turned to sleep, blowing off the candles near them. “It is a good thing Belinda, you'll come to realize soon enough. You'll even get to see those dragons you've been so curious about.”

“They do not interest me as much as you think” she thought “But if admitting to it makes you more amiable in bed I might as well go set up camp there, husband” she pondered as she drifted off to sleep dreaming of distant roars and crashing waves engrossed in a hazy tussle of their own.

Driftmark proved to be a much grander island. They'd sailed for a day to get there, bypassing Dragonstone on the way. The captain of their ship had pointed it out, a black speck of monstrous rock jutting out from the coast, with a multitude of deep rumbles reverberating through the masts, as they had sailed past. It felt ominous and rather insidious, intriguing enough for her to want to halt and explore for the first time since they'd left, but her husband wished for no time to be wasted and ordered them to sail ahead. High Tide shone bright under the sun as they'd arrived, its pale stone greeting them in a stark contrast to the home of their Valyrian overlords. The Castle was said to have been newly built by Lord Corlys with all the wealth he'd amassed on his nine voyages, its turrets gleaming haughtily at them with their beaten silver tops. They'd been ushered in shortly, with their infantry in tow to the “Hall of Nine” in attendance before him as he sat atop the Driftwood Throne.

“We welcome you to High Tide, Lord Bartimos. The support of the Celtigars, in these trying times is much appreciated” he boomed.

“Thank you for your graciousness Lord Corlys” he smiled as she fidgeted near him.

“Perhaps your lady wife would like to rest as we get to the matter at hand, the journey would have been quite tiring for those not accustomed to it” he said as she was ushered away to the depths of the Castle by one of the Velaryon ladies nearby.

“Princess Rhaenys shall receive you my lady, please follow me. I am Daena, cousin to Corlys in case you're wondering. We have assembled here to convene on our own council” she stated, leading her up the winding stairs to a hall overlooking the Bay. At its head sat none other than the lady of the manor, Rhaenys Targaryen, a tall woman with a welcoming smile in tow “Lady Celtigar so good of you to join us, welcome to High Tide.”

There were more than a dozen ladies in the room who turned to look at her, the Velaryons with their teal dresses and silver locks, a few from Crackclaw point that she recognised immediately, ladies Crabb and both the Brunes, of Dyre Den and Brownhollow, ladies Bar Emmon and Staunton and a few stromlanders judging by the intricate braids on their heads who greeted her in response. Lady Daena led her to her seat as they resumed speaking, each advocating for their preferred course of action. As she observed their leader at the head of the table listening intently to each prompt she wondered why a dragon rider such as her wasn't involved in the affairs of the main council. Noticing her inquisitive stare she turned to address them once again “We have dragons and they are more than sufficient to weed this Crabfeeder out of his cave. My son Laenor shall be joining Prince Daemon, leading from above though your support at both sea and ground is much appreciated. We shall soon be rid of this menace together” she spoke with pride. “We've hosted a feast tonight as an inauguration of our joint partnership. Please rest, explore and enjoy your stay before we meet again ” she concluded.

The beaches of Driftmark were a true wonder, she thought as she strolled along unbothered by the sand coating her stockings. They were unlike Claw Isle, with white sand stretching endlessly surrounded by pristine blue waters, secluded and picturesque. “Could wealth be used to acquire such beauty? Perhaps Lord Corlys’ expeditions had played a part in shaping the sea before her too” she considered enjoying her solitude. Her path soon led her to a hut, nestled away surrounded by a bed of grass, small enough to be overlooked, making her walk towards it, observing its peculiar vantage point overlooking the sea. As she passed through the rickety gate, she heard shuffling inside before coming across a man leaning against one of the posts. His eyes lit up as she came into view, trailing over her, before a smirk etched itself onto his face.

“Well Hello” he drawled lazily.

“Apologies my lord I didn't know someone was here” she replied hastily.

“Do you often walk into other's properties at will, my lady?” he inquired mockingly.

“I considered it abandoned” she flushed. “I was merely curious”

“Hmm” he said, appraising her “It is not safe to be wandering these waters alone, considering the threat that looms ahead”

“But I am not alone” she quipped back.

He chuckled as he made his way towards her.

“And what a sharp tongue you've got there. It would be a shame if that were the only weapon at your disposal”

“I don't think it wise for you to want to find out” she replied, standing her ground.

His smirk widened as he brushed past her, leaning down to whisper into the shell of her ear “Welcome to Driftmark my lady, your claws do you justice.”

Evening couldn't arrive fast enough. Her encounter with the man at the beach left her more shaken once she came to realize who he was. Bartimos spoke of the surprising absence of Prince Daemon from their war council, baffled as he dressed in haste. She merely shook her head in response, finding the lord or rather the prince she'd met, to be all the more intriguing. Dinner proved to be a lavish affair with an assortment of opulence. Dishes of roasted duck glazed with honey adorned the plates before them, along with sardines and roasted tomatoes coated with fennel and saffron. There were freshly picked cherries and apricots, apple and cinnamon pies and a heap of lemon cakes being passed around the hall, along with overflowing cups of Dornish red mocking the enemies they were to face. She sat next to known faces, taking comfort in familiarity amidst the novelty she'd found herself in, while Lady Crabb delighted in the feast before her, munching away wholly unbothered by her sullenness. Her husband was in better spirits after the toasts that had been made to their victory, conversing heartily with Lord Staunton as she looked about inquisitively.

Prince Daemon sat at the head of the table flanking Lord Corlys to the left looking disinterested as he sipped his wine, pretending to listen in to the conversation at hand. She smiled to herself at the glazed look in his eyes, present for a fleeting moment before wandering again to places far beyond her reach. One of the Velaryon lords next to Princess Rhaenys, Ser Vaemond, if she remembered correctly, said something which swiftly brought him back.

“Perhaps you'd like to find out for yourself Ser Vaemond, Caraxes would be all the more willing” he said smirking “A toast then” he spoke standing up as the chatter died down.“To our allies and their good health, may you weather the battle ahead well” he said as a few cheered in response. “And to our enemies, near and beyond, narrow be their deaths, narrow be their beds” he said looking around “To our appetite for war” he spoke at last, winking at him as the man below him gazed back in defiance “and more” he finished seemingly staring right at her. She squirmed with apprehension as the crowd erupted in cheers “Hear, hear” they chanted “To the Rogue Prince Daemon” , they continued, banging their cups on the spread in front.

