#a quilt of nonsense

[hallucinateonpaperspines]

Hi!! I just found out you had a tumblr and I saw your rdr2/tfp (of timelines and trolleys) crossover idea and I was just wondering if you’d be willing to expand on that? 👀 (unless you don’t want to give away any spoilers lol)

My rdr2 and tfp hyperfixations have made resurgence lately and the idea of that crossover sounds so cool!!! (I’m rereading your fic atm, it’s so fucking good I need it injected directly into my bloodstream)

WELCOME!!!! and thank you so much for the compliment （＾ω＾）

I've actually been working on the rdr crossover here and there, but I'll definitely start giving it more attention. (I feel I've moved to the acceptance stage of grief, but writing fanfic about it might implicate bargaining... eh I'll get some laughs out of it regardless)

I do want to make a mini-fic that's more put together than my PJO au, but has more content than some of my drops in Worlds of A Disgruntled OC so instead of rambling, how about I give you a sneak peak of what I'm working on?

°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Ashlyn Moore was an incredibly unlucky person. It wasn’t a matter of opinion, it was an objective fact of the universe. As cut and dry as gravity’s rules or the laws of energy conservation. A dependable and evidentially supported fact of life, and much like Murphy’s Law, it could be invoked at any moment.

Such as right now.

Here, lying here, with a rock pressed against her spine and dirt rubbing against her skin, Ashlyn Moore was faced with such evidence that would seal her title as the unluckiest person in the world. Because how many people crossed dimensions not once, but twice within a year?

Wrinkling her nose, the girl didn’t bother to open her eyes. She was content to simply lay there, in the dirt, ignorant to the specifics of whatever world she’d wandered into for now. Not much different from what Ashlyn had been doing with the voices, and that had been working out great so far.

As much as she would love to reveal in unknowing bliss, dimensional travel had a very distinct feeling. An odd dreamlike haze, as if reconnecting a mind to a body that had been nothing but split atoms and a handful of migrating molecules moments before was an arduous task. A process not quite complete, even after eyes opened and sight returned. Ashlyn only had a rough guess of the moment her world had first blended with fiction, the transition too vague to truly define, but the sensation of other was too distinct not to connect to. And now, she had relived it once more. That was one aspect of reality, of whatever had happened when energon met that stupid rock, that she could not ignore.

The world had shifted, yet again, and she had no clue how to fix any of it.

Honestly, it was rather predictable, wasn’t it? Didn’t take a lot of brain power to figure out once those few details became clear and the story came into focus like the tapes of an old film.

Miko had tried to sneak out and watch a bot fight. Jack following to make sure the girl didn’t get herself killed was typical. Ashlyn, herself, had been bored out of her mind and resorting to watching mind-numbing videos of a survival expert cooking some Michelin-level salmon with tin foil and alternating to a shirtless man digging out an underground house with a piece of bamboo. Feeling faintly inspired, she’d been prepared to give the latter a try in the base’s walls. The fact that mud and roots were replaced by stone and steel would only add to the challenge. When Jack had catapulted after Miko, narrowly missing in his half-hearted tackle attempt, it was like a dinner bell rang.

Entertainment! Come get your free, entertainment! No broken nails or mining is required!

A pity, she’d been fascinated by the chance to create a hiding place in the walls for the whole 5 minutes the idea had spawned in her mind.

But this would work too.

Sharing a look with Raf, the pair had slyly put the computer down, still playing a collection of YouTube’s greatest survival tips, and followed their fellow homo sapiens. She may have been the oldest of the quartet, but Ashlyn was not their keeper. She was going to enjoy this little impromptu field trip while she could. 

Hidden on a cliff-side, the group held front-row seats to the mini-battle that unfolded beneath them. Ashlyn hadn’t recognized the scene or location, so she’d been too engrossed in the drama to take note when Miko had once again started to move. She’d only realized that anything had changed when Raf had asked what the younger girl was doing near a cave.

Ashlyn hadn’t stopped Miko from interacting with the carvings. Not from the photos or touching the chipped pieces. The design was familiar, even as it seemed jarringly wrong, but Ashlyn couldn’t quite identify what episode those odd drawings were part of. But if they were here, they must be important. 

Who was she to stand in the way of the plot?

Her hesitation was a mistake.

Bad luck had decided to strike again, and the last thing Ashlyn remembered seeing was a sudden blast and hearing the sudden screams of her companions.

In the glare of the light, Ashlyn could have sworn that the carvings had started to dance.

Thus, the latest evidence proving the Laws of Ashlyn had been added to the cosmic tally. She was unamused, but at least she was no longer bored. Ashlyn almost wished she was bored.

Yet, one must count their blessings. The air was warm and pleasant, breathable which was good. The rock that was pressing between the vertebra of her spine had not cut into it, and the tickling sensation of grass and dirt proved that she still had sensation in her limbs.

Somehow she was the unluckiest person in the world, but she still had enough luck in her to walk away with that evidence. Perhaps, in another life, she might’ve been a cat. A black cat with nine lives and the audacity that can only come from not having a single one stolen.

She smiled at the thought of sauntering down fence tops and lounging on tree branches. It must feel something like this, shadows dancing over her face as leaves danced in a merry breeze. Warm sunbeams caressed her form as she would laze away the day, blissful and unconcerned about the troubles of reality.

If only she was actually a cat.

Maybe if she opened her eyes she’d find that such a dream had been fulfilled.

Considering her luck, probably not. But now, with everything but her soul in question, she couldn’t prove that she wasn’t one. Schrodinger’s Cat was her preferred state of being usually, just for the simplicity of it. Why tack on a feline version for her sanity’s sake? 

She is a cat. She is not a cat. She is Ashlyn, and that’s more than enough.

With that line of thought, the girl’s mind drifted off into a strange breed of nonsense that could not help but taper off into a dream. Ashlyn Moore took a nap, not knowing where she was but quite sure that she was alone and that such problems could wait for whenever she deemed it prudent to leave this uncomfortable spot.

Had she not been so nonchalant, some things would have carried on very differently. For instance, a man, full-bearded and with a sour attitude came across the sleeping girl. Spotting a young woman, dressed oddly and splayed out beneath a tree, Bill Williamson shouldered his gun and stared.

What exactly was he supposed to do here?

Bill had seen many strange things in his life, from his stint in the army to his career as an outlaw, life had a way of tossing weird shit all over the place.

Stepping closer to the stranger, dry earth crunching beneath his boot and fingers itching to grab the carbine repeater once more, the man gave a start as some wild beast bellowed in the distance.

It took a moment to realize it was just the lady snoring… so she was alive then. Sleeping like a baby grizzly, complete with a little snot bubble that rose and fell with every “mehu.”  

Stepping back, Bill sighed and rubbed his head. Just their luck that first thing after getting off that goddamn mountain a stranger appears right outside of camp. The women hadn’t even unpacked yet, Mr fucking Morgan’s wagon with Hosea and Charles hadn’t even arrived yet! Dutch hadn’t even done one of his speeches yet and already something unexpected had happened. Lone woman or not, the situation was suspicious.

The gang couldn’t risk gaining any attention or trouble, not until they had the money to split properly. Or until Dutch come up with another plan. 

Looking back at the woman, Williamson took in her odd clothes. Jeans a few sizes too small, boots that didn’t look like anything he’d ever seen and a jacket that might’ve dyed leather. Oddly dressed, yes, but, other than a branch sticking out of wild hair, she was well-groomed and appeared healthy from a quick glance. Not some poor waif, likely had a family that would notice if she went missing.

Drat.

Dutch also wouldn’t appreciate killing a random woman just because she decided to nap near the camp. Besides, there was no confirmation that she’d seen anything. No confirmation that anyone knew where she was or would suspect them if she went missing. Valentine was a small town. People talked in small towns. People were suspicious.

The Van Der Linde Gang did not need help to be seen as suspicious.

Poking her with his boot, Bill watched as that lady scowled and swatted it. He thought he could hear her muttering about something.

Leaning closer, Bill hovered over the girl in hopes of overhearing. Maybe pick up some clues on this latest shit that had been tossed his way.

He failed to account for the girl waking up.

Ashlyn Moore, opening her eyes to a strange, kinda familiar, ruffian hovering over her acted on pure, engrande reflex.

Always aim for the eyes, her mother had told her.

Her hand moved quickly, fingers winding in the coarse foul-smelling beard, and pulled. Her other hand met the surprised and teetering man’s face.

A solid crack sounded off as blood spurted. The man screamed, shrill and high as he fell back on his heels, hands too occupied with his broken nose to reach for his gun.

What luck. What wondrous, good-for-nothing, terrible luck.

“Y-you! YOU BITCH!”

Amid the whining, Ashlyn could hear trees rustling and other voices sounding off in the distance. Had she not just woken from a nap, the girl might’ve taken her wake-er hostage with that pretty rifle. Or maybe she would have demanded to speak to his boss, manager, or mother about his horrid manners. Alas, still sleep-addled, Ashlyn felt the incoming forces of retribution and bolted out of the forest, into an open clearing, and ran out into the plains without bothering to think about where she was going.

Bill for his part, was left with explaining to Javier what the hell happened when the Mexican bounded over pistol drawn and just quick enough to see a shadow darting away. As Mrs. Grimshaw set his nose and smacked his head, Javier wouldn’t stop laughing about Bill losing a fistfight to a deer.

Uncle said it must have been a branch.

Bill remained quiet, sulking as Mr. Morgan drove his wagon in and listened to the tale.

“Nah. Must’ve been a twig.”

Bill really wished he had shot that girl.

[bitchfitch]

i just got done with my third chiro appointment, and like. I've noticed a significant improvement in terms of how much pain I'm in but I'm also noticing i can't like. stay sitting up. I can sit, which isn't always the case, but the muscles in my back are so loosey goosey/ not responding/ spasming that I keep curling forward until my head is almost pressed to the bed in front of me while I'm sitting cross legged. Don't know what that's about but it's affecting productivity something awful.

[wickedhawtwexler]

is there anything more powerful than listening to solsbury hill by peter gabriel when you're a little wine drunk

[nonsense-aesthetics]

Paint by Numbers

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Alfie noticing that guys who are way younger than him (like Michael? John?) having a thing for reader, who is close to age to these young gentlemen but has only eyes for ol' man Alfie? Thoughts?

Near Deadly Sin

Alfie Solomons x F!Reader; fluff

AN: IM BAAAAACCCCKKK hello my loves it’s taking me forever to write again but I’m glad to be back. I miss you all and hope you all are doing well!!! MUAH - Mo

No. No this acidic flame burning between his ribs is not jealousy.

Not at all.

The embers stoked in his chest. The flames licking up his neck and around his ears. These are normal… manly… sensible reactions.

Alfie had been invited for ‘drinks’ with the Shelbys. He had refused adamantly, and was only coerced upon your promise to accompany him and to never. leave. his. sight. As if you would ever be far from him or out of his thunderous gaze. But as he is sitting across from Thomas and Arthur and Polly, he is regretting ever bringing you near this nonsense. This den of wolves and snakes. The murmurs of Thomas faded like the crackle of a radio as he focused in on John Shelby’s lustful gaze over you. With every sweep of his young and unbridled eyes and suck of his teeth, Alfie became more and more enraged. Not that you noticed. You didn’t notice John’s roving eyes or the quickening pulse of your husband next to you. You were content sipping the tea Polly served, making quiet conversation with Ada in the corner, holding a babbling Karl.

Alfie knew there was supposed to be a deal or something tonight. Or maybe an update on a job. Or something. It didn’t matter. Fuck the business. Fuck the Shelbys. Fuck John Shelby. Fuck it all. Standing quickly, pushing through the screaming pain of his back, Alfie grunts, “Darling get your coat. We’re done here.”

Your head spun, “Meyn Likht?”

“Up. Coat. Now. Cyril needs us.”

You press your lips in a firm line. Holding back your tongue from lashing at him for his impromptu exit. You knew what he actually meant. Thinking of Cyril was his code for indicating murderous intent that needed to be snuffed out immediately. You watch Alfie as you slip on your coat, going to Thomas to whisper something just out of your reach. Had you heard him, you would have heard the volcanic timber of his voice promise, “You control that little brother of yours Tommy yeah? It’s against holy law to look at another man’s wife like he been doing. Will have to go back to Mosaic law if he don’t shape up.”

With heavy stomps he approaches John, who is trying yet failing to keep a stone expression. “You keep them eyes to yourself little boy. Or someone may just take ‘em from you.”

“Darling? Cyril needs to be let out and will not wait for you!”

With a firm pat on the cheek Alfie turned away, gripping your waist firmly, hand as hot as a brand on the skin under your dress.

-

It’s late now, Alfie is fuming under the crisp sheets and thick quilts layered living on the soft bed. He’s pretending to read. Putting on his glasses and taking them back off again to stare at the ceiling. You emerge from the bathroom, face flush from the hot water, and hair pulled away from your bare shoulders. Arms crossed across your chest, you sit on Alfie’s side of the bed, “You want to talk about it like a grown up now?”

He huffs and shifts lower into the bed, as if to hide from you. With a shrug you walk back to your side, shuffling your sock feet across. You crawl back in bed, back to Alfie to let him fume. It was better than fighting with him to get him to share his feelings.

“He was looking at you.”

“Well Karl is a baby darling.”

“Not Karl! John fucking Shelby! Little bastard was undressing you with his eyes! And you said nothing!”

Ah… there it was.

You let yourself sit up to look at your husband’s face. Folded up into himself, glasses precariously balanced on his nose, cheeks ruddy from rage. Jealousy was his greatest sin and vice. Bigger than rage. Bigger than his love of rum. He was an only child and as such he grew into a man who did not like to share. Not even your image. You curled up next to him, like a cat preening for attention. “Meyn Likht… I didn’t even see him. You shouldn’t be jealous of a figure of vapor.”

“What you don’t notice the… the young men just staring at you? Gapped mouths like dead fish?”

“Those children?” You hum, gently kissing his scruffy jaw and temple.

“Those… men closer in age… to you.”