She wondered if her husband realized what he partook in, as the celebrations continued, forever wanting for fame and glory begotten through company, only for her to be the unwitting recipient of the eye of the Dragon.

As the evening drew close and Bartimos drunkenly staggered through the halls supported by his peers, she fought back a scoff. He bade her goodnight, eager to continue his quest for companionship while she politely shut the door waiting to leave their chambers as soon as she felt the coast was clear. Drawing her robe close she snuck out to explore, excited at her newfound freedom, delighting in the sliver of opportunity she'd happened upon. High Tide was quiet as the waves lapped the shore in the distance, a peaceful contrast to the jeers of the evening. A few servants scurried about bowing as they passed by her without question, perhaps to tend to the many guests that the castle currently housed. It was relatively easy to navigate with its shiny walls of pale stone mixed with wood twisting to form an interesting maze. She passed by low chandeliers, banisters with carvings of sea creatures, walls of teal painted with murals of voyages at sea, retinues of Velaryon soldiers and seafarers shouting orders and rowing through storms, intricately decorating the hallways. Statues of oceanic figures greeted her, lining each corridor connecting together till she came upon one, wooden and endless, larger than the rest, with a small alcove at the end. Darting ahead at once to claim it for her own, she stopped as she heard an unfamiliar sound. A soft moan greeted her at the end followed by a series of grunts and the all too familiar sound of skin slapping against each other making her peer in. A maid lay bent over the edge, her dress ruched up to her waist as he pounded into her roughly muffling her sighs with his hand, her own clinging desperately to the railing ahead. “Quiet, I do not wish to hear you wench” he remarked, brutally thrusting into her as she whined. She watched, shocked and unable to move as he finished within her with a grunt, his silver hair falling over her shoulders, before turning around to face the door abruptly.

“It will never fail to amuse me how you find yourself in situations that do not concern you” her husband's voice rang through her ears as she ran out, only to find herself at the beach again. “You must learn your place wife and it isn't in every nook and corner of the castle” he'd remarked once, after her incessant interjections in an argument with his lord father. “The fool had some sense to what he'd said”, she thought, cursing herself loudly as she caught her breath. Admitting defeat had never felt so shameful, she sulked running her hands through her hair before turning around to find a voice addressing her.

“Couldn't sleep?”

“New waters, princess. I'm not used to change” she replied sheepishly.

“Hmm. You should have told Vanya, she's in charge of the guests. She'd have brewed you a nice tea, it works wonders for light sleepers”

“I presume you speak from experience” she ventured walking towards her.

“There is much to be thought of” she replied back as she welcomed her presence.

“You wish to join the war, contrary to what you spoke of at the council”

“What kind of dragon rider abandons their people in need. What am I, if not a warrior for a just cause”

“A ruler who knows when to step back” she countered.

“Those are flattering words, empty as they might be”

“I disagree, princess. Your children are young and you are needed here. Battles may not always be fought at sea or up in the air, the biggest ones often lie closer to home” she spoke, still unnerved by the night.

“You are wiser than your years Lady Celtigar”

“Many have called me rather impudent”

“And they always shall, anything otherwise would be to admit defeat” she scoffed.

“May I extend my impudence further tonight” she asked looking up at her in question “I think I know why you wish to join. Forgive my boldness but I feel a familiar reluctance in staying behind, with what has happened amidst those seas before”

She smiled ruefully in response. “Have you had the chance to see a dragon yet, Lady Belinda? Caraxes rests a few feet away from where we stand, slumbering in peace while his rider feasts for the night” she remarked causing her to turn abruptly “I fear I will not have peace till I fly to battle with him this once, a wish that was left unfulfilled years ago and a regret I hold with me still”

She looked around in unease before replying “It is not for me to advise you princess as I've often led myself off a cliff with my own words.”

“Do not fret he doesn't harm at will” she laughed sensing her distress. “Merely judges who he considers his prey”

“Like his rider” she wished to scream, smiling back at her instead.

“Sleep well my lady, I might require your impudence on the morrow after all,” she said before walking back to the Castle behind.

“There is no rest for the wicked” her mother used to say, scolding her when she acted out of impulse. “Your flights of fancy shall be the death of me” she'd scream as she chastised her for her conduct. The “morning after” drone on, just as painful to her as the throbbing in her husband's head, as he sat grumbling at breakfast.

“Seems like you had an interesting night” he remarked sullenly.

“What?”

“Princess Rhaenys was all praise for you at dawn.”

“Oh, it was nothing” she said as she tried to mask her raging thoughts, her mind wandering to a different head of silver that had caught her attention.

“Do not be so coy Belinda, it is good to see you putting yourself out there. Let them know what we stand for as a house” he said, sipping his tea.

“Your pride will be your downfall one day, husband, but I'm sure glad for it today” she thought, carefully evading the topic at hand.

The days that followed passed in a blur with her trying to make herself as scarce as possible and she'd found blending in with the decor a fine way of going about it. She'd attend meetings whenever she was called upon dressed in teals and blues, dine with her husband and their contemporaries adorned with silver, gossip idly with the ladies at sessions in sapphire, butting in more often, hoping to be included more but most of all she vowed never to stray out of company whenever she could, for she knew he was around, waiting to strike when she least expected it.

“There you are little trespasser” he'd caught her by the arm swinging her to the side on one such occasion, her burnished gold gown taunting her absurdity.

“Unhand me now or I'll scream”

“I doubt you would little mouse, I think you seem to take an undue amount of pleasure in depravities as such”

“I don't know what you mean”

“Don't play coy now, it doesn't suit you as much as you'd like it to” he retorted sharply

“I didn't mean to barge in on you, it was an accident”

“Hmm as are most instances you find yourself in, yes?”

“I am telling the truth,” she said, squirming in his grasp.

“Now what would your husband think, hmm, were he to find out, compromising yourself not once but twice” he whispered, twisting her towards him, pulling her flush against his chest.