With that you crawl into his lap, looping your arms around his broad shoulders. “Darling… what could I do with those men? I’d break them.”

“Break them?” He chuckles, gripping you tighter.

“They’re too soft. Too pretty. No. I like my men… rougher… more sturdy… someone who can stand strong and not worry about their pretty face getting dirty. I like my old man.”

“Do you now?”

“Love him even. Deliriously in love with him. Couldn’t live without him.”

Before you could take another breath, he was on you, kissing all over your face, tickling you with his rough beard and mustache. “Good Lord woman you make me feel 20 again.”

[pjsfvs]

sex postion hcs - enha legal line

paring : enhypen (legal line) x afab!reader

warnings/tags : dom/sub, submission, dominance, masochism, sadism, exhibitionism, voyeurism, vaginal fingering, rough sex, unprotected sex, deep penetration, soft sex, breeding, heavy kissing, teasing, wall sex, hair pulling, if i missed anything let me know!

summary : The Legal Line's favorite sex position headcanons

a/n : don't leave hate comments for me to see. if you don't like it just block me and leave.

HEESEUNG :

Standing / Against Wall

Heeseung is a nuisance with no shame. He craves for how you gasp and whine when forced up against the wall.

If you’re in public, hidden in an alleyway perhaps, he’ll tease and mock you for being too loud until your biting your lip to keep your sweet noises secret.

If you choose to be loud then he’ll hold his hand over your lips to muffle your moaning. He doesn’t actually want to get caught, but he’ll use it as an excuse to slip his fingers into your mouth and toy with your tongue. He’ll twitch deliciously inside you if you suck them greedily.

“He-heeseung ..” you panted heavily, your legs shook with anticipation and arousal at the situation he’d got you in. Your chest was pressed up against the rough wall of the alley you’d both ducked down, your lovers' hands gripped at your hips as he pulled you back against his thick cock. The lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the air leaving nothing to the imagination.

His lips hovered at your neck, delicately brushing over your tender skin. You could feel the devilish smile he wore before he parted his mouth and lay firm kisses and nibbling bites. “Ah!” You cried out, shivers shooting through your spine.

You continued to tremble and gasp under his assaulting lips, heat blooming under the bites. He drew his tongue over the marks, before he pressed soft kisses up your neck until his lips rested at your ear.

“Shh..” he hushed, his breath tickling your reddened ear. “The sidewalk is barely a few steps away.” He reminded you with a mocking grin. You could still hear the chatter of Seoul citizens going about their evening. The thrill had you shaking, your needy cunt dripping at the idea of being caught in such an indecent position.

“Unless you want us to be caught?” He purposefully nipped at your ear lobe causing you to gasp audibly, your hips jerking back against his. He moaned unabashed as you tightened around him, his breath hot against your skin. His hold on you tightened, his nails digging into your skin almost painfully.

“Aaa.. n-no-!” You moaned, your desperate voice betraying your words. You were certain he was be able feel the heat from your cheeks. His deep groans only turned you on more and his pace never faltered, his cock reaching deep inside your eager cunt.

“Mm.. then you’re going have to try and be more quiet.” He chuckled, his voice deep and husky, laced in heavy arousal. With unrelenting purpose he thrust into your seeping cunt with long deep strokes, each one drawing out your gasping breath.

You quivered at the feeling, your arms braced against the wall shaking, you wondered how you were even supposed to be quiet when he teased you so relentlessly.

JAY :

Face Down, Ass Up

Jay is a no-nonsense guy, so when you’re in the bedroom with your rather arrogant lover he’ll desire nothing more than for you to be on the bed presenting yourself to him.

He loves to be in control, will thread his fingers into your hair and press your face down against the bed.

All the while his other hand roughly grips your hip, holding you in place as he takes you from behind.

You pressed your cheek against the soft bedding below you, your hands fisting the quilt as you kept your behind raised up. Completely naked and legs spread you shook with need; you could feel your slick leak out of your displayed cunt. A sharp inhale from you lover was all you heard before the bed creaked and dipped as Jay knelt on the edge.

A furious blush coated your cheeks, you chewed your lip in arousal and embarrassment. He needn’t say anything, you knew just how he wanted you. But today he seemed to desire a bit more from you. “Ah-!” You gasped as he gripped your hips in both hands, then dragged you down the bed until you were at the edge.

He made no noise as he stood again. You kept the same position as before, your head resting against the cover. His hands never left you they dipped from your hips, pinching and squeezing your behind, before eventually stopping at your twitching cunt.

“Always so ready for me.” He laughed mockingly, spreading your cunts lips with his fingers. He rubbed the area with unusual tenderness, watching as you trembled and leaked for deeper attention. He snorted a laugh, then wasted no time he plunged his lithe fingers inside you. Gasping moans were forced from your lips. Your cunt squelched and seeped with embarrassing lewdness as he sank his fingers in and out of you.

“Jay..” you whined, rocking your hips to meet his movements. He curled his fingers in response, stroking and toying your gummy walls. “Aaa.. please..” you moaned into the sheets. You spread your legs wider, trying to accommodate his thrusting fingers, which caused your position to lower.

His other hand trailed from your behind, smoothing over your hips and then tucking back under your body. He pressed the palm of his hand against your lower stomach, forcing you to keep your ass raised. Whimpering needly you raised your head and looked over your shoulder as best you could, his intense gaze pinned yours almost immediately.

“So disobedient today.” He scowled, moving his hand from your stomach to grasp your hair. He tugged harshly, pulling your head back. “Mngh-!” You cried out weakly at the tugging pain. “Keep your head down.” He ordered, then forced your head back down against the sheets.

“Haa..” you whined, feeling warm frustrated tears prick the corner of your eyes. His fingers never stopped their relentless thrusting into your core, you felt a fiery ache building up inside you. “Please..” you begged, voice slightly muffled.

“You’ll get what you want when I give it to you, doll.” He clicked his tongue and scowled at your disruptive movements. You curled your feet over the edge of the bed and released a hot shaky breath. You knew it was going be a long night of him edging you into utter submission.

JAKE :

Missionary

Jake is a romantic man, and he loves nothing more than to hold you in his arms whilst your making love.

He definitely whispers sweet nothings into your ear and presses soft kisses and delicate bites against your neck while you cling to him desperately.

He’ll eat up every little moan and whine that slips pass your lips with a searing kiss.

Chests pressed firmly together, Jake had you pinned to the bed, your slick cunt stuffed full of his cock. You threw your arms around his shoulders and met his lips in a deep kiss.

Your tongues fought for dominance even though you never win the match. He groaned each time your lips parted, and you whined softly at the separation.

“Jakey..” you panted and raised your legs, wrapping them loosely around the back of his thighs. This granted him easier access to your aching core, his thick cock reaching deep inside you, pulling delighted gasps from your lips.

“Ah-!” You cried out, throwing your head against the plush pillows. His hips smacked against yours, the erotic sound of skin slapping against skin filling the bedroom.

“y/n..” he groaned deeply, one of his hands held your hip whilst the other threaded into your hair allowing him to tilt your head and pull your lips back to his. He greedily swallowed each moan and blissful gasp that escaped you with a primal eagerness.

Your mind soon felt hazy as your breath was truly being stolen from your lungs and the deep ache building in your core was almost ready to burst, eventually he pulled back to allow you to breath.

His thrusts became languid as he committed the sight of you below him to memory. Your eyes hazy with pleasure, lips swollen and parted tantalizingly as you panted below him, trying to catch your breath.

You quivered under him, his teasingly slow pace baiting a needy whine from your throat for him. He groaned hotly at the sound, unable to withhold himself as he dove back in for another all-consuming kiss. Then he finally increased his pace again as he thrust into you quickly, your bodies pressed flush together.

SUNGHOON :

Riding

Since I find Sunghoon to be rather aloof you’ll have to be the one to initiate intimacy most of the time. He’s unsure, so prefers positions where you’re leading.

Particularly likes to watch you as you whine and moan on top of him. Your hands pressed against his firm chest, or maybe entwined with his, as you cutely bounce on his cock.

Will grasp your hips with bruising strength when he’s close, he starts to lose himself to the pleasure and can be unintentionally a little rough. Not that you mind of course~

You moan softly as you sink down onto Sunghoon’s cock. He lay flat on his back on your shared bed, a bright blush coating his cheeks and his lips parted in a silent gasp. You grasp his hands, entwining your fingers together, as you take him entirely.

“Haa..” he moans softly at the feeling, his hands gripping yours back. His flustered blush sinks deeper, travelling down his neck. He looks up at you, his gaze full of heat, as you straddle his hips.

“Mm..” you sigh breathily, tilting your head back slightly as you relish in the full feeling, his cock filling your tight cunt snugly. “Hoon..” you blush as you meet his hot gaze, causing him glance away nervously.

“Sorry..” he mutters sheepishly, as if he shouldn’t have been staring, and drew his bottom lip into his mouth.

“Ah.. no.. Sunghoon..” you trip over your words, your blush brightening at his cuteness. “I want you to keep your gaze on me..” you wet your lips, then pursed them in a small pout.

“O-ok..” He mumbled, his eyes flicking back to you, his cheeks still alight. You gave his hands a comforting squeeze as you rose to you knees, stopping when only the tip of his cock remained inside you.

“Aah..” you both moaned together as you sunk back down and repeated your movements. Drawing him out and then pushing back down, slowly increasing the rhythm each time.

“y/n..” he gasped in pleasure as you rode him, your cunt squeezing him pleasurably and your breasts bouncing at each thrust. He clutched your hands back and thrust up to meet your movements, soon gaining more confidence.

SUNOO :

Prone Bone

(For those of you that don’t know this position, it’s basically missionary but the person underneath faces the bed and not their partner.)

Sunoo is usually portrayed as a cute guy with a ton of aegyo and If I'm being honest. I feel like he's the worst when it comes to sex. He would definitely like any position it's just, he just loves how the position gives him easy access to your slick cunt, he can just thrust his hips down against yours and bury himself deep inside you. I’ve got a massive HC that Sunoo is a breeder, and this is a good position for that.

Sunoo loves to feel your body against his whilst your having sex, he won’t admit it but having you restrained under his weight is a huge turn on.

He’ll cage your head between his arms, his lips pressed against your neck as he marks you as his own because even though everyone knows you’re a couple no one will dare to try and steal you away if you walk around with his love bites decorating your neck. He gets jealous quite easily, so your neck will never be bare.

“O-oh!” you gasped as Sunoo pulled out of you suddenly and flipped you over with ease, your naked chest pushed down against the bed. Your cheek rest on the soft pillow as you tried to watch him from the corner of your hazy, half-lidded eyes.

“S-Sunoo..” you whine his name as he lines the tip of his cock back up with your sloppy cunt. You had both been at it for hours already and you’d lost count of the number of times he’d made you come undone. Your neck stung pleasantly from the multiple hickeys and bite marks he’d decorated you with.

You weren’t even sure how many times he’d cum inside you this evening, you’d long since lost count of that too. Your body ached from all the different positions he’d pushed, bent and held you in. All while telling you how much he wanted to breed you, that he wouldn’t be satisfied until you’d both cum in each new position.

“Haa..” you whined weakly as he sunk back into you. Each time he pulled back his seed leaks passed your messy cunt’s lips, your stomach felt bloated from how much he’d filled you up already. “Sunoo..” you couldn’t even string a sentence together; your mind was numb with pleasure.

“This morning..” He groaned hotly and pressed his body down against your back, pinning you to the sheets. His arms were braced either side of the pillow as he made sure he wasn’t crushing you under his weight. “I didn’t want to leave the bed, I wanted to abandon all my duties..” He smack his hips down against yours, immediately setting a deepb, slow pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day.. thinking about all the different ways I would breed you..” he moaned unashamedly, his lips pressed up against your ear and he spilled his dirty thoughts to you.

“Ah-!” You cried out as he gave one harsh, deep thrust that buried the tip of his cock against your cervix. “Sunoo..” you gasped, pressing your forehead against the pillow as he stopped thrusting and remained buried inside you.

“Mmn.. more.. ” You whimpered while wriggling your hips against his to try encourage him to move again.

“Fuck.. y/n..” he groaned hotly, you're begging and moaning of his name had his cock pulsing for you. His hands fisted the bed sheets, his weight felt lighter on your back as he started fucking into you quicker.

“Sunoo..” you panted heavily; your bulging stomach was being pressed against the bed. “Haa..” you moaned softly and chewed your bottom lip; you wondered if it would just come gushing out when he was done.

JUNGWON :

Spooning

He’s got easy access to your neck, so get ready for plenty of kisses and love bites. Plus those tantalising lips can whisper sweet nothings into your ear as he slowly fucks between your thighs.

I’m rolling with the idea, get ready to try and be quiet as he teases you relentlessly in a room full of sleeping band mates~ you’ll have to bite your lip quite hard to hold back the moans he’ll tempt from your lips.

“W-Won’..” you whisper softly, your bottom lip drawn between your teeth, your eyes screwed shut. “We-.. we can’t..” your voice was barely audible as you try and keep your delicate moans from escaping passed your lips. You quiver in his gentle hold as he embraces you from behind, spooning you in your shared bunk in the room.

“We never get any time alone in the dorm..” he sighed softly, his warm breath tickling the back of your neck. His hands were tucked under your top, his smooth palms cupping your breasts as he rolled your perked nipples between his fingers. “And I'm sick of quickies..” his silvery voice sent heat flooding to your core, your entire face heating up.

“B-but..” you shudder as he trails one hand down your stomach, slipping into your trousers and into your panties. “Mmn-!” You chomp down on your lip to muffle your gasps as his fingers circle your opening.

“Shh, y/n..” he whispers into your ear, his teeth grazing the tender cartilage. He chuckled quietly as you whine, his fingers parting your folds and sinking into your dripping wet cunt. You continue to bite your lip, holding in your moans as he pumps and scissors his fingers in you, your hips following his lead.

You’d been craving him too and you really did have no private time in the dorm, or anywhere for that matter. Your drenched cunt gave away just how much you desired him. You bit your lip and decided the risk was more than worth it, all you wanted right now was your lovers cock stuffed inside you.