“I have done nothing of that sort, you seem to mistake mischance for willingness”

“I am under no illusion my lady, but anyone in your current predicament would beg to differ” he said smirking as a few curious lords passed by them in the hallways whispering to themselves as they looked away abruptly.

“Walk with me and let me put you out of your misery” he replied, tugging her along, as he took her arm into the crook of his elbow, swiftly guiding them towards the other end of the hall.

“I want nothing more to do with you, my prince. Please leave me alone”

“Now where's the fun in that” he laughed humorlessly “Do not take me for a fool lady Celtigar, I’d prefer it if you'd play along”

She huffed as she followed him out onto familiar territory, the sandy soil welcoming her once again.

“You are married, what would your lady wife think if she found out” she said trying to dissuade him.

“I think she'll be all the more happier for my absence, something you and I might have in common” he retorted, eyes twinkling as he gazed down at her.

“I don't know what you mean” she said which earned her a click of his tongue in response.

“Bartimos is nothing but kind. He's faithful and just, I could ask for nothing more from a husband” she said after a pause.

“Perhaps you'd prefer a dog instead if that is what pleases you in a man” he huffed “Or was that your reason to linger last night?” She blushed furiously in response as he laughed at her silence.

“You presume too much”

“I only say what I think. Life is too short to hide behind false pleasantries.”

“One needs to be amiable enough to get by, not everyone has the veil of protection of a dragon rider”

“It is not Caraxes that speaks to you now, as much as you'd like, I am more myself when I say as I do.”

“And what exactly do you wish to achieve out of this” she asked, stopping as she stood before him.

“To unwind that needle you've stuck up yourself” he said “Your husband's brought you here all dolled up to decorate his empty promises, espousing might and support when all he has to his name is a house of Crabs with too few men. I do not need the likes of foolhardy lords who'll run the moment they come to face real danger.”

“What do you want then, my prince? We've come here with goodwill and whatever we have to offer” she said plainly

“I think you have far more to offer.”

“If you've come to ask me to bed you, I'd prefer it if you said so plainly”

“If I wanted to bed you I wouldn't need to ask and I don't mean taking you as an unwilling partner, as pretty as you might be”, he replied, turning a lock of her hair in his hands “You'd come to me willingly”

“Then it seems we are at an impasse” she replied. “I cannot give you what you want nor do you possess anything I seek”

“How do you know?”

“What”

“How do you know what it is that you wish to seek?” he asked “How does someone so sheltered know what they want if they haven't seen what life has to offer”

“What is it that you think I want then”

“A taste of the unknown,” he replied, looking towards the sea.

She stared after him for a moment choosing to continue beside him, the silence between them feeling akin to punishment as they made their way ahead. He stopped soon to pick up a tiny crab running across the shore.

“That is your husband,” he said, examining the creature.

“Come now, that is cruel”

He laughed before pointing towards it again “Look at its legs and tell me what you see”

“It has threads attached to it”

“They're not threads. They're remnants of flowers that thrive deep below

the seas, of colors so bright they'd put a Tyroshi head to shame” he said turning it around for her to look “Flowers like these cling to the crab, beautifying it, helping it forgae the sea weeding out prey, a perfect companion won't you say” he continued watching her swallow “Yet when this little soldier feels the need to return ashore he discards his companion to the solitude of the sea” he finished before tossing the crab aside.

“I am not a flower” she said lifting her head up in defiance “To be discarded so easily”

A broad grin lit up his face as he nodded at her continuing down his path.

Preparations for the war soon ramped up, prolonging her discomfort. She felt stifled putting up smiles, talking incessantly to fill the silence lest she be drawn back in, while he lingered on. She began seeing him more frequently, at most meals of the day. A few of the men had taken to dining with their ladies, mostly those of importance to the warfront and with Bartimos finally being offered a place at the table it was hard to refuse his advancement. She began sitting with them stiff as a board, his gaze burning into her across the spread before them, ashamed to be the cause of her husband's newfound happiness. Watching him drink and talk with pride oblivious to the danger that lay ahead of them both prompted her to consider the nagging thought in her head, perhaps she needed to be his sea flower at last.

He was relentless in his pursuit all the while, smirking with his head tilted to the side whenever she caught him looking, observing her with a heavy gaze waiting to strike again.

It came to a head finally, one sunny morning. She didn't know what possessed her to go to the council room, perhaps it was to seek out Bartimos, as a warning or with counsel itself, but she had opened those great oak doors only to find him inside. He sat alone at the head, with one foot propped up on the map before him, eyes looking out the window, disinterested and lost.

“Are you here to apologize again?” he asked, raising his eyebrow in question.

“I was looking for my husband. Since he's not here I shall leave you to it”

“Ever the dutiful wife, byka embar rūklon”

“Don't call me that”

“Hmm” he chuckled. “Given that he's occupied at the moment, what can I do for you, my lady?” he said standing up.

“Must we keep coming back to it” she replied back, exasperated.

“It is you who makes things difficult”

“Hardly. I've told you what I do not want, I think that should make things much easier for us both”

“You may speak all you want but it's the things left unsaid that matter the most” he continued, before they were interrupted by a servant. She turned to look at her in shock as she greeted him, striding forwards to fill his cup to the brim, privy to all their secrets. He grinned at her expression as he held up a hand

“Leave it and tidy up those scrolls like I taught you” he remarked dismissing her as she wordlessly turned her back to them.

“Now this must be a familiar sight to you” he chuckled, addressing her.

“Your cupbearer” she asked, switching to High Valyrian delighting in his pleased expression.

“Yes it is quite convenient. She knows when I'm full”

“How ingenious” she remarked dispassionately.

“Come on, it's fun”

“To see her each morn, when you're discussing matters of importance and know how you'll be having her at dusk? Was this the unknown you spoke ok?” she spat

“Stand up, let me show you something” he remarked suddenly as he led her to the window.

“To anyone who walks in now, I'm showing you how the sky melts into the sea, explaining to you the foreign territory we'll soon find ourselves in, ” he said, moving close to her.

“What concerns us, is how I've ordered her to tidy up everything. All the scrolls and there are a hundred of them, before she thinks of lifting her head up again” he whispered as she heaved at his proximity, her back flush against his chest.

“We could do whatever we want and she wouldn't move an inch” he hummed against her ear pulling her close. “No one would know, for the reward that awaits her at dusk”

“Obedience for pleasure” she sighed as he tilted her head up gazing into her eyes.

“Precisely” he grinned, grabbing her neck without warning.

“What will you choose, embar rūklon?” he said brushing his nose violently against hers. She bit his lip in response, delighted with his painfully grunt as she tasted him, metallic and raw, of blood and smoke.

“I think that suffices as an answer ” she responded breathlessly, crashing her lips against his.

As she walked out the door later, she noticed the neatly arranged scrolls in the corner with seven cups lined in order, ready for each member of the council to use. The dragon behind her grinned greedily, having found yet another conquest to his name.

Daemon Targaryen was more beast than man, she'd come to learn over the days that followed. As the time to leave finally drew close and tempers ran hot at council meetings, his thirst for flesh increased, seeking her out in shadowed corridors, grasping and rutting into her savagely. She'd be showered with equal affection later on masking the bruises marking her skin. Jewellery of pearl and rubies adorned her pulse points, bitten and sore from their heady encounters as she strutted around with unfaltering poise delighting in her newfound routine. She had come to enjoy their little game, often finding ways to excuse herself to explore another hideaway the castle had to offer, leaving it separately with the lingering smell of their sweat and arousal. Despite the intensity of their meetings it was the aftermath she had come to cherish the most, when he'd kiss the crown of her head after pulling her hair, or play with her wrists as he drew her close. The little trinkets that she hid among her dresses, made her heart beat faster whenever she sat looking out at sea smiling to herself as her company chatted on.

“I got you something”

“What is this?” she laughed “A bird of paper?”

“There is a technique they use in Yi-Ti, where they make creatures out of paper, style them as they like '' he said “This is a crane shown to me by a merchant in passing, as a token for the hefty purchase I made. They say if you make a thousand of these the Gods grant you anything you desire.”

“I thought you didn't believe in the Gods,” she mocked.

“I do not but there isn't a man more foolish than the one who doesn't appreciate beauty, in all forms” he smirked.

“There is a catch though” he said, pulling it away before she had the chance to grab it.

“There always is, isn't it”

“If and when you make a thousand of these you'll be granted but a single wish. I would choose one carefully embar rūklon”

She closed her eyes as she thought smiling to herself.

“Not now”

“Ah but what if I wish for something this very moment, what's to stop me”

“You play by my rules alone byka gevie, never forget” he said pulling her towards him delighting in her laughter.

As much as he'd claimed ownership of the people in his service Daemon had glossed over a singular fact common to all women alike, they preferred nothing more than a fresh rumor served cold. From the smallfolk to the ladies in their fine towers, each held a kinship to one another when it came to gossip, spreading it far and wide. Rumors of her entanglement with the dragon prince spread like wildfire, with fresh tongues wagging in her direction, holding her accountable with their judgy eyes and insolent mouths. His little cupbearer was the one responsible, she thought as she found herself cornered, how fitting it was to be felled by the keeper of his secrets.

The most disappointing though, was the reaction of the lady she'd lent her sympathy to days ago.

“I'd like to give you a piece of advice Lady Celtigar” she remarked one morning

“You are young and have many years ahead of you, do not waste it in pursuit of fleeting pleasure. I know what it's like to feel constrained and alone. When my husband went off on his travels across the world it was I who held fort here, braving it all, ensuring our legacy wouldn't be tarnished by even a wisp of bitterness. You will soon be put in a similar position and you won't weather it should you choose to continue as you are now” she said plainly. “A woman's reputation makes or breaks her family and her house. It is the most important tool you have in your arsenal and you must learn to weild it well.”

“I can take care of myself Princess. My impudence shall weather me through whatever storm awaits me yet, besides you have a dragon to protect you, I doubt it was your diplomacy that carried your legacy forwards”

“And now you've found yours” she remarked with distaste. “Heed my warning my lady, I have known my cousin long enough to realize he always does as he wants. He will not change no matter how much you wish for it to be so” she said as she left her in thought.

The storm at her horizon approached faster than she could have anticipated striking the pearls around her neck first, with an innocuous question posed at dinner.

“That is such a beautiful necklace my lady wherever did you get it”

“Oh it is one of the many treasures of our house” she countered “A little trinket, one of many the Celtigars boast. We have chests of ancestral rubies, Myrish carpets, Volantene glass, jeweled cups and more that await you at Claw Isle should you choose to visit” she remarked satisfied with turning the conversation at hand. If only it had been so easy.

“Where did you get that Belinda?” Bartimos asked cornering her when they were alone

“The necklace? It is one of the many you've given me”

“Do you take me for a fool” he scoffed

“I don't know what you mean, if not then it must belong to one of the chests back home”

“I know every gift that I've ever given you Belinda, your honeyed words fool no one” he said looking at her with contempt.

“Do you think I don't know what's been happening behind my back? Do you think I'm such a fool to not recognise how you've been whoring yourself while I have been away and for what” he asked, ripping them from her neck “Pretty trinkets that I'd buy you had you bothered to ask? Are you so starved for attention to be acting as such. Do you know what they call you? '' he screamed “They call you the Harlot of Driftmark! The Whore of High Tide who's been strutting around the Castle with her cheap keepsakes. Why must you act as such? Have I not given you enough?”

“You're one to talk, have you even bothered looking at me this once. Ever since we've stepped foot on this dreaded island you've done nothing but jest and play at your war never bothering to inquire how I've felt. Ever since I've married you, you've never made the effort. Do you think I want your wealth and all the treasures that you hoard with your claws, boasting at every opportune moment? It makes you look like the fool that you are Bartimos” she screamed “If you'd just asked me once, if you'd just listened to what I had to say, to what I've felt this past year, things would have been-”

“If I had listened to you then you wouldn't have fucked him, is that it then?”

“Why don't you love me?” she cried “Why is it always honor and virtue and claiming and parading myself as yours when I am anything but. I've never been yours because you haven't let me. Why don't you want me as I am”

“Neither does he. He doesn't see you as anything more than a vessel for his pleasure, ripe for taking and you are a fool for thinking otherwise, just as I am for thinking you'd ever want me” he said looking at her in pain.