“Y-you..” you stammer quietly, his other hand still playing with your breast. He grins against your ear, biting it and causing you to jolt as it sends sparks down your body. “A-ah..” a weak moan escapes you as he continues to tease you all over.

“You’ll wake them up..” he warns you as he trails his lips down the side of your face, ignoring your lips and resting in your neck. He sucks your sensitive skin, drawing back only to return to the same spot and nip the area.

“Mmn!” You cry out, then freeze in place. A sleepy murmur from someone else in the room sets your heart racing. Your body shakes in Jungwon’s hold, yet he continues his advances as pulls his soaked fingers out of your cunt and pushes your panties down to your knees.

“W-Won’..” you whine his name, you couldn’t stand his teasing anymore. “M-more..” you whisper, shaking your hips back against his bulge. He inhales sharply, then releases a gentle laugh. While he tugs down his own boxers, freeing himself and lining his cock up with your seeping cunt from behind, he finally releases your breast and holds his hand in front of your mouth.

“Suck.” He whispered hotly and you do just that, taking his first two fingers into your mouth as he holds your face still. He sinks into you little by little then drags his hips back, only to thrusts back into you slowly again, drawing out each and every thrust into your aching cunt.

“Mmph..” you moan around his fingers. His free hand tucks around your body and returns to your cunt, easily finding your clit. Your orgasm was building too quickly, the coil in your stomach almost ready to burst. You knew he wouldn’t want to end this so quickly, so you were most certainly in for an incredibly long and torturous night at the hands of your teasing lover.

[lushrue]

thinking about helping your bear shifter husband prepare for winter hibernation (john price x reader)

“john, i’m home!” you call, toeing off your shoes in the doorway. your arms were full of paper bags from the grocery store. you never seemed to be prepared enough for your husband’s appetite before hibernation. somehow, it was always a shock to you when the cupboards came up empty more quickly than usual. it was your third trip to the grocery store in as many weeks, and you anticipated making a couple more before winter finally came.

you set the numerous bags down on the kitchen counter, unwinding the scarf around your neck once your hands were free. the chill of autumn had fully settled in the air, vibrant reds and yellows dotting the treeline of the neighborhood you lived in. it wasn’t cold enough for your winter jacket just yet, but a beanie and scarf kept you warm enough on your walk to the store and back. as you ran your fingers through your hair to set it right again, you stopped to listen. usually, you would have heard john typing away at the computer in his office or watching a football match on the television. instead, it was nearly silent, save for the sound of rustling fabric and frustrated snuffling coming from your bedroom.

you smiled knowingly. price was picky about how the bedroom had to be for his hibernation. he’d already hung the blackout curtains, which you thought made the room feel like a dungeon. he’d also started working on his stash of snacks and water for when he’d wake up enough to eat and drink. but the bed, that was what he spent the most time on. there were certain blankets he only pulled out during the winter, quilts and furs that had belonged to his family for generations. there had to be a certain amount of pillows, even though they would get knocked off when he inevitably tossed and turned. more than anything, though, he wanted your scent all over.

though you would occasionally go in and sleep with john during the winter, you couldn’t stay with him during his whole hibernation period. someone had to keep the lights on, make sure the house stayed clean, tend to the things that john normally did during the year. even when you couldn’t be there, he wanted to feel like you were. so it was little surprise when you walked into the bedroom to see your husband with his face shoved into a pillow.

you couldn’t hold back your laugh as you stood in the doorway. price’s ears twitched, head turning to catch sight of sweet little you watching him. his cheeks flushed and he chuckled with you, the sound deep and rolling like thunder. “caught red-handed, ‘m afraid,” he teased, tossing the pillow back on the bed. “didn’ hear you come in, lovie.” you smile, moving to his side and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “don’t know how you could’ve through all the pillow stuffing.” he swiped at you playfully as you giggled, a laugh of his own joining yours.

“jus’ tryin’ to find the right ones,” he said, fixing his rapt attention back on the bed. he’d already divided the pillows into two piles: ones that he wanted to keep, and the ones you’d be putting in the closet until spring. you reached up to pet his ears, watching the way he melted into your touch. your favorite part of fall was how clingy he got. always needed his hands on you, needed to have you within earshot. one of his large hands wound around your waist, rubbing over the plush curves of your body. he grumbled, pulling you in close to his chest and burying his head in the crook of your neck. “not gonna get much preparation done if ya keep touchin’ me like that, pet,” he said, the barest hint of a growl in his voice. it always sent a thrill through you when he let the bear come out.

“nonsense. i’m trying to help,” you quip back, pulling away from him and running your fingers down his chest. they continue south, over the soft layer of belly fat he always gained in the autumn, and down to his hip. he quirked an eyebrow, trying to anticipate your antics. “and how exactly is this helping?” he asked, unable to hide the way his breath was quickening with each stroke of your fingers. you smile and pull him towards the bed by his hip. “because,” you start, your voice raising into that breathy octave you know he loves. “we can make all these pillows smell like me.”

the growl that comes out of him as he throws you on the bed might just be your favorite sound in the world.

don't love how i ended this, will probably revisit it later

legit didn't mean to take a hiatus, grad school has been kicking my ass and i got married a few weeks ago so life has been a lot 😅

gonna start working on chapter 9 of frozen hearts and hopefully get that posted soon too!

[exa-reblogs]

Some identifiers for AI generated fashion images that I've noticed

So, recently and not unexpectedly, I've seen a major uptick in AI generated images showing up in my searches for fashion photos, specifically. I've seen people make posts like this for specific art styles, and for 2D art in general, but I wanted to share some observations I made regarding clothing, fashion, and runways. I've seen a lot of people getting fooled by these, but it seems like for every one person thinking it's real there's about three people informing them that it's AI, fortunately. I'll admit, a lot of them look somewhat believable at first, but once you look closer it becomes apparent that they're off somehow.

To clarify: this is about common inconsistencies I've personally noticed in AI fashion images, so that you can learn where to look for these and similar inconsistencies and avoid sharing AI content by accident.

There's this one "collection" specifically that seems to come up a lot (also, click on all these images in this post to see the details more clearly):

There's more images like this and yes, despite the "houseofai" watermark I still see people asking who the designer is, or saying that they genuinely thought it was real at first. First and foremost: these are all clearly meant to be from the same runway show, right? Then why does each image look like it was taken on a different runway? The lighting and coloring are different in each one, and the middle one has vague red stairs in the background while the other two look like just a plain light-colored runway. This is something you'll obviously only be able to notice in groups of images and not singular ones, but it's a pretty dead giveaway if you see it.

Secondly: AI generated images, as a whole, tend to have this specific kind of super dramatic lighting with very bright, white lights and soft grey shadows. I'm not very knowledgeable about photography, so I can't explain it exactly, but I know it when I see it (and if someone reading this can properly explain it , please do.)

Thirdly: AI generated fashion tends to attempt perfect symmetry, but always fails somehow.

As for the actual outfits: the best that I can describe it is that a lot of the shapes and patterns just don't look like intentional human choices.

What in the hell is that monogram on the upper right supposed to be? It's clearly mimicking a logo of some kind, but it's messy and indecipherable, not actual branding.

The heart motif is clearly the running theme here, but the hearts don't really make sense. Like the main one in two halves across the chest here: why does it have those two notches missing at the bottom that prevent it from coming to a point at the bottom like a heart is supposed to?

The bottom hem is way longer on the left than on the right.

The little shoulder hearts are like, bleeding into the shoulder seams; those lines in the hair look like they're supposed to be headbands, but they disappear at the part with the rest of the hair; the embroidery on the pants isn't in a clear or intentional pattern.

Again, compare the lighting on this one's neck with the lighting on the last one's neck, totally different.

Those pink things on the chest look like they're trying to be hearts, but they're so clearly not actually hearts. If your collection is heart themed, why aren't you using actual hearts?

The quilting effect is uneven and the individual lines don't follow through and finish in the places they should. Look at the upper right sleeve, where the diamonds are misshapen and the diagonal lines are clearly disconnected. On the lower right chest, the lines just disappear. This can't actually with quilted garments IRL because the top layer is literally stitched to the bottom one along those lines with material in between. It can't fuck up like that, especially not a designer garment that costs your monthly rent.

Smooth zipper. Zippers seem to be a common fuck up.

You can't read the text on the hearts. It's nonsense. Nonsense, unreadable text and fucked up hands are the absolutely surefire ways to identify AI art like this. Conveniently, there are no hands in these photos.

What are those embossed shapes on the sleeves? They're not identifiable as anything in particular.

That is not how zippers work.

I suppose that weird folding beneath the hearts is something technically physically possible. But it's much, much more likely that they would create smoother, less ugly seams with less excess fabric.

These generative AI programs don't actually comprehend what they're trying to depict. Thus, they make mistakes like these. Physical inconsistencies that are often totally impossible, but even the possible things are just... stupid choices that an actual designer isn't going to do. Yeah, sure, designs can be weird, asymmetrical, and imperfect on purpose. But it's way, way more likely that this is just an AI.

Experiment: look at these two images of retro-futuristic headpieces/eyewear and determine whether they're real or AI.

Right one is easy, mostly because of the wonky bitch in the back. But some other inconsistencies I specifically wanna note: if the blue goggles color the "model"'s skin, hair, helmet, and the background behind the lenses blue, why doesn't it do the same for the eyes? And also, I've noticed that a lot of these images have trouble properly rendering the corners of the mouth, which is a weird detail but one you won't be able to unsee once you know to look out for it. Yes, there's a dark line where actual human lips meet, often with some subtle divots at the corners, but in the image on the right, it's rendered as a harsh, gaping hole more like something sculpted out of plastic than actual flesh. On the note of imperfect symmetry again: the left lens isn't perfectly round. And finally, this is a really good example of that giveaway lighting I mentioned. I don't know how you would actually achieve that lighting IRL, but it's so, so common in AI images.

The left photo is an actual model in 1967 wearing pieces designed by Pierre Cardin, a designer that the right image is definitely trying to emulate. The model has a look on her face that isn't super duper expressive, but it's still far beyond any of the AI images I've seen. Every AI fashion image I've seen thus far has totally blank-faced, expressionless "models". They might pout slightly, but I haven't seen any with visible teeth. Something tells me the AI would render teeth the same way it renders fingers. The emblem on the hat is actually perfectly symmetrical, and the glasses are clearly asymmetrical as an intentional design choice, not like the shapes are supposed to be the same but got messed up somehow. And she has ten fingers total, five on each hand.

Two more:

These are both AI generated. I'm not gonna lie, i fell for the one on the left at first. The right is easy:

distorted faces

woman in back is being absorbed by the train(?) seat

those middle buttons on the jacket are totally useless

AI Lighting (TM)

But the "models" on the left look very, very convincing, and the lighting doesn't immediately register to me as AI lighting. The only really wonky thing on the faces is the mouth on the left "model". However, there's one dead giveaway: the headphone wires. Why are they different thicknesses? Why does the rightmost wire disappear into the jacket sleeve? Where the fuck does the leftmost wire even go? AI, I've noticed, struggles with thin lines, strings, and strands of things. Like with the quilted jacket above, you can often try and trace a single line, only to find that it drops off, distorts, or disappears. And sure enough, as soon as I noticed something was weird with those wires, I went to the Pinterest profile that posted it and found that they exclusively posted AI content. Speaking of the actual headphones, the leftmost ear cushion is sitting on an angle that doesn't make sense, and the one to the direct right of it is significantly thinner than the other three. Again, subtle failed symmetry.

This is by no means a comprehensive guide, and I encourage anyone seeing this to point out ways they've found to identify AI images like this. These are things I've just been on the lookout for lately. And when in doubt: conduct reverse image searches and try your best to identify solid sources for your images. AI images won't list designers, model names, photographers, stylists, makeup artists, etc., while actual runway and photoshoot images will, because there are human creatives behind them.

[redeemingvillains]

sweet disaster - draco malfoy

pairing: draco x f!reader

summary: you and draco are inseparable friends, but deeper feelings come to light when you're asked on a date with someone who is determined to take advantage of you.

words: 7.3k

warnings: reader is put under the influence unknowingly; unwanted advances and affection (nothing more than kissing).

You were snuggled into the edge of the largest couch in the Slytherin common room closest to the fireplace as it crackled. The warmth was welcome against the damp cold that lingered in the dungeons this time of year. You were covered in a quilted blanket reading against the soft light, but you found your attention wavering between the book in your lap and the boy next to you on the couch.

Draco Malfoy had been your closest friend for several years now. First year you had fallen into a fast and easy friendship, clicking right from the very start. You were like two halves of a whole, complimentary in ways other people didn’t quite understand. You could finish each other’s sentences, anticipate each other’s feelings, make each other laugh, even at the most nonsensical things that befuddled your other friends. You had a casual intimacy, your head resting on his shoulder, or wearing his jumpers when you were cold, him always adamant about having the seat next to you whether in class, in the Great Hall, or tonight in your respective spots on the couch.

In many ways your relationship intimidated those around you, who simply assumed that you were dating, though in reality you had never crossed that line. You didn’t even see Draco that way, truthfully… at first. But the more time that passed, and the older you had gotten, you found yourself more and more attracted to him. You were distracted, suddenly, by the way his grey eyes glinted like the cloudy night sky, the way his muscular frame filled out his suit jacket, the way he smelled, like leather and expensive cologne, and the warmth that radiated from him whenever you were pressed close together like you were right now. 

You’d lost count of the number of times you had nearly let slip how you felt, only to bite your tongue at the last minute, too afraid of rejection and of ruining the relationship you already had. But that didn’t stop you from daydreaming about twining your fingers into his or feeling his lips pressed softly against your own. You ran your fingers absentmindedly over your lips now, lost in that same thought as you stared at him when your daydream burst like a bubble as Pansy Parkinson sauntered into the common room, leaned over the couch and flung her arms around Draco.

“Pans” he acknowledged, his eyes never leaving his book as she pressed kisses to his cheek. The whole scene turned your stomach, disappointment, hurt and jealousy roiling in equal measures.

Their relationship was a new development over the last few weeks. He had never said anything to you about her, then all of a sudden she was following him around, hanging off of him, kissing him. You squeezed your eyes shut to keep them from welling up. You had been completely blindsided by their relationship and the pain in your heart felt like a fresh wound every day. What made her worth pursuing, but not you? What made her so much more attractive to him? Your mind raced with your own insecurities as you closed your book and stood to leave, unwilling and unable to sit and watch the two of them.

“You’re leaving?” Draco asked, surprised at your abrupt movements, at the lack of warmth he felt as you left his side.

“I’m going to get something to eat, good luck at practice” you said, forcing a smile on your face as you exited the common room as quickly as possible before your tears overflowed.

Draco’s eyes followed you the entire way out of the room. He was disappointed that you never wanted to hang out anymore. He missed you, but he couldn’t figure out how to tell you. Even when you were next to him, it felt like a chasm had opened up that he wasn’t able to cross. He was trying to work it out in his head as Pansy chattered in his ear… It couldn’t be Pansy, could it? He knew you weren’t her biggest fan, but did she really bother you that much? And if so, why hadn’t you said anything? It wasn’t like things were serious with Pansy. Truthfully, he didn’t even know why he had agreed to be with her in the first place. His head swirled as he stood up, pulling away from her.

“I’ve got to get to practice” he said dismissively amidst her whines of protest as he stormed out of the room.

You had absolutely no appetite, but you made your way to the Great Hall anyway, knowing most everyone would be eating dinner and hopeful your friends could help you take your mind off of things. You were nearly there when you heard someone shout your name. You turned to see Cormac McLaggen of all people waving and jogging over to you. You were in the same year and had a few classes together, but the rivalry between your houses and between him and Draco was no secret as competing captains of their quidditch teams.

“Cormac” you said cooly as he approached you.

“Y/N, you’re looking beautiful as ever” he cooed, ever the flirt. You rolled your eyes in response.

“What can I do for you?” you asked, eager to move this conversation along.

“You can go out with me tomorrow night” he said, point blank.

You couldn’t suppress the laughter that came out of your mouth. “And why would I ever do that?” you replied mockingly.

His cheeks blushed and he managed to look bashful for a moment, which caught you off guard.

“Because I fancy you. Have for a while, but I always thought you and Malfoy….” he trailed off. “Now that he’s with Pansy, I thought I’d have a shot. I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’d like to get to know you, if you’d give me a chance?”

You truly could not believe the words coming out of his mouth. You had always written him off as a flirt, well aware of the trail of girls he left in his wake, but he sounded so genuine, so sincere, and just the mention of Pansy’s name had your stomach churning again and your heart beating in your chest. If Draco didn’t see you that way, then why cling to something that was never going to happen? Not to mention a small part of you reveled at the idea of Draco hearing that you were going on a date with Cormac. You knew he’d be furious.

“Fine” you agreed.

“Yeah?” Cormac said, the surprise and joy written clear across his face.

“Sure” you shrugged, a smirk on your face.

Draco was deep in his own head, trying to work out how to make things right with you, while simultaneously trying to focus on his plan for practice as he suited up in the locker room. They’d agreed to share the pitch with the Gryffindors for the evening, both teams eager to get in as much practice as possible before the Quidditch Cup and he gritted his teeth as he listened to the annoying chatter of the opposing team nearby, namely McLaggen, with his obnoxious drawl, going on about whatever girl he had managed to sack that week. Draco was just about to tune him out when he heard something that made his breath catch in his lungs.

“That’s right boys, I’m taking Y/L/N out tomorrow night. Now accepting bets on how long it will take to get her in bed. Ten galleons says we leave after one drink!” Their side of the room howled with laughter and eager cheers and jaunts.

Draco’s side of the room began to spin.

You were going out with McLaggen? Since when? And of all people, why him? Suddenly his uniform felt too tight around his neck, like he couldn’t breathe. He tugged at his collar and found that his hands were shaking. He was furious. Furious at the way McLaggen was talking about you, like you were any other girl. His mind raced with mental images of you two snuggled in a booth at the Three Broomsticks, walking hand in hand down the corridors, you wearing a jersey with his name on it and he felt a wave of nausea wash over him. No, he definitely didn’t want you going out with McLaggen. But, the more he thought about it, he realized he didn’t want you going out with anyone…

You were right that spending time with friends at dinner had been a welcome distraction and you felt calmer as you trailed your way back to the common room. You were about to go to your room to study a bit before bed when the door flung open behind you and Draco marched in, his eyes scanning the room wildly before landing on you. You had never seen him this angry before, and certainly never at you as he grasped your arm firmly and pulled you into the corridor, away from the prying eyes and whispers of your fellow housemates.

“Ouch – Draco – that hurts! Let go of me! What’s the matter with you?” you demanded as you tried unsuccessfully to wiggle out of his strong grasp.

“Is this some kind of joke to you?” he asked. “Because it’s not funny in the slightest.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“McLaggen” he said, breathing heavily, “you and McLaggen.”

Oh, you realized. News travels fast.

You pulled out of his grasp and straightened up, meeting his burning gaze with your own.

“Not sure what difference it makes to you who I choose to go on a date with” you said smartly.

Draco let out an aggravated sigh and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. Of course it made a difference to him. It made a massive difference to him, he realized, but he couldn’t coherently say what he wanted to say through the white-hot anger he felt pulsing through his blood, through the mental images of you with McLaggen that had plagued him all night.

“McLaggen, really?” was the only response he was able to muster.

“Oh, piss off, Draco!” you said. He didn’t have the right to be angry. He didn’t have a say in the matter. He was the one with a girlfriend to begin with.

Realizing what a mess he was making of the situation, Draco tried desperately to backpedal, to see if he could change your mind, to buy himself some time to figure all of this out.

“Look, he’s not a good guy. I heard him talking about you in the locker room, the things he was saying–”

You held up a hand in response, silencing him. “Just stop, Draco. You don’t get to do this” you said as you brushed passed him, back into the common room, leaving him alone in the corridor as he cradled his head in his hands.

You eyed yourself in the mirror the next evening, taking in your stylish sweater, short skirt, tights and heeled boots. It felt nice to be wanted, to be seen by someone, even if it wasn’t the person you wanted it to be. You felt a familiar ache in your chest as you thought briefly of Draco and how deeply you wished you were getting ready for a date with him instead. But you quickly dismissed the thought as you remembered every painful moment you’d watched him and Pansy; instead, you grabbed your coat and headed to the common room.

You tried to make your way quickly to the door when you realized Draco and nearly all of your friends were there. You could feel Draco’s eyes on you like a hex, could feel the weight of his stare, distinct from everyone else’s and you hazarded a glance his way against your better judgement. His arms were crossed and he had an angry scowl on his face. You met his eyes and amidst the palpable anger, for just a moment, you thought you could see a sparkle, a glint that said stay here, with me, please don’t do this. It nearly pulled you back in, but you turned away quickly, unwilling to acknowledge how those eyes, how this boy made you feel.

Your date went as predictably as you could have imagined. Revenge had felt sweet as you thought back to Draco’s reaction to your date, but now you were certainly paying the price. Gone was the bashful, blushing Cormac that had asked you out and in front of you was the self-flattering egotistical boy you had heard so much about. He bragged about himself relentlessly and he laid it on thick, inching closer to you every minute as you wiggled further and further away.

Your first butterbeer went down without any effort, proving to be a sweet distraction and a clear obstacle in front of your lips, which Cormac continually eyed.

“Another?” he asked eagerly, as you set down your empty glass.

“Sure” you said, smiling, looking forward to a moment of peace as he walked back to the bar, though he returned all too quickly.

“Here you are, beautiful” he said cheesily as he took a big gulp of his own.

You reached for the mug, happy to drown in the sweet liquid, but the first sip you took tasted awful: bitter and metallic, like the batch had gone bad.

“Gosh – I think something’s wrong with this” you said as you set the drink down, wincing.

“No, no I asked for another shot in it. It’s just stronger than you’re used to” Cormac said, winking as he pushed the drink back towards you.

Well, thank Merlin for that I suppose you thought as you choked down another sip and he renewed his efforts of bragging and flirting. Before long you felt a fog settle over your mind like a thick blanket. You felt yourself zoning in and out on his words, your thoughts wandering aimlessly.

“Gotta take a piss” he said abruptly, bringing you back to reality as he stood up. You looked down at your near-full drink and tried to think of a way to end this miserable date. You saw a large potted plant beside you, and took the opportunity to dump your drink there, hoping that Cormac would think you’d finished it and take the hint that it was time to leave.

Sure enough, he registered your empty glass immediately. “Whoa! I’ve got to catch up!” he said, as he chugged the last of his.

“I think I’d like to head back, if that’s alright with you?” you asked.

“Of course!” he said eagerly, rushing to help you out of the booth and wrap an arm around you possessively. You tried to create some distance between you but upon standing you realized the foggy feeling in your brain had wound its way to each of your limbs, making you sway slightly, so you relented and leaned into his strong frame.

You walked in silence for a while, your feet crunching on the frost on the ground. It was dark now and the street was illuminated only by the ambient light from the storefronts. Suddenly, Cormac surprised you by pulling you close to him in a small alleyway. He began kissing your neck, his lips working their way to the spot beneath your ear. “So beautiful” he murmured against your skin. “Never thought I’d see the day Malfoy’s girl took up an interest in me, but you are a slithery little minx aren’t you?”

His words, his lips, his everything felt so wrong and you struggled, scraping against his chest, trying to push his weight off of you fruitlessly; each of your limbs felt heavy and clumsy, uncoordinated.

“Sstop, Cormac” you managed weakly.

“What’s that?” he muttered, his hot breath making you feel feverish, flu-like.

“Sstop!” you said more forcefullyas you moved to push him off of you.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked angrily, pulling back.

“M’going backt’castle” you slurred, stumbling slightly as you made for the main road.

“No! Come back!” he said, reaching for you and grasping the back of your jacket strongly, nearly knocking you to the ground. “You can’t come out, dressed like that, then spend all night making eyes at me just to shut me down.”

“Leggo of me!” you said, your voice rising. You wiggled out of your jacket, leaving him empty handed as you forged forward into the cold. A few people walked by, muttering and eyeing Cormac suspiciously, keeping him grounded in place.

The walk back to the castle felt like it took years, like one of those dreams where you’re running but no matter how fast you move your legs you don’t make any progress. It was undeniably cold as thick snowflakes began to fall from the sky and gather at your feet. You could feel the cold on the outside of your body, but your insides were hot, like you could feel the blood running through your veins slowly, weighing down your movements, your thoughts. You could have cried when you finally reached the castle doors nearest the astronomy tower. You were shivering violently, you were uncomfortable and you were desperately confused.

If anyone would have asked, Draco would have said he was reading. He’d even brought a book with him as an alibi, though it remained unopened in his lap as he sat in the window in the astronomy tower, hoping to catch a glimpse of you and McLaggen headed back from your date.

He didn’t know why he was so determined to put himself through the punishment of seeing you with him, perhaps because he knew had to see it with his own eyes to believe it, to believe you were truly happy with him, truly enjoying yourself. He thought about how beautiful you had looked tonight, your short skirt, your rosy cheeks, and he felt his heart squeeze as he ran his hands through his hair in frustration for the thousandth time, permanently mussing his normally slicked back locks. He let his head fall back against the cold stone wall when he saw erratic movement out of the corner of his eye and leaned forward in the window to get a better glimpse. Even between the thick, heavy snowfall and the dim light he could tell it was you, could see the color of your hair and your outfit and when he realized you were alone he was on his feet and moving before he knew what he was going to say. He dashed through the door and into the gathering snow.

“Y/N!” he called as he approached you.

You were hunched over hugging your arms to your body and he realized, suddenly, that you weren’t wearing your jacket. Merlin he was going to kill McLaggen.

“What’s wrong, where’s your jacket?” he asked, frantically, pulling off his own suit jacket to wrap around your shoulders.

You looked up at him and blinked slowly, searching his face like you were trying to figure out who he was, like you’d never seen him before.

“Y/N?” he asked again, as his heart began to quicken its pace with concern. “Are you okay?”

You looked confused at his question and as you stared at him, he took the opportunity to examine you properly. Your pupils were dilated wide and he could tell you were breathing heavily and shivering at the same time. He pressed a hand to your forehead and could feel you burning up despite the freezing temperature.

“Come on, let’s get you inside, alright?” he placed an arm around you gently and you melted into his embrace as he guided you up the stairs and into an empty classroom.

“What’s gone on, then? You’re all sorts of out of it. Where’s McLaggen?” he asked.

You shook your head in reply but didn’t offer more than that as your eyes fell to the floor.

“What were you drinking?” he tried.

“Butterbeers” you whispered.

This is helpless, he thought, yet he couldn’t ignore the feeling deep in chest that something wasn't right. He knew you better than anyone, better sometimes than he knew himself, and it wasn’t like you to go out and get drunk with a lad you hardly knew, and it wasn’t like you to wander around aimlessly without a jacket in the middle of winter, something was definitely wrong.  

“Tasted funny” you murmured quietly, pulling Draco out of his thoughts.

“What?” he said, wanting to make sure he’d heard you right.

“Tasted bad, so I didn’t drink all of it.”

Draco’s heartbeat thudded harder. He had read about a potion that was circulating around bars in London, intended to disorient and take advantage of people. This couldn’t possibly be it… McLaggen wouldn’t…. would he? Draco tried frantically to remember what he’d read as you swayed precariously on your feet and he caught you just in time, pulling you into his chest, too worried about you to enjoy the sensation of you pressed against him. He remembered the potion had a distinct taste, which made it difficult to mask. Sour? Tart? Bitter? Licorice, that was it. It tasted like black licorice.

“What did it taste like?” he prompted. “Your butterbeer, did it taste like something?” he asked, praying he was wrong.

“So gross” you murmured into his chest before you turned your head to face him as he looked down at you.

“Please, darling, try to think, did it remind you of something? A food? A candy maybe?” he tried.