“I shall leave on the morrow. You shall be escorted back shortly with Lady Crabb. Say your goodbyes as I have none for you”

The noose felt tight around her neck as she wiped the wetness staining her cheeks, the tears she'd wished for had come at last.

It was dawn when she ventured out again, awoken by the shrill roar of Caraxes taking flight. She rushed to his chambers barefoot with a robe covering her, only to find them empty. A wail left her throat as she collapsed near his bed clutching the sheets, sitting still on the floor gazing at his walls, lost and alone till the sun rose and her tears dried up. The time to lament was over. The mirror at the entrance caught her attention, alerting her to her haggard appearance. She looked at the bags under her eyes, puffy and glistening as she walked towards her reflection, noticing a cushion nestled beneath. On it lay a single paper crane greeting her solemnly.

“It is time for you to do your duty, embar rūklon just as it is time for mine. To the unknown you've been searching for”, she read through hazy eyes running her fingers over the scrawled words on its wings.

The journey back to Claw Isle proved to be an arduous one. She felt their eyes on her as she boarded the ship, when she stood on deck and when she took her meals in silence on board, their judgment never leaving her. She wished for nothing more than to be sequestered in her home once again, laughing to herself at the irony of it all. She had often heard the tale of the weary seafarer glad to return home after his travels, delighting in its familiarity and Claw Isle had never felt more welcoming than it did now. As she stepped onto the beach leading up to the Island, she felt a sense of relief wash over her. She spent the next few days in silent contemplation, barring visitors and well wishers alike. She went on long walks, worked on her embroidery, read whatever she could find in the castle library and kept herself as occupied as she could, though the thing about an idle mind was that it soon merited thought. The news of the warfront floating around crept up to her soon. The advancement of the Velaryon forces on Bloodstone with Prince Daemon and little Lord Laenor's assistance spread rapidly delighting noble and commoner alike, for a war involving dragons had been fought after so long and the gossip accompanying it proved even meatier. She heard it in passing as her maids whispered to themselves, mentions of herself with Prince Daemon graced the hallways as well as chuckles at Bartimos and his misfortune of being stuck with her. It was the twentieth day of the fifth moon when she decided to confront it all, bringing out and dismantling the object of her ire. The crane was easy to take apart, soggy from its travels at sea and as the wet parchment of paper stared at her she remembered why it was given to her in the first place. Over the next few moons she learnt how to make one, it was easy enough with no shortage of paper for anything to be considered amiss. Every night before she went to bed she crafted a little bird with her hands, closing her eyes and stuffing it away come morning. The war carried on as did her own effort at home.

Almost three years later when she had diligently made her last one she sat staring at it in silence, crying to herself as she closed her eyes, thinking her effort had perhaps all been in vain.

News of the war reached her a fortnight later, Prince Daemon had killed Craghas Drahar, slicing him from head to torso, styling his weapon into a crown, calling himself the “King of the narrow sea”. It had been a happy occasion for all of Crackclaw Point uplifting their spirits enough for her to invite the neighboring ladies to tea. They had all won and a celebration was to be hosted in their honor. As the castle was tidied up and the ornaments brought out, she noticed a giant red crab placed near the entrance welcoming the guests she was to host, on its back writhing and beautiful were a myriad of familiar coloured threads.

“What is that” she asked the Castellan as he caught her looking.

“Those are sea flowers my lady, nestled upon the great crab’s back. It is a beautiful relationship they share in harmony, uplifting one another. The flower beautifies the crab as well as helping it forage while being offered protection inturn. No other creature of the sea dare touch it's beauty as long as the crab stands vigil”

A looming sense of dread washed over her as she excused herself from the hall, rushing to find the old crane. As she sifted through her drawers desperate to find it among the thousand others she'd made she felt herself grow weary and tired, frustrated as she collapsed to the floor. Each crane she'd found was henceforth burned in the hearth before their bed, meticulously chucked into the fire as she watched them be swallowed by the flames. Her wish had finally been fulfilled.

Bartimos returned nearly four moons later to a full house and a happier wife. His apprehension at seeing her was soon eclipsed by her contagious demeanor. She apologized to him, with Rhaenys' advice fresh in her mind, wishing to make amends to which he acquiesced soon after a moon of coaxing. The rumors still reached them from time to time yet she had him, to weather them together. Prince Daemon's lady wife soon passed away. A hunting accident they'd called it followed by the scandal of the Jade tiara from Yi-Ti, his hefty purchase she'd assumed finally coming to fruition. The deflowering of his niece in the capital brothel followed soon, as her belly swelled and by the time he'd returned to wreak havoc on the royal wedding she had laughed at it all mirthlessly.

When he took a new bride five moons later in the form of Lady Laena Velaryon she took it well with a stiff lip, mind drawn to the Red Queen herself and as her confinement approached a few moons later and she lay in bed she found the old crane at last. Scrawled illegibly on one of its wings was part of the phrase her hazy eyes had missed moons ago

“To the unknown you've been searching for and for the one you've helped me find.”

She crumpled the weary crane in her lap clawing at it as her husband droned on recounting the accounts of the castle for the moon. The Valyrians, she thought, had always managed to entrench everyone in their affairs.

Taglist: @witheredoffherwitch @arcielee @chompchompluke @barbieaemond

[ethereal27cereal]

Cocoa and Cream - Eddie Munson x Plus Size Reader

summary: When a big snowstorm hits town, you and your neighbor Eddie find yourselves shoveling nearly 3 feet of snow off your shared driveway. And the only way to warm up is with a good cup of hot cocoa. Based on the prompt: “You don’t put marshmallows in your hot chocolate? Are you a serial killer or something?” from the lovely @thefreakandthehair​ Spicy Six Holiday Fic Challenge.

warnings: not really any, this is just fluff with some pining and Eddie thinking he is a creep.

genre: neighbors to lovers, fluff

word count: 4K

author’s note: Hiya friends, I hope you all like this one, it was a super cute prompt and I loved writing it. Thank you to @kissmecaiti​ for all of your amazing support and for your adorable last line suggestion. Any comments and feedback are always so appreciated 💕 page divider from @firefly-graphics​

Peeking out of the frosted window, you breathe a sigh to see the snow is finally starting to taper off, if only for a brief moment. Long enough to get out and shovel. Again. You have cleared the front porch and walkway twice, wanting to stay on top of the relentless piles of snow. If you don’t start to make a dent in shoveling away the snow on the driveway, it is going to be at least a week before you’re able to get your car out safely. Living alone has its perks, but being the one who has to shovel in what is shaping up to be the biggest snowstorm of the year is definitely not one of them.