“Yeah” you said quietly, thoughtfully. “Bertie Botts – what’s the ones we always pick out? The black ones?”

Fuck he thought.

“Licorice” he said sullenly.

“Licorice” you agreed.

His mind raced. He was going to kill him. He was going to bloody murder McLaggen with his bare hands. He was in utter disbelief that he would do something like this, to you, the most important person in Draco's life. As he thought about it, he pulled you further into his arms and you let out a contented sigh.

He needed to focus on getting you better. While it didn’t have long term harmful effects, he knew this potion was wreaking havoc on your body. From what he remembered the effects came in two stages, the first being disorientation, sluggishness and confusion and the second being a complete loss of inhibitions, making the drinker say and do whatever was on their mind, whatever their heart desired. It was no secret that Draco was good at potions, and he was hopeful he might be able to spare you the rest of the symptoms if they hadn’t set in yet.

“C’mon then” he said, urging you towards the door. You could barely stand on your own, nearly sinking to the floor again. Without wasting a moment, Draco scooped you into his arms, bridal style, one arm around your back, the other under your legs, your head resting in the crook of his neck as he carried you back to the common room.

He moved quickly, his mind working in overdrive thinking of the ingredients he needed for the remedy. You stirred in his arms, winding your own around his neck and pulling yourself closer into him. Your proximity sent a small shiver down his spine and he unconsciously gripped you tighter.

You murmured something against his neck, your breath tingling his skin.

“Hm?” he asked, struggling to understand you.

“Smell so good, you always smell so good, Draco” you said.

He smiled to himself and let out a small laugh, blushing. “Thank you” he whispered quietly.

You giggled back and he was glad to see that you were still conscious and coherent.

You wound your fingers into the hair at the base of his neck and nuzzled into the tender spot just below his ear. He all but dropped you when he felt your warm lips against his skin, pressing kisses to his neck. He was grateful you were near the dungeons, nearly to his room, unsure how much longer he could be steady on his feet.

He tried to wiggle away, his mind and his body fighting each other in their reactions. He knew this was wrong, knew you had no idea what you were doing, but your lips were absolutely sinful against his skin, warm and wet and he couldn’t deny that the sensation stirred a reaction in every inch of his body, especially as you worked your way across his jaw, towards his lips.

He fumbled with the doorknob to his room and quickly ushered you both inside, kicking the door closed behind him as he set you down on your feet. Though he’d let go of your legs, you clung to his neck and pressed your body into his, your face inches from his. He swallowed deeply as he looked at you – you were very much coherent now, your cheeks a rosy red and your eyes, though still dilated, shimmered at him. You bit your bottom lip seductively as your eyes trailed to his lips and you leaned forward.

For half a second, he considered it. You were right there in front of him, the subject of his every waking thought for the last two days, and frankly for the last three years if he was honest, and you wanted him, that much was clear. He imagined sinking his lips to yours, feeling their wet warmth pressed against him, the velvet taste of your tongue.

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, using every ounce of strength he had left to pull away from you. You let out a small groan that should not have affected him the way it did as he grasped your hips firmly and walked you to the bed.

“You don’t want to kiss me?” you asked, the pout on your face nearly bringing him to his knees.

“Not like this, not tonight” he managed, his voice husky as he kept his eyes averted from yours. “Sit” he said, gesturing to the bed.

You relented and he made his way over to a small cabinet in his room, pulling out the ingredients he needed to right this unbelievable situation.

“It’s because of Pansy, isn’t it?” you said behind him.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, trying to find the words to say in response.

“I think she’s terrible, Draco. I hate seeing the two of you together.”

He hazarded a glance in your direction, shocked at the truth of your words. You were laying back on his bed, eyes tracing the ceiling as you spoke. This was a conversation that needed to happen, he had loads he needed to say to you, but not like this. He remained silent as he sped up his efforts, mixing the ingredients in front of him; he was grateful that you remained silent for a while.

He had nearly finished when he heard shuffling behind him. He turned to see that you had pulled off your boots and you were pulling your sweater over your head.

Merlin you were going to be the death of him.

“Whoa whoa” he said, running to your side and trying to get you to stop just as your sweater hit the floor, leaving you in a dark lace bralette that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. He peeled his eyes away, searching for a shirt, a towel, a hoodie, anything he could to cover you, finding one of his hoodies on a nearby chair just as you grabbed his wrist, pulling yourself into his arms again.

“Should be me and you, Draco” you muttered against his lips. You ran your hands up his chest and then ran one palm slowly downward, across his ribs, his stomach, his belt until his hand shot out and grasped yours firmly. His heart was beating so hard in his chest, he was having trouble breathing. He swallowed deeply before taking your face firmly in his hands, as much to get your attention as to keep himself from kissing you.

“Please listen to me. I’m begging you. You are absolutely beautiful, Y/N, breathtaking. And I would truly love nothing more than to have my way with you right now. Really. You have… no idea” he said, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“But you’re not okay, you drank something you shouldn’t have and you have to focus on getting better, alright? Then we can talk about… all of this.”

You looked confused and more than a little disappointed, a pout set against your lips again, but your eyes traced his face, met his own and it was like a deeper part of you understood that he was trying to protect you.

“Okay” you sighed, relenting as you took the hoodie and pulled it over your head.

“Drink this” he said, offering the remedy he had made.

You eyed him warily but took the cup he offered you, sniffing it before taking a sip.

“Tastes good” you said, smiling at him, and he felt the first sense of relief since he’d found you that night as you finished the rest eagerly.

His eyes could have been deceiving him, but he swore he could see your pupils return to normal size as you blinked slowly.

“M’tired” you murmured. “Can I sleep?” you asked, glancing at his bed.

“Of course” he said, without hesitation as he helped you crawl under the sheets. You were out in a matter of minutes and he sunk into the couch next to his bed, exhausted, as he looked at you, trying to comprehend what the hell had just happened.

It had to have been the potion. But the potion didn’t make people say or do things they didn’t mean… it removed their inhibitions, allowed them to relax and pursue the deepest desires of their hearts, things they wouldn’t say or do otherwise. Was that it then? You were really attracted to him all this time? He thought about how long he had agonized over telling you how he felt, how he didn’t want to ruin your friendship and never felt any inclination that you saw him that way. It had driven him mad and was ultimately the reason he had agreed to start dating Pansy, hoping to distract himself from something he never thought possible.

He sighed, leaning his head back against the couch and running his hands over his face.

There was no way he was going to be able to sleep tonight, between wanting to make sure you were okay and reliving over and over and over again the way you looked at him, the desire in your eyes, the pout on your lips and your hot breath against his neck. He pulled off his shirt and pulled on a pair of sweatpants as he settled into the couch, thinking what a perfect vision you were in his bed, your hair splayed out on the pillow, wearing his sweatshirt, your chest gently rising and falling.

Your first thought was that you felt like you were on a cloud. You were immensely comfortable and you burrowed further into the sheets that were soft and silky and warm. You sighed deeply, breathing in a familiar scent that made you smile. You rested a moment longer before your brain slowly came to life; these sheets weren’t your sheets, and that smell was… Draco?

Your eyes fluttered open slowly as you tried to take in your surroundings. You were in a large four poster bed in a sea of emerald sheets; Draco’s room you thought. You looked down at your outfit, an oversized Slytherin sweatshirt you knew well; Draco’s sweatshirt. You looked to the other side of the bed and found it empty and you were surprised at how disappointed that made you feel. You stirred and turned to see Draco’s sleeping figure splayed over the small couch in his room, his frame much too large for it, making you smile. You let your eyes wander over his sleeping form, shirtless with a pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips. You looked around the room to see various articles of both of your clothing strewn on the floor. Oh god you thought. Did we…? You frantically tried to remember the night before and felt a sharp ache behind your eyes.

“Ahh” you said in pain as you sat up and rubbed your eyes, seeking relief.

The noise stirred Draco out of his sleep. It took him a moment to register the scene in front of him, you, in his bed, wearing his sweatshirt, him on the couch, and it all came back to him. You were hunched over and rubbing your eyes, your face squeezed in pain and he pulled himself quickly to his feet, making his way over to you and sitting on the bed next to you.

“Are you alright?” he asked, placing a hand gingerly on the side of your head.

You dropped your hands at the feeling of his. You had always been close, but this felt like a new level of intimacy as you met his eyes and saw them clouded with concern for you. His hand moved to cup your face, his thumb tracing your cheek tenderly.

“I’m f-fine” you managed, your skin warming under his touch as you desperately tried to piece together what had happened between the Draco that had scowled at you on the way to your date and the Draco in front of you. It was like a massive black hole existed where your memories should be.

He registered the look of confusion on your face.

“Do you remember... last night?” he asked, pulling his hand back. You wanted so desperately to remember, to understand what had him looking at you like that, his closeness and affection.

You closed your eyes, forcing yourself to try but were only met with the same sharp ache behind your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I can’t… I don’t…” you trailed off and it was silent for a moment. “Draco, did we…?” you let the question linger unfinished as you met his gaze.

His eyes widened, panicked. “No! No. I promise you. Nothing of the sort” he said, trying to reassure you. He smiled at you and you registered an uncanny pink in his cheeks as bobbed his head from side to side “…Despite your very best and most persistent efforts to the contrary.”

Now it was your turn to blush as you covered your mouth with your hands.

“WHAT?” you asked, astonished, humiliated. “Draco, I am so sorry, I—” you paused. What was there to be sorry for? The truth had clearly come out and the way he was smiling at you made you think he wasn’t unhappy to hear it. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t confused, he wasn’t demanding an explanation. In fact, he was looking at you in a way you had only dreamed of, his eyes full of tenderness as they traced your hair, your face.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for” he said quickly, his signature smile on his face.

“Okay…” you said, trying to feel out this new situation. “Are you going to tell me what happened? And why I don’t remember anything?”

His smile faded and he looked away from you. You could see his Adam’s apple bob as he took a deep breath, silent for a while.

“Draco… you’re freaking me out” you said, your voice wavering as panic rose in your chest. “W-why don’t I remember anything?”

The pain and fear in your voice squeezed his heart. “Hey, it’s alright, you’re okay, come here” he said, pulling you into his chest. You curled into him, letting your heart beat against his, like it was the most natural thing in the world, your body seeming to remember something you couldn’t as it instantly relaxed.

“I don’t want to upset you, but you need to know the truth” he murmured against your hair. You pulled back to look at him, but he didn’t let you fully out of his grasp, his arms remaining circled around you as he took a deep breath.

“McLaggen – Cormac. You went out with him. From what I can gather you were at the Three Broomsticks and had a few drinks, a few butterbeers, but he put something in them. I’d read about it, it’s a potion that’s meant to…” he grimaced. “It’s meant to take advantage of someone, to make them confused and then drop their inhibitions. It’s said to taste awful, like—”

“Licorice” you said, a memory bubbling to the surface at the tart taste on your tongue, the greedy look in Cormac’s eyes as he encroached on your personal space. Your stomach roiled at the recollection and you scrunched your face in pain, the memories coming fast like flashes of a movie in your mind: you dumping your drink in the plant, Cormac pulling you into the alleyway, his lips, the weight of his body on you. You were breathing heavily and didn’t realize that you were crying until you felt warm wetness on your cheeks.

“No, no, no” Draco muttered as he pulled you back into his arms. “M’sorry. I’m so sorry. Please tell me he didn’t hurt you, didn’t take advantage of you, please. I’ll kill him. I’ll fucking kill him.”

He let you cry as the weight of what could have been washed over you, rubbing circles into your back, murmuring calmly against your hair. “You’re safe now, it’s okay. I swear on my life I will never let anything like that happen to you, ever again.”

Soon your cries turned to ragged breaths. “It’s not your fault, Draco. You couldn’t have known, neither of us could.”

“I should have known, I told you I heard the way he was talking about you, like it was such a sure thing you were going to hook up with him.” You could feel Draco physically tense as he talked about it, every muscle taut. “I let my anger cloud my judgement. I was furious at the way he was talking about you, furious that you’d agreed to go out with him.”

You pulled back to look at him, wiping the remaining tears from your cheeks. “Yeah, I gathered as much when you berated me” you said, shooting him a glare.

“I-I shouldn’t have done that. I mean, I meant it, but not in the way it came out. I wasn’t mad at you for going out with McLaggen. I was mad at you for going out with… anyone… anyone that wasn’t me…” he said, letting the truth linger in the air.

“W-what?” you said, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

He smiled shyly and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve fancied you for… a long time, but I didn’t want to ruin what we already had. You’re so important to me and I realized I would take having you in my life as a friend over not having you in my life at all should my feelings not be reciprocated.”

“But you’re literally dating Pansy!?” you replied, overwhelmed, exasperated.

“Was” he said.

“What?” you replied.

“Was dating Pansy. The minute I realized what a fuck up I’d been, I broke up with her. Yesterday, actually, just before you left for your date.”

You pouted at that and the familiar look of frustration on your face made him smile as he relived the same look on your face from the night before.

“Well, I obviously didn’t know that” you said, blushing deeply.

“Obviously” he agreed.

Your eyes fell to your lap and he reached over to tangle his fingers in yours reassuringly. You took them hesitantly at first, then eagerly, the warmth from his palm sending warmth to the rest of your body as well as you smiled, blushing.

You looked up to find Draco already staring at you, his eyes sizzling with warmth as they met yours before flitting, nearly imperceptibly to your lips and suddenly you were awash with another flood of memories from the night before.

You and Draco, just centimeters apart, him breathing heavily as he glanced at your lips.

The feeling of his taut chest underneath your fingers, your palm running over his abs.

His hands firm but tender on your cheeks. His words…“You are absolutely beautiful, Y/N, breathtaking. And I would truly love nothing more than to have my way with you right now. Really. You have… no idea.”

Curling into his bed, surrounded by his scent, and warm lips against your temple as he pulled the sheets around you.

“I-I remember” you said quietly.

His eyebrows quirked up accompanying a surprised look on his face.

“And?” he said, treading carefully, not wanting to get his hopes up that last night was more than just a side effect of a potion.