You peer out of the curtains again, debating if you are just going to clear the steadily creeping drifts from the front porch or truly try to tackle the driveway. It is a shared driveway, connecting your single car garage and condo to the mirrored copy of your mysteriously handsome neighbor’s condo and garage. He moved in six months ago and introduced himself as Eddie, immediately captivating you with his soft curls and crooked grin, but you’d not gotten much more out of him since then. He’d given a little wave when you both managed to pull into the drive at the same time, a mumbled apology when returning a package of yours that had accidentally been delivered to him, and baffled ‘thank you’ when you showed up on his doorstep with a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies to show your thanks. Each time he’d always been friendly, albeit a bit shy.

Despite the shyness, Eddie has really been the ideal neighbor. Devastatingly good looking, well that’s not really an important part of the good neighbor criteria, but it certainly helps. He doesn’t have raucous parties every weekend and doesn’t block the driveway all the time like the previous occupant had. The only thing you can possibly find fault with is the late night guitar practice, but that somehow only adds to his intrigue rather than truly being an annoyance.

Once during the sweltering heat of the summer, you'd summoned up the nerve to ask him about his guitar playing, catching him unaware as he absently strummed his acoustic on his front porch. Nerves bubbled in your belly when his smoldering brown eyes flickered over you warily, staring at each other for a moment too long in the glaring sunshine. Bitten chapped lips offered a swift apology for keeping you up late with his playing, and without so much as another glance, he had disappeared into the darkness of his condo, muttering something about the damn heat before you had a chance to stop him.

All the brief exchanges only leave you wanting to know more about him, maybe spend some time with him and perhaps it could lead to something more than just friendly neighbors. But that also might just be wishful thinking and too many romance novels about meet cutes and falling in love with the boy next door. Besides, you’re pretty certain he does not share the same sentiment, seeing as he is barely able to speak to you for more than a minute without finding an excuse to flee. Maybe you just aren’t his type, thick and curvy isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, or maybe he’s just a recluse, but either way, it is boiling down to the facts that his momentary neighborly niceties will most likely not be extending to shoveling nearly three feet of snow off your side of the driveway.

Running out of time with the snow steadily starting to pick back up again, you abandon your fleeting fantasies, deciding it’s now or never and begin to bundle up in your snow clothes. Wrapped up so tightly that only your eyes peek out, you brace yourself against the chill of the wind and step out onto the front porch, tendrils of frost flicking into your lungs and stealing your breath away. The world sounds muffled and softened under its thick blanket of white, the snow falling to the ground lazily with an inaudible sigh, faint crunching under your foot as you trudge out into the winter wonderland.

Armed with your shovel, you clear a path on the porch and walkway within minutes and move on to the larger task at hand. As you round the corner to the front of the house, you spot him, a flickering figure of darkness almost engulfed by stark white. He’s dressed entirely too sparingly for the chill in the air, what looks like alternating layers of denim and leather jackets covering his top half and a pair of very wet looking black jeans clinging to his sturdy thighs. A black beanie pushes down his wild curls, tendrils clinging to his pink cheeks as he looks up from his work when he hears you slowly approaching. After a gloved wave and a smile to your neighbor, Eddie, you start on clearing the heaps of snow that surround your garage door.

Eddie had hoped he would finish shoveling the whole driveway before you came out, but he’s been at it for what feels like hours and is only just now starting to see a dent. The cold is starting to set into his knees, his toes already numb despite the layers of wool socks he had put on before shoving his feet into the thrifted snow boots that are one size too large. His eyes automatically drift over to stare at you, smiling to see you look a whole lot warmer than he feels. You’re bundled up in a puffy purple jacket, shining eyes just barely visible between your thick knit scarf and black beanie that is almost identical to his except for the pom pom bouncing on top. Eddie’s chest tightens, and though he’d like to blame it on the cold, he’s more than certain it’s because he can’t breathe when you’re around.

He knows shoveling all the snow away isn’t the grandest of gestures, but he hopes in a least a little way it does something to make you happy. Just enough of a kindness so he can see your smile before getting too nervous and retreating to the safety of his home before he’s once again plagued by never ending thoughts of you. He’s tried his hardest to be polite and neighborly, fearing if he is anything more it would be verging on creepy, and he’s not looking to start up the same rumors or stereotypes that had been his ceaseless burden to carry in Hawkins.

New town, fresh start where no one knew the name Eddie Munson or cared about his past. He told himself he would be best off if he simply kept to himself, easier not to scare off people when there isn’t anyone close enough to scare off. And at first it was easy. He went to work and came home, collapsing on the couch in front of the TV, chugging a few beers before passing out. Then he’d repeat it all over again, day after day. Until you.

With a persistent smile and an intoxicatingly sweet sundress, you had cornered him by the mailboxes about a month after he moved in. You’d repeated his name when he introduced himself, and the sound of his own stupid name lilting off your tongue should not have made him weak in the knees, but it did. And it still does. Everyday since, he finds himself hoping for more and more little moments with you, feeling butterflies from even the briefest of glances or a fleeting smile you offer his way. He’s ashamed at how many summer nights he lingered out on the front porch to see if you would wander up after your evening walk and talk to him about his guitar playing again, or about anything really. He endlessly agonizes over any reasonable excuse to talk to you before always deciding against it, not wanting to come off as too pushy or forward.

Eddie is sure that if you knew any of this you would cringe. Who wants to live next door to the freak?, he reminds himself over and over while trying not to cling to the crumbs of your neighborly kindnesses. But the truth is, he’s got it bad. Eddie has a crush on you, the girl next door, and he’d shovel six feet of snow if it meant that you didn’t have to.

Snow begins to blur his vision as the thoughts fade and he quickly realizes the blizzard is coming on in full force again. The path he’s cleared in the snow is rapidly being covered again, though not nearly as deep as it was to start, and he groans at the thought of having more snow to shovel before this storm is finished. Defeated, he looks from where he is standing at the end of the driveway to where you’re struggling against the mountainous drifts, looking even more thoroughly defeated than he feels.. You fling a pile of snow off the end of your shovel, only to have the wind whip most of it back into your face. The wind rages again, nearly taking Eddie off his feet and he decides the window of clear shoveling weather has abruptly come to an end.

“You should get back inside, it’s getting pretty bad. I will finish shoveling when the storm dies down again,” Eddie shouts over to you, his voice straining to project into the chill air.

Your pom pom hat bobbles as you turn your head to look at him. You can make out the faint movement of his lips, but the wind swallows all sounds.

“What?” you holler back, setting your shovel down and bracing against another gust. He repeats himself, but you still can’t catch a single word. Frustrated by the distance and your inability to hear, you begin to trudge through the knee deep snow to get to him. Puffy snow pants and unsteady footing do you no favors, and after trekking only a few steps closer, you find yourself face down in a heap of snow. Freezing cold and full of embarrassment.

In a moment of heroic panic, Eddie leaps over snow drifts and crouches by your side, concern streaked across his frigid features. Frosted wetness seeps into the thin denim of his jeans and chills him to the bone, but his only thoughts are on you and if you are alright.

“Shit are you okay?” he worries and pulls you out of the drift by your arms. Your face is dusted with snow, delicate snowflakes clinging to your eyelashes as you flutter them open to look at him. Eddie’s breath catches in his throat, unable to blame it on the frigid air as you cling to his arms and try to steady yourself to a standing position. Nothing seems to be injured, but Eddie scans you up and down just to be sure.

“Ugh, yeah. I mean, my pride is not, but I’m not hurt or anything. Just cold,” you reply with a shiver, leaning into him to savor the feeling of him supporting your weight for just a moment longer and expecting him to let go. But he doesn’t. His arm wraps around your waist, sheltering you against the wind as he guides you towards your front door.  

“Let’s get you inside. This wind is brutal, and you look absolutely freezing.” His breath blows warm against your cheek when he whispers directly into your ear, not letting the storm consume his words again.

Once safely inside, Eddie releases his hold on you suddenly, cold wind sucking the air from your lungs and the strain of shoveling leaving you weaker in the knees than expected and you unceremoniously plop down on the floor.

“Woah! Are you sure you’re okay there, Y/N?” Eddie drops to his knees next to you, his ungloved hand wavering in a dangerous debate of whether or not to touch you again. You stare at him blankly, only able to dwell on how this is the first time you think he’s ever said your name. It sounds sweet, like sticky warm honey dripping from his lips and warming you from the inside out despite the nagging chill that has taken up residence under your skin.

“Y/N?” Eddie repeats again, even more dulcet in its refrain, but the perplexed look of concern on his face forces your reply.

“Yes, sorry, I’m fine. Just more exhausted than I thought I was,” you respond, aiming to give a reassuring smile that you’re pretty sure comes out as a grimace. In an effort to get more comfortable and regulate your body temperature, you begin shedding layers, chucking off your hat and gloves then unzipping your jacket and tossing it beside you. Letting out a huff you get to your feet, Eddie’s hand offering gentle support at your elbow so you don’t slip and fall on the wet floor.

Without much thought for your company, you kick off your snow boots and begin to wiggle out of your snow pants. It’s an action that leaves Eddie flustered and turning away with pink cheeks and his heart beating wildly, trying not to stare at the swell of your thighs and hips when you’re fully revealed in a pair of skin hugging long johns and a turtleneck that is leaving far too little up to his imagination.

“I, uhh, well, if you’re alright I should probably go,” Eddie coughs and looks down at his feet.

“No, no, please stay. I can make some hot chocolate. As a thank you. For shoveling and for rescuing me from the snow,” you laugh, a contagiously joyful sound and Eddie cannot say no.

— -

After offering Eddie an old pair of sweatpants to change into since his jeans are soaked, he settles in at the tiny kitchen table, looking stiff and uncomfortably shy while you busy yourself at the stove with heating the chocolate and sugar mixture. You try to fill the silence with small talk, asking about his job at the local auto shop and sharing little things here and there about your interests. He opens up slowly, offering up some tidbits of information, and becoming increasingly animated when he talks about his love of metal music and reading fantasy novels. He confesses that he is relatively new in town, so he doesn’t really do much in his free time besides read and play guitar.

Eddie clams up when you ask about where he moved here from, a tight lipped response telling you it’s best to drop it and move on to something else, but he circles back.

“Sorry, I’m being such a dick. You’re just trying to be nice and ask questions, and I’m being an asshole. I’m sorry,” Eddie apologizes, tugging a strand of frizzy curls in front of his lips as he speaks.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I’m just glad you’re saying more than one or two words to me. I feel like I’ve been the annoying neighbor getting in your business all the time,” you reply with an unsure smile. He regards you softly for a moment, eyebrows knitting together in thought as he weighs his words.

“You’ve not been annoying at all. I’m just not used to the friendly neighbor kind of thing, I guess. I’m just kind of used to people pretending I don’t exist. But it’s nice. You’re nice. I mean, yeah,” Eddie rambles, ending with a huff and a wince at his own pitiful words. You don’t reply, but offer a thoughtful hmm as you carefully pour the milk into the pan of boiling chocolate and begin to stir.

“Well I think you’re nice too. Hot chocolate is almost ready. I can also whip up some whipped cream for the top if you’d like,” you suggest, trying not to bubble over at the simplest of compliments that he thinks you’re nice.  

“You don’t have to do that if it’s too much trouble. I’m good with just marshmallows,” Eddie waves his hand with his words, thinking nothing of his request.

“Oh, um, sorry, I don’t have any marshmallows. I don’t ever put them in my hot chocolate,” you apologize and can tell immediately that your response has absolutely dumbfounded Eddie, his face contorting with confusion as he stares blankly at you.  

“What? You don’t put marshmallows in your hot chocolate?”

“Well, I don’t really like them,” you shrug absently, turning to stir the warming hot chocolate and then back to face him again.