“And...” you started, blushing deeply and tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, squeezing his hand as you met his eyes, shrugging bashfully, “I meant it, Draco, all of it. Not the way I imagined telling you, but gosh I’ve fancied you too, for a long time.”

He reached out with his free hand and pressed it to your forehead.

“What are you doing?” you giggled.

“Need to make sure you’re not still talking jibberish. You’re feeling okay? You mean it?” he said, moving his hand to various parts of your temple.

You reached up to pull his hand off of you. “I mean it, Draco” you said, smiling as he looked at you and laughed before the familiar look of desire crossed over his face again.

“Then please, for the love of Slytherin, can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper; his boldness and sincerity setting your body alight.

You nodded, smiling widely.

He leaned forward, closing the distance between you as his hand moved to cup your face locking you into him. Your body moved automatically, gravitating to him as his lips hovered over yours, ghosting them, tickling them with the barest touch of his own, savoring the anticipation of the satisfaction to come, the way you had wound your arms around his neck, the way you were breathing erratically against him, reveling in your desire before relenting. He kissed you sweetly, softly but deeply, with a passion that electrified every inch of your body. He pushed you backwards gently, laying you in the feathery softness of his bed as he rested his body comfortably atop you, tracing your bottom lip with his tongue, as you opened up to him immediately. Your kisses were like a dance you both already knew the steps to, effortless, beautiful, natural, your bodies so in tune to each other as your tongues tangled and he grasped you firmly against him.

He pulled away to look at you, breathing heavily and you couldn’t help the whine that escaped your lips at the lack of contact. Never wanting to disappoint you again, he pressed his lips to yours and you wound your hands into his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer. You could feel him smiling against you as he pulled back again.

“Wait, wait” he said, pressing a kiss to your pout.

“What is it Draco?” you asked, breathless and impatient, his name on your kiss-swollen lips stealing his heart.

“Be mine?” he asked.

“It’s taken you long enough to realize it, but I’ve always been yours, Draco” you replied.

He hung his head in regret before meeting your eyes. “Trust me when I tell you--” he said, pressing a quick, warm kiss to your lips.

“I’m going to spend--” a deeper kiss.

“Every day” deeper still.

“Making it up to you” he said, sinking into you in earnest.

[sol-flo]

think i might allow myself a little effortpost about her main outfit tomorrow because i'm just so mad about it. not only does it not make sense for the setting but it's ugly and poorly coordinated too. the most visible symptom of a movie with no care put into the details. fuck off

the hunger games prequel was such an aesthetic nightmare. like the story and lead performances were bad but that's the low hanging fruit. the more pressing matter is how fucking ugly it is

[snuffalufagus]

brb gonna learn to quilt

[pinkrelish]

this is so eddie and adrie coded

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8YGbXB6/

okay, but lets make it sad | wc: 555 | angst warning

this is him while he's still living at steve's in a long effort to recover from the panic attack that led to his ultimate breakdown after trying to feed adrie with cold, shaky hands, so unsteady from sleep deprivation and trembling from constant spikes of fear, attempting to survive on his own and keep his newborn alive, but couldn't get her to take her bottle.

nancy took a lot of his stress on herself, but it only made him feel worse leaving his baby with another family to go into work every morning, and coming back to a house that wasn't his. guilt and shame ate away at him when he asked for updates he should've been there for, normal things he should've been able to do himself, but couldn't.

nancy and steve gave him room, gave him space, told him he's a good dad, suggested he try bonding with her.

eddie tried. he loved adrie with his whole heart—so much so it felt like he grew a second heart just for loving her, that must've been the constant pressure suffocating his chest—but he didn't feel the bond, the connection. he felt empty, he felt full. he felt nothing, he felt everything. he felt like a failure when his best friends did everything for him, including raise his baby alongside their own, taking on his burdens and giving him a place to stay, a place at their table, a place to sleep.

the first few bonding sessions were quiet, silent tears rolling streaks through the dirt on his cheeks. he laid next to his newborn on her tiny hand-me-down quilt and cried. this small, innocent person was his, and besides sharing a last name, she didn't feel like his. no, not her. she was so smiley for the man who had nothing, was nothing, was another face in the confusion of people who doted on her. someone who was nauseous with dread at the thought of her calling someone else daddy because he was bad at being one.

with time, eddie opened up to adrienne. he didn't just stare at her, he held her up to his shoulder while telling her about his day. he rocked her while talking through his thoughts about a truck that came into the shop. he muttered about life while she slept on his chest, ear to his hummingbird heart.

over months he learned to play with her. she was a little thing. dainty, fragile, giggly, ten teensy toes he liked to count and wiggle. he told jokes—bad ones, but when he smiled, she smiled even bigger. "yeah, you like that one?" he asked, and she babbled into a hiccup, then a laugh. he didn't know why, but that one got him, seeing her so overwhelmed with joy she had to laugh about it. a wet, raspy laugh. his breath emptied from his lungs in a stutter and water clung to his lashes. "yeah?" he asked again, throat closing tight. his voice pitched high, forcing out the question he never wanted to ask, afraid of the answer, "are you happy to see me?" she squeezed his finger with all her might and tugged on his hair even mightier, back to babbling smiley nonsense, drooling on the bib he dabbed at the corner of her mouth, so happy to see him.

[dawneternal]

The Benevolent | Eris x Healer OC | Two

☁︎ notes: so much tea drinking in this chapter?? my bad

☁︎ warnings: descriptions of wounds and blood, talk of physical abuse, implied domestic violence

☁︎ word count: 1.9k

☁︎ AO3 Link // Masterlist

☁︎ tags: @mybestfriendmademe @teddyhoneybear @cauldronblssd @imma-too-many-fandoms @tele86

Eris barely remembered the night before. He did not remember the questions his father had asked or the nonsense he’d given as answers. He knew in his gut that the truth remained tucked away and that’s all that mattered. 

He did recall his mother hurrying away, though the image was blurry from the pain. He thought he remembered an angel, kneeling by his bedside and blessing him with a touch to his brow. But of course, that was delirium from the blood loss. Every snap of his father’s whip, however, echoed through his memory in a loop.

He woke once in the night, head pounding as he surveyed the room. The moonlight revealed his mother’s sleeping form on the couch by the fire. On the floor beside his bed, another figure slept curled up with a throw pillow. Maybe two figures? It was hard to tell, their outline bulky beneath the quilt. He had a vague understanding that he should be dead, or at least in a great deal of pain. But the bedding felt real enough beneath his hands, the ache in his head like an anchor.

He did not have a chance to wonder about it any further before sleep pulled him away again. He dreamt of the angel and her lovely voice, deep and smooth, easing his pain. 

Worry not , she had said. So Eris slept deep and easy. 

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ 

When Eris woke he braced for the full impact of his injury to envelope him, but it never arrived. There was a dull ache throughout his body, but nothing compared to what he felt the night before. He found that he could sit up and move and even stretch with no resistance. 

He flicked on the fae lights and twisted in the mirror, examining his back. There were large, pink scars still tender to the touch. And he was clean, not a hint of the ocean of blood that had threatened to swallow him in his bed. 

That was how his mother found him, staring at his back with confusion and frustration written across his features. She let out a silent sigh as she set down the tea tray, preparing for his interrogation. 

“Someone else was here,” He said. Or rather, demanded, eyes meeting hers in the mirror. 

“Yes. The healer I hired.” She did not look at him, focused on spooning tea leaves into the sieve. 

“Beron forbade it.” His tone was sharp. 

“He will not know. He was called away this morning and you leave for the Spring Court this afternoon.” 

Here she was, pulling strings again. He would always admire her cleverness and always dread the consequences. She was constantly doing favors just so she would be owed one in return. It was the oldest Fae trick in the book and the only way she could gain footing in this court. 

Most of the court and its people would follow her over Beron in a heartbeat. But his reach was wide and his eyes all-seeing. Not to mention his punishments, always cruel and disturbingly creative. Thus, these games of bargains and favors remained. Whispered in dark halls and midnight meetings. Sometimes outside the borders of the court. So far, she had managed not to be caught. Beron underestimated her and one day it would be her salvation and the last nail in his coffin. 

“You hired a secret healer?” 

“And swore her to secrecy, yes,” It was an idea she’d toyed with for a while, but Eris had always asked her not to do it. It was not worth it, to risk some healer’s life on his sorry behalf. 

“Did you tell her the nature of the job?” 

Edana pursed her lips, quiet as she placed sugar cubes into cups. He sat down slowly, releasing a long sigh as he went. 

“The risks, mother,” He said, weariness making it sound more thorny than he meant. 

“Do not scold me, son,” Her tone was firm but her voice shook. She looked at him, russet eyes gleaming. “You would have died last night if she had not been there. I have said it before and I will say it as many times as it takes for this court to hear me. I will not lose another son.” 

Her lips trembled as she let her body crumple into a chair. Eris stood and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her ruddy hair. Two sides of the same coin, they were. Too soft for Beron’s preferred shade of games, too stubborn not to play their own. 

The purple smudges under her eyes were so pronounced Eris wondered if she’d slept at all. If she’d truly slept in years. 

“Why now?” He asked, his voice soft. An uneasiness grew in the pit of his stomach. Edana took a moment to answer, her eyes troubled and distant as she warred with something that Eris couldn’t see. 

“Things are brewing, Eris,” She said, “Not just in your father’s court, but in Prythian. I needed to ease my mind. To have one less things to worry about.” 

He didn’t bother asking what she alluded to. She would have told him already if she were able to. Whether it be Beron or some other higher power, she stayed vague for a reason. It did nothing for that sense of unease.

“Thesan has requested to speak with me,” Edana sighed, sounding a little more like herself again, “I assume I will be receiving a scolding from him as well.” 

“No more scolding from me,” Eris sat back down and pulled a cup of tea towards himself, “You know what you’re doing. I just don't want to see you hurt.”

She gave him a small smile and took a sip from her own cup. 

“You’re a force to be reckoned with, mother. One day you will get your justice.” 

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ 

Lady Edana sat across from Thesan, tea and pastries arranged on lace runners between them. The table sat on a balcony, so similar to where she had met with Aya. Fluffy clouds floated past the stone pillars, the arches between them like picture frames housing masterful paintings. 

Edana did not care for the Dawn Court. Everything here was too farefree, threatening to float away with the lightest touch. She preferred to be on solid ground, back in her own court with its scents of humus and ripe apples. 

“Edana,” Thesan began. His eyes avoided hers, as if her opinion would be read clearly within the amber. 

Edana said nothing, anger ebbing and flowing through her like the tide. One moment she had herself worked up, convinced that everyone around her was trying to prove that she was nothing but a fool, a paranoid little housewife. Then she would remind herself that those ideas were Beron’s creation, her anxiety his design. And she calmed, letting all of those feelings flow away until the cycle began again.

“I understand your machinations,” He said, “I know their importance, and I will contribute where I can. But you cannot draw my loved ones into this game. Especially without consulting me.” 

“Loved ones?” Edana asked, meeting his gaze as she took a sip of her tea.

“Aya is my cousin, Edana,” Thesan sighed. 

“Is there a reason you kept her hidden?” 

“She is not hidden. The Dawn Court knows her. But she has always insisted on earning her own living. She wants her success to be her own.” 

“I see,” Edana said, though her expression suggested that she did not see.

“I have a feeling that you elected to ask for forgiveness instead of permission.” He continued. 

Edana tossed her head, but she did not disagree. That was exactly what she had done. Though she had to admit that the fact of Aya and Thesan being related made her decision look much bolder. She had never meant to make a statement. 

“I suggest you do not make a habit of it,” Thesan’s voice rumbled through the balcony. 

Some considered Thesan to be the weakest of the High Lords. Even Tarquin, young and experienced as he may be, could move oceans with his power. But to hear Thesan speak this way painted a different image. Like he possessed some hidden blade within him that was as sharp as he was gentle. Like perhaps, the other courts would be grateful that he stayed close to his palace in this sky. 

Edana finally accepted that perhaps her plans had been rash. Maybe she had underestimated how easily Thesan would forgive her. The clouds floating by the balcony grew dark with the threat of a storm. 

“I cannot break the bargain,” She said, eyes on the table before her. She studied the crumbs of her macaron, pastel purple and flavored with lavender. 

“No,” Said Thesan, a growl full of warning, “But if you misstep, I will have Helion dismantle it.

“I did it for Eris,” Edana choked out, looking up at him. The lovely brown of his eyes was so soft compared to the command in his voice.

“Then he will help protect her. Or he will need more than one healer.” 

“Beron will not touch her.” 

“Do not make promises you cannot keep.” 

They were quiet for a long moment. Then the clouds lightened again, all of the tension gone from the sky. Thesan leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. 

“I did not call you here to scold you,” He said, and Edana thought bitterly that it was a little late for that sentiment. 

“I wish to warn you.” 

She took another sip of her tea and wondered if this was merely a bridge to another lecture about her schemes and manipulations. As if she was a reckless child with no self control, and not a woman trapped in the underground halls of the Autumn Court. They all gave her sympathy, but if they would not help her with their actions then their words meant nothing. She prepared to tell him off. 

“I wish to warn you about Aya,” His eyes narrowed at Edana’s refusal to answer. But he had her attention now. She pursed her lips and locked eyes with him. “There are facets to her power she has not yet discovered. She could rival the best of us one day.” 

“And you have not told her this?” Edana’s brows furrowed, “You do not wish for her to control it?”

“Not all of us fancy ourselves puppet masters,” Thesan said tightly, “I was hoping it would be her own discovery. She’s so unsure of herself.”

Edana stared for a moment longer. It had crossed her mind, the depth of Aya’s power. The ease with which she manipulated Eris’s wounds. Her skill was greater than any other healer Edana had met.

“And I suppose you will not tell me any more about her?” 

“It is not my story to tell.” 

Edana’s nerves were feeling a bit frayed. A scolding, a threat, and now a warning. 

“Are we done here, Thesan?” She sighed and dropped the napkin from her lap onto the table. 

Thesan’s eyes narrowed. No, he had hoped this conversation might last a little longer. He had more to say. But he was as tired of Edana as she was of him. 