“Hold on a minute, back up. You don’t like marshmallows and you don’t put them in your hot chocolate…are you a serial killer or something?” Eddie jests with a laugh, and you shrug again. “Who doesn’t like marshmallows? They are delicious. And then you pop them on some hot chocolate and you have the best winter time drink there is.” With each word, Eddie is becoming more animated, sitting up in his chair and speaking with his hands. A smile creeping across his face as he tries to prove this ever so important point to you.

“They’re just too sweet. And they ruin perfectly good hot chocolate by forming that weird gelatinous goop layer on top when they don’t melt all the way. Whipped cream is the only appropriate topping for hot chocolate,” you retort with a smirk. You swing open the fridge and grab out the carton of heavy whipping cream, wiggling it in his direction before going on. “And homemade whipped cream is by far the superior hot chocolate topping compared to any Kraft Jet-Puffed bullshit.”

“I did not know that I was living right next door to such a staunch marshmallow hater. I can’t believe I was going to shovel your whole side of the driveway. I’m not even sure if I can accept this hot chocolate as a token of your thanks anymore,” he shakes his head with another hearty laugh and acts as if he’s going to stand up to leave before locking eyes with you and offering a devilish grin.

“Hey now, if this isn’t the best hot chocolate you’ve ever had, then I will shovel both sides of the driveway,” you promise with an earnest look that makes his heart swell.

“That seems like an unfair deal to make seeing as there is no possible way you can win without marshmallows,” Eddie remarks playfully.

“Fine, if tasting my extra special cream isn’t enough for you, then I will just have to find some other way to thank you properly.” You wink and giggle, delighting in the look of shock on his boyish features before plugging in the hand mixer and settling the metal beaters into the bowl of heavy cream, sugar, and vanilla.

Eddie’s cheeks flush red, fading softly to rosy pink as he clears his throat, inaudible over the hum of the mixer. He isn’t sure if you intended or meant anything by the salacious sounding offer, but he’d be lying if thoughts of you in that way hadn’t crossed his mind at least once or twice, or more, over the last six months. And the thought that you might want him in a similar way sends his brain reeling. His eyes are fixed to the soft sway and wiggle of your ample hips as you continue mixing, staring far longer than just a friendly neighbor should. Eddie is certain he is dangerously close to losing any last ounce of cool he has when you turn off the mixer and dip your finger into the cream, your plump lips closing around the digit and sucking it clean with a wet popping sound.

He lets out a ragged breath and chooses to focus on the frayed holes forming in the faded fabric of the borrowed sweatpants, poking his finger against his thigh to concentrate on something other than you. Eddie wills himself to calm the fuck down, she’s just being kind and neighborly. Just because she has a perfect ass and the most kissable lips you’ve ever seen, doesn’t mean you are getting any. Don’t be creepy. Eddie chides to himself, hoping that more deep breaths will steady his fluttering heart and stifle the throbbing feeling in the pit of his stomach that is threatening to spread south.

He can't, however, tune out the sweetly satisfied hum you make after adding another dash of vanilla and tasting the whipped cream again, the sound reverberating in his ears like a song he never wants to forget.  

“Perfect!” You declare proudly, releasing your finger from your lips and turning to smile at Eddie. “Do you like a lot or a little whipped cream?”

“Ermm, I will let you decide,” he responds quietly, unable to meet your eyes as if you might be able to see all the thoughts racing through his head.

“A lot it is then,” you plop a generous dollop of cream on top of the steaming chocolatey drink and bring it over to him with a smile. He thanks you shyly and takes a timid first sip, trying to avoid getting the whipped cream up his nose.

“Okay, I’m just going to say that you are objectively wrong about marshmallows, but holy shit, this is the best hot chocolate I have ever had,” Eddie admits, finally meeting your eyes as you sit down at the small table and pull your chair close to his, knees bumping his under the table.

“And the whipped cream?”

“It’s delicious. I will agree that homemade whipped cream is a top tier hot chocolate topping, and yours is really fucking good,” his voice drops lower as he emphasizes each word, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine.

“Better than marshmallows?” you tease and take a sip of your own hot chocolate, letting the hot drink warm your belly.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself there, sweetheart,” Eddie chuckles and takes another drink. He is less careful this time and pulls the mug away from his face to reveal his lips and nose covered in whipped cream. He looks at you playfully, knowing full well that he looks like a whipped cream covered fool, but he can’t be bothered to care at the moment.

“You’ve got a little…,” you giggle and tap your nose at him. Eddie’s chocolate colored eyes are filled with a devious mirth as he dips his finger into his whipped cream and boops a dollop of it onto your nose with a laugh.

“Now we match.”

“Not quite.” You smile and stare at his soft creamy lips, stomach doing flips as you lean forward, placing a tentative hand on his shaking knee. Your lips press into his in fluttering delicate whipped creamed kiss, stealing the breath from your lungs and all the thoughts from your head. He freezes for a moment, heart beating faster as your gentle kiss slowly warms him head to toe until he feels like he’s on fire. Your lips are sweet and soft against his, cocoa and cream lingering on his tongue as he loses himself deeper in the kiss. You pull away slowly, peppering whispered kisses against his lips and finally on his nose to get up the last of the whipped cream.

Eddie’s eyes meet yours, dripping caramel and full of reverent wonder before he kisses away the remnants of whipped cream from your face.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” Eddie admits with a nervous laugh, his hands weaving together with yours as you scoot your chair closer to his.

“I have too. And I told you I would find a way to fully thank you if my whipped cream didn’t fully live up to your insane marshmallow expectations.” A giggle ripples from your chest as the air finally returns to your lungs, not realizing you’d been holding your breath until now. Eddie laughs along with you, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

“So, uh, if that’s the thank you had in mind for just for shoveling the driveway, what do I get if I mow the whole lawn?” he wiggles his eyebrows playfully, testing his luck because surely this must all be some frost bitten fantasy he has conjured up in his head. But, sure enough, you squeeze his hand and grin back at him, a teasing fire in your eyes that even the heaviest of blizzards can’t put out.

“Guess you’ll have to stay till spring and find out.”

Tags of some people who might be interested: @boomhauer @wtf-lindsay @a-time-for-wolvess @b-irock @beep-beep-sherlock @wroteclassicaly @littledemondani @chickpeadumpsterfire @aftermidnightwriting @seidenbros