“Yes, Edana.” 

Truthfully, she had always been this way. Paranoid, calculating. Even in her days as a young and single courtier, she gambled for scandals and drama, her ante paid in lovers. She had played these games for so long now, her entire world was tinted. Perhaps the right person could have encouraged her to hone that energy. But Beron brought out the worst in everyone. 

Some thought her sons inherited their cunning from their father, but it was all their mother’s. All of their scheming they learned from her. Beron was as dense as he was cruel. 

Thesan watched the Lady leave, her burgundy skirts swishing over the stone floor. Lady of Autumn, Queen of games, mother of foxes.

[qqueenofhades]

I’m in undergrad but I keep hearing and seeing people talking about using chatgpt for their schoolwork and it makes me want to rip my hair out lol. Like even the “radical” anti-chatgpt ones are like “Oh yea it’s only good for outlines I’d never use it for my actual essay.” You’re using it for OUTLINES????? That’s the easy part!! I can’t wait to get to grad school and hopefully be surrounded by people who actually want to be there 😭😭😭

Not to sound COMPLETELY like a grumpy old codger (although lbr, I am), but I think this whole AI craze is the obvious result of an education system that prizes "teaching for the test" as the most important thing, wherein there are Obvious Correct Answers that if you select them, pass the standardized test and etc etc mean you are now Educated. So if there's a machine that can theoretically pick the correct answers for you by recombining existing data without the hard part of going through and individually assessing and compiling it yourself, Win!

... but of course, that's not the way it works at all, because AI is shown to create misleading, nonsensical, or flat-out dangerously incorrect information in every field it's applied to, and the errors are spotted as soon as an actual human subject expert takes the time to read it closely. Not to go completely KIDS THESE DAYS ARE JUST LAZY AND DONT WANT TO WORK, since finding a clever way to cheat on your schoolwork is one of those human instincts likewise old as time and has evolved according to tools, technology, and educational philosophy just like everything else, but I think there's an especial fear of Being Wrong that drives the recourse to AI (and this is likewise a result of an educational system that only prioritizes passing standardized tests as the sole measure of competence). It's hard to sort through competing sources and form a judgment and write it up in a comprehensive way, and if you do it wrong, you might get a Bad Grade! (The irony being, of course, that AI will *not* get you a good grade and will be marked even lower if your teachers catch it, which they will, whether by recognizing that it's nonsense or running it through a software platform like Turnitin, which is adding AI detection tools to its usual plagiarism checkers.)

We obviously see this mindset on social media, where Being Wrong can get you dogpiled and/or excluded from your peer groups, so it's even more important in the minds of anxious undergrads that they aren't Wrong. But yeah, AI produces nonsense, it is an open waste of your tuition dollars that are supposed to help you develop these independent college-level analytical and critical thinking skills that are very different from just checking exam boxes, and relying on it is not going to help anyone build those skills in the long term (and is frankly a big reason that we're in this mess with an entire generation being raised with zero critical thinking skills at the exact moment it's more crucial than ever that they have them). I am mildly hopeful that the AI craze will go bust just like crypto as soon as the main platforms either run out of startup funding or get sued into oblivion for plagiarism, but frankly, not soon enough, there will be some replacement for it, and that doesn't mean we will stop having to deal with fake news and fake information generated by a machine and/or people who can't be arsed to actually learn the skills and abilities they are paying good money to acquire. Which doesn't make sense to me, but hey.

So: Yes. This. I feel you and you have my deepest sympathies. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to sit on the porch in my quilt-draped rocking chair and shout at kids to get off my lawn.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 A Song in the Depths: Chapter One

A Song in the Depths: While staying with your grandmother in the coastal town of Dreaming, you grow curious about a summer solstice festival the town celebrates.

Warnings: None.

To Note: Dark!Siren!Dream x NAMEDFemReader, I like giving names, bite me.

Word Count: ~3.4k

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Your grandmother's invitation to spend the summer in the old town of Dreaming between college semesters didn't exactly fill you with excitement. After all, it meant leaving behind your friends and all the fun they were sure to have on break. But as she was getting older, you couldn't say no. Plus, the promise of being near the ocean provided some consolation.

With a heavy sigh, you packed your belongings and said goodbye to your parents' house. Boarding the train to Dreaming, you struggled to adjust your overstuffed backpack as you searched for a seat near the window. The whistle blew and the train lurched forward, pulling away from the station. As you settled in for the journey, your ears caught snippets of conversation from two women sitting nearby. They were whispering about missing tourists in Dreaming, their voices filled with fear.

As if drawn to the gossip, you lean in closer, unable to resist the urge to eavesdrop. One of the women leans in closer to her companion, wide-eyed and trembling as she spoke.

"They say every summer solstice, someone vanishes without a trace," she says. "Some people think it's a vengeful spirit, others think it's just nonsense."

You roll your eyes and turn back to the window, fixating on the passing landscape to distract yourself from their superstitious talk. It was just another story blown out of proportion. Besides, your grandmother had lived in Dreaming for years without any trouble.

The train eventually pulls into the small station of Dreaming, bathed in a warm golden glow from the setting sun. Your petite grandmother stands proudly on the platform, waving excitedly as you step off the train.

"Noelle, my darling! Welcome to Dreaming!" she exclaims, pulling you into a tight hug.

You can't help but smile at her genuine joy and follow her to her cottage by the sea. Perched on a cliff overlooking the beach, its whitewashed walls and thatched roof gleaming in the evening light, it's a picture-perfect sight. The scent of salt and seaweed fills the air as you take in the breathtaking view of the ocean.

"Isn't it beautiful?" your grandmother asks, her eyes sparkling with pride.

"It's amazing, Grandma," you reply, truly entranced by the sight. The view was absolutely incredible.

The sun slowly dips below the horizon, casting the sky in shades of pink and orange, while you help your grandmother carry your luggage into the cozy cottage. Antiques fill every nook and cranny, each one holding a story within its worn edges. Stories from your childhood and even further past.

"I've prepared your room upstairs," your grandmother says, gesturing to a narrow staircase. "You should get settled in before dinner."

Thanking her, you climb the creaky stairs and enter the small, simply furnished room. A soft white quilt adorns the bed, and a vintage-style dresser stands against one wall. Through a small window overlooking the ocean, a peaceful glow spills into the room.

As you settle into your new surroundings, your mind can't help but wander to the whispers you overheard on the train. You brush them off as mere superstition, but a nagging feeling lingers in the back of your mind. You try to shake it off and focus on the present, but the unease persists.

Determined to push aside your concerns and enjoy your stay, you unpack your belongings and hang your clothes in the old wooden wardrobe. While you fold your jeans and t-shirts, you can't help but notice a faint, musty smell emanating from the wardrobe. Your grandmother didn’t get many visitors, you should try to visit more often while you can.

Just as you're about to close the wardrobe door, a small, worn book tumbles out from the bottom shelf. Curious, you pick it up and examine the cover. It's a journal, its pages yellowed with age. Intrigued, you flip through the pages, reading entries dated years ago. The handwriting is elegant but barely legible.

As you read, you realize the journal belonged to your grandmother. It chronicles her life in Dreaming, including her first days in the cottage by the sea. You smile at the thought of your grandmother as a young woman, full of hopes and dreams.

You read further into your grandmother's journal, learning more about her life in Dreaming. Your smile grows as she describes her first days in the cottage by the sea, filled with wonder and excitement. She writes about her early friendships and the tight-knit community that welcomed her with open arms.

One entry, dated several years after her arrival in Dreaming, stands out to you. In elegant handwriting, she describes meeting a young fisherman named Samuel. His bright blue eyes and warm smile had captured her heart from the moment they met. Over the following pages, she recounts their blossoming romance, filled with long walks on the beach and cozy evenings by the fire.

Your heart aches with happiness as you read about their love story and how they eventually married in a small ceremony by the sea. Oh to have a love like that…Your grandmother's words paint a vivid picture of their life together, filled with love, laughter, and the joy of raising a family.

As you continue reading, you notice a shift in your grandmother's tone. The entries become more somber, tinged with sadness and fear. It's around this time that she first mentions the disappearances. People she knew and loved, vanishing without a trace during the summer solstice.

Your blood runs cold as you read her words, remembering the whispers you overheard on the train. You can't help but feel a shiver of dread creeping up your spine as you realize that these disappearances have been happening since before your grandmother was  even born! It's as if the town of Dreaming itself is cursed.

Your grandmother's entries go on to describe the town's efforts to uncover the truth behind the vanishings, but every lead seemed to turn up empty. The fear and uncertainty weighed heavily on the community, leaving them with a lingering sense of unease that never quite went away.

As you close the journal, your thoughts swirl with the stories of your grandmother's past. The joy and love she found in Dreaming were undeniable, but the darkness that seemed to lurk beneath the town's surface was impossible to ignore.

A sudden gust of wind rattles the window, breaking your train of thought. You look up, feeling a sense of foreboding settling over you. The sky outside has turned a deep shade of purple, and the ocean looks angry and unsettled. A sharp knock on the door startles you, and you quickly stuff the journal back into the wardrobe. "Noelle, dear, dinner's ready," your grandmother calls.

"I'll be right there," you call back, your thoughts swiftly moving from the mysterious journal to the awaiting meal.

Dinner is a simple affair, with your grandmother serving up a hearty meal of fresh seafood and vegetables. The aroma fills the cozy kitchen, and you find yourself eagerly anticipating the first bite of her cooking. As you take your seat at the small wooden table, you can't help but smile at the familiarity of it all. The warmth of your grandmother's cooking brings back memories of your childhood, when you would spend summers here, exploring the island and indulging in her delicious meals. Odd that it had never been during the summer solstice…

You watch as she moves gracefully around the kitchen, her hands deftly preparing the food with a practiced ease that comes from years of experience. The love and care she puts into her cooking are evident in every bite, and you can't help but feel thankful to have been raised with such love.

As you enjoy the meal, you reflect on the idea of staying home instead of coming here. Would you really have been content to spend your entire break doom scrolling through social media or watching mindless TV shows? No, you realize, this trip was exactly what you needed. A chance to reconnect with your roots, to appreciate the simple pleasures in life, and to create new memories with your grandmother while you still have her.

With each bite, you savor the flavors and the company, knowing that this is precisely where you're meant to be. You cancel it in your bones. The whispers and unease from earlier seem to fade away, replaced by a sense of comfort and old memories.

After a satisfying dinner, you offer to help your grandmother clean up. She accepts your help with a disgruntled look since you were a guest, but allows you to aid in washing dishes and putting away leftovers. As you finish up, your grandmother looks at you with a slight frown.

"Noelle, darling, I know you're eager to explore the town, but please be careful," she says, her voice tinged with concern. "It's not safe to wander around after dark, especially near the beach. I never told you much about Dreaming when you were younger but you must know, there have been... strange occurrences."

Her words echo the whispers you overheard on the train. However, the allure of the ocean is too strong to resist, and you find yourself drawn to the beach regardless of the warnings.

"I'll be fine, Grandma," you reassure her with a smile. "I won't be gone long."

She nods, her expression a mix of worry and understanding. "Alright, but don't stay out too late. And try to avoid the water, okay?"

With that reassurance, you leave the cottage and  make your way down the winding path that leads from the cottage to the beach below. The sun has already dipped below the horizon, leaving a painted sky of lingering pinks and oranges in its wake. The ocean, now shrouded in darkness, murmurs softly as it kisses the shoreline.

When you reach the sand, you kick off your shoes and feel the cool grains between your toes. The sea breeze tousles your hair, and you close your eyes, taking a deep breath to savor the salty air. It's so peaceful here, so far removed from the noise and chaos of the city you left behind. Maybe next time you will invite your friends to come!

You walk along the edge of the water, allowing the gentle waves to lap at your feet. The ocean seems to call to you, its mysterious depths holding secrets you can only imagine. Despite your grandmother's warnings, you find yourself drawn to its allure, unable to resist the urge to explore further. How dangerous could it be to just dip your toes into the water? You continue down the beach, your steps slow and deliberate as you take in the surroundings. The moon casts a glow on the water, and you can't help but soak in the sight with a sated sigh.

Rounding a bend, you spot a small, rocky outcropping jutting out into the sea. Curiosity piqued from faint memories of playing on it as a child, you make your way towards it. The further you venture, the more the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks drowns out the soft whispers of the sea. You climb onto the rocks, careful not to slip on the wet, moss-covered surface. From here, you have a perfect view of the ocean stretching out before you, its vastness both humbling and exhilarating. Oftentimes you forgot how big the ocean is.

Leaning back against the rock, you take a moment to soak in the experience, the cool night air sending chills dancing across your skin. The warnings your grandmother gave you earlier echo in your mind, but you can't help but feel safe in this moment, surrounded by the tranquil beauty of the sea. You’d spent countless summers here, it was perfectly safe as long as you made sure to be aware of riptides.

You gaze out at the water, lost in thought, when you notice a splash of a tail flicking out of the water. You smile, thinking that it must have been a dolphin, or some other sea creature with a fin. But then you spot a head and long black hair.

A moment later, you see a tail seemingly connected to the figure. A man? Your mind struggles to process what you're seeing, and you blink a few times, rubbing your eyes to clear your vision. You tell yourself that it must be a trick of the moonlight or just your imagination running wild. He's gone, a figment of your imagination. Your exhaustion was getting to you.

“Time to go to sleep, Noelle, you are seeing things,” you mutter to yourself before removing yourself from the rock. You trudge back up the winding path to your grandmother's cottage, feeling unsettled. The sight of the mysterious figure swimming in the ocean lingers in your mind, making you question if you'd really seen what you thought you had. Who would be crazy this crazy to swim at this time of night?

Looking back at the top of the cliff, you squint your eyes, trying to make out the figure once more. There it is again, a male with long hair and what appears to be a tail. You blink, rubbing your eyes to make sure you're not hallucinating. But the figure is still there, swimming effortlessly through the water.

Feeling a chill run down your spine, you turn away from the sight and hurry up the path. You are hallucinating, Noelle, sleep deprivation is getting to you! The cottage comes into view, its warm lights inviting you in from the cool night air. Stepping inside, the pleasant scent of your grandmother's nighttime tea fills the air, immediately soothing your unsettled nerves.

"Noelle, dear, you're back!" your grandmother exclaims, bustling over to give you a hug. "I was starting to worry. Did you have a nice walk?"

You hesitate, unsure of how to respond. Should you tell her what you saw or brush it off as a figment of your imagination? Your tiredness certainly explained it… In the end, you decide to keep your concerns to yourself.

"Oh, it was lovely," you reply, forcing a smile. "The ocean is just breathtaking."

Your grandmother beams at you, her eyes twinkling with pride. "I'm so glad you're enjoying your time here, dear. Now, come it grows late and I am sure you are exhausted from all your travel! Off to bed with you!"

You are wandering through the quaint village the next day watching the townsfolk bustling about, preparing for the upcoming summer solstice festival. The air is filled with excitement and anticipation, yet there seems to be an undercurrent of hesitancy and unease. It’s been bugging you since the train so you finally decide to get some answers. You approach a group of villagers hanging decorations along the cobblestone streets.

"Excuse me," you say, smiling warmly. "I couldn't help but notice all the preparations for the festival. I've never celebrated the summer solstice before. Can you tell me more about it?"

The villagers exchange nervous glances, their smiles fading as they look back at you. A tall, wiry man with a bushy beard steps forward, his eyes darting around as if checking for eavesdroppers.

"Well, uh... it's a tradition we've celebrated for generations," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's a time for us to come together and give thanks to the sea for providing for us."

You nod, sensing their discomfort but unsure of its cause.

"That sounds lovely," you reply. "Are there any special customs or rituals that take place during the festival?"

The villagers exchange more nervous glances, their faces growing paler by the moment. The bearded man hesitates, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

"There are... some customs," he admits, his voice barely audible. "But they're, uh... we haven't practiced them in centuries. They're rather archaic… sacrifices and all…" Oh, yeah you can see them wanting to be hush hush about that kind of past.

"Sacrifices?" You question softly, "You wouldn't happen to know where those took place do you? I do so love history…"

The village elder reluctantly reveals the location of the ancient sacrifices before turning and getting back to work, making it clear that the were done talking. Despite your unease, you are intrigued by the historical significance of the site and decide to explore it for yourself. You’ve visited the coastal town long enough that you should learn more about it.

So you make your way through the streets of the village, following the elder's directions towards a hidden cove nestled between two cliffs. The path is overgrown with vegetation, and you have to push through dense branches to reach your destination. It is clear that this area is avoided.

Upon arriving at the cove, you are struck by its otherworldly beauty. The ocean water is a deep cerulean blue, gently lapping against the rocky shore. In the distance, you can see a large, flat rock jutting out from the water, its surface worn smooth by centuries of exposure to the elements.

When you approach the rock, you notice a lone figure standing atop it, his back turned towards you. His short, black hair is wild and unkempt, and he seems to be staring out at the horizon, lost in thought. The man doesn't seem to notice your presence, so you muster up the courage to clear your throat and speak.

"Excuse me," you say, "I couldn't help but notice you standing here. Are you... waiting for someone?"

The man startles at the sound of your voice, spinning around to face you. His eyes are an otherworldly shade of blue, reminding you of the deep ocean depths. For a moment, he just stares at you, his gaze intense and unnerving.

"No one in particular," he finally responds, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I was just... enjoying the view."

You nod, feeling a bit uncomfortable under his piercing gaze. There's something about him that strikes you as different, almost ethereal. Also familiar yet you had never met him. You can't quite place your finger on it, but you sense that he's not like the other villagers.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you," you say, taking a step back. "I was just exploring the cove and noticed this rock."

The man shakes his head, his smile growing wider. "No, no. It's quite all right. I was actually hoping someone would come along. It gets rather lonely standing here by myself."

You hesitate, unsure if you should trust this stranger. But something in his eyes makes you feel safe, as if he's someone you can trust. He is just a man and you’ve had some self defense training, what is the worst that will happen?

"My name is Noelle," you say, extending your hand. "I'm visiting my grandmother and don't know much about this place despite having visited for years.”

The man takes your hand, his grip firm yet gentle. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Noelle. I'm... Morpheus."

You smile, noting the peculiar name but deciding not to dwell on it. "So, do you come here often, Morpheus? I’ve noticed that the path is a bit overgrown and not used…”

He nods, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I do. There's something special about this place, don't you think? The way the ocean crashes against the rocks, the salty air... it's invigorating."

"I wish I knew more about places like this," You softly murmur, your eyes appreciating the nature. "I— I don't get the chance to get away from society much."

Morpheus chuckles softly, a melodic sound that seems to echo around the cove. “I understand, it's in the quiet corners of the world that we find the most intriguing stories. The secrets of the past are buried in places like this, waiting to be discovered by those brave enough to seek them out."

Your curiosity piqued, you lean in closer to Morpheus, eager to hear more. His words seem to cast a spell over you, filling your mind with images of forgotten civilizations and ancient mysteries. A thought flickers into your mind.

“Will you be attending the solstice festival?” You inquire, a glint of curiosity in your eyes. "I've heard whispers about it from the villagers, but they seemed hesitant to discuss the details. Or tell me anything about it for that matter… Do you know anything about the festival and its significance? Is it dangerous?"

“Only if you are not a strong swimmer,” Morpheus replies with a charming smile. “Part of the ritual is to swim in the ocean, I could show you how its done tomorrow night if you so wish.” Oh you wish alright.

“You would do that for me?” You question, your heart racing in your chest as your eyes glimmer with excitement. Morpheus was a native to Dreaming, surely he would know all about the summer solstice and put to rest the silly rumors and stories you had been told. What’s more, you’d learn the ritual from a native first hand!

Morpheus nods, his eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light. "I would be honored to guide you through the summer solstice ritual, Noelle. It's a tradition that has been passed down for generations in Dreaming, and I believe you will find it... enlightening."

Excitement and anticipation fills the air as you ask Morpheus about learning from him, your questions spilling from your lips once after the other.

"Meet me at the cove tomorrow night," he says, his voice confident and assured. "Just before midnight, when the moon is near its peak in the sky. That's when we'll begin our ritual." The thought of learning from a native under the light of the full moon fill you with excitement, you have nothing to fear. Your grandmother would have nothing to worry about!

“Just before midnight,” You repeat, your heart racing in excitement.

Date Published: 6/26/24

Last Edit: 6/25/24

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[vodika-vibes]

Nimble Fingers

Summary: You've never been a crafty person...but Jesse makes you want to try.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Jesse x F!Reader

Word Count: 2019

Warnings: Fluff

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I had Jesse ping-ponging around my brain, so I had to write him before I can write anyone else. Sorry.

You stare at the lumpy, misshapen thing in your hands, and you sigh, “Nana, I don’t think I’m going to be able to do this.” You finally admit.

The older woman hurries over to you, the scent of cinnamon and vanilla following her into your space. She takes the thing (it’s supposed to be a sweater) out of your hands and looks at it through critical eyes, “It’s not…terrible, sweetie.”

“Nana.”

“You’re new at this, baby. You can’t expect it to be perfect on your first try.”

“I…” You sigh, “I know, Nana. I do. But-”

“-but you want it to be perfect for your boy?” Your Nana asks with a sly smile.

Your face heats and you drop your gaze, “Maybe I’m just not made for crafts-?”

“Nonsense. Everyone can create.” She says briskly, before she tosses the misshapen sweater into the pile of half finished projects, “But, perhaps we should have started with something easier.”

You cross your legs on the chair and wait for her to finish her thought.

“Let’s try quilting!”

“...isn’t that harder?” You ask dryly, “On account of the fact that I don’t know how to sew?”

“Nonsense, that’s what sewing machines are for! On your feet, my little Orange Blossom!” For such a tiny woman, she’s remarkably strong as she’s able to leverage you out of your seat and drag you from the living room and into her quilting room.

The Quilting Room is filled with just about every type of fabric that you can imagine, and several that you’ve never once considered. And there are dozens of quilts in bags to be delivered to the people who ordered them. And there’s one sitting on a drying rack.

“This is new, nana.” You note as you eye the pale yellow and green blanket.

“Oh, yes. Your brother asked me to make a blanket for the baby.” She moves some crates out of the way, “Here you go, darling. Have a seat.”

Obediently, you slide into the chair, and look at the sewing machine, suddenly feeling a lot younger than your almost 25 years, “Nana-”

“Hush, I’m going to teach you how to use it. First we have to plan what we’re sewing.” She pauses and glances at your slightly overwhelmed face, and she laughs, “Okay, how about we take a step back, and just pick on colors and a pattern for a blanket, hm?”

“Well…blue and white for the colors,” You say, thinking about Jesse’s armor colors, “And I don’t know about patterns-?”

“We’ll do something very basic then-” She mumbles as she scurries around the room. Your nana returns with an armful of cloth and a box of supplies, “Alright. So, quilting-” And she starts to lecture you on how to quilt.

10 minutes in, your eyes are wide and slightly panicked, and you turn your frantic gaze to your grandfather, who’s been listening for about five minutes.

“You’re overwhelming the girl, Jyll.” Your grandfather scolds.

“Honestly, this is really basic-” She huffs.

“Basic for you, perhaps. But she’s not done this before.” Your grandfather lightly claps your shoulder, “Come with me, girlie.” 

You scramble to your feet after him, and he leads you through the house to his own workroom, which smells like different types of woods. Your grandfather is a woodworker, though now he doesn’t make as much furniture as he used to, preferring to make vanity pieces now.

“Now, you want to make a present for that nice young man you introduced to us at dinner last week, right?” He asks as he settles in his chair with a groan, “Jesse, is his name, right?”

“Yeah.” You turn your gaze away from a carved tooka that looks like it’s going to spring to life and jump at you, “He doesn’t have things, and I just want to give him something-” You sigh, “That sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

He kicks a stool over to you, and you sink onto it.

“Not at all.” He smiles at you, “Your nana made me a blanket when we first started dating all those years ago, and I still have it. It was my most cherished possession…right up until she gave me your mother and uncle.”

You smile at him, “That’s sweet.”

“It is.” He agrees, “And, unless I’m greatly overestimating your boy, I think he’ll be happy with anything you give him, especially if you make it.”

“But, that’s the thing.” You say, “I can’t make things!”

“You think he’ll treasure it any less because it’s a little lumpy or misshapen?” Your grandfather asks with an arched brow, and your argument dies on your tongue.

Because he’s right, of course. He generally is.

“How about we carve something for your boy. Something he can wear around his neck maybe.” He strokes his beard for a moment, “Come over here, lass. Let’s find a good wood for this.”

It’s been two weeks since the day you finished the simple wooden ring with your grandfather. You carved the whole thing yourself, under his supervision, and then left it with him so he can treat it and find a cord for it to hang from.

But it’s finally done.

You used a pale colored wood, and carefully (but clumsily) carved your name and Jesse’s inside the band, while the outside is covered in vines. And the ring itself is hanging from a leather cord.

It’s not perfect. There are some obvious mistakes to the carvings, but your grandfather swore up and down that Jesse will love it, mistakes and all.

So here you are, waiting for Jesse in your apartment, with the small box holding his present on the table next to you, and dinner finishing up on the stove.

The box is something your grandfather made, claiming that all men need a good box to store their valuables in, and no amount of talking would convince him that Jesse doesn’t have any valuables. There’s also another smaller box inside the box, though your grandparents refused to tell you what was in it, claiming that it’s a present for Jesse and that you’re not allowed to look.

You learned a long time ago that your grandparents will do whatever they want, so you didn’t push too hard.

The familiar sound of your door code being entered reaches your ears, and you step into the hallway just as the door slides open. Jesse looks exhausted, but all of the exhaustion drains away when he sees you standing there.

“Cyare!”

You grin at him, “Welcome back,”

Jesse sets his helmet down on the shelf next to the door, and then he holds his arms out so you can throw yourself into them. “I missed you,” He says warmly as he folds you into a tight hug.

“You saw me this morning,”

“I know, a whole 12 hours without being able to see you, it’s practically torture.” Jesse says dramatically, before he pulls away and kisses the tip of your nose, “How was your day?”

“It wasn’t bad. I saw Nana and Grandpa today. They missed you at lunch.”

“I’m sorry I had to dip out on them,” Jesse says, releasing you so he’s able to remove his armor, “I talked to Rex, and barring a surprise deployment, I might be able to make it next week.”

“They’ll be thrilled.” You reply, “Mona is close to popping, and they want you there to meet the baby. I think my sister-in-law likes you more than me.” You add with a laugh.

“Now, I know that isn’t true.” Jesse says easily as he finishes pulling his armor off and rolls his shoulders, “Dinner smells amazing, what are you making?”

“Oh, I’m just warming up some of the stew Nana made for lunch. It’ll be a little bit before it’s done if you want to change?”

“Hm. Might not be a bad idea,” He rolls his head, “I’m going to grab a shower too,” Jesse glances at you and flashes a mischievous smile, “Wanna join?”

“Only if you want dinner to burn,” You counter, before you step closer to him and stand on your toes to kiss him, “I have a surprise for you when you’re done.”

“Oh?”

“Go shower, it’ll hold.”

“Yes ma’am,” Jesse kisses you three times in quick succession, before he steps around you and heads to the bedroom. You wait until you hear the water turn on, before you step back into the kitchen.

You glance at the stew, and try to smother your nerves, but finally it gets the better of you, and you open the box to pull out the ring you carved him. It’d be better if you gave it to him personally anyway.

You curl your hand around the ring, and move back to the stove to make sure that the dinner won’t burn.

Jesse emerges from the bedroom less than ten minutes later, and he immediately slides his arms around your waist and kisses the side of your neck. 

“Feel better?”

“Much.” Jesse presses another kiss to your neck, and then he turns your head to kiss you properly, “Your shower does wonders in working out my muscle soreness.”

You laugh, “That is why I bought it.” You glance at him with a broad grin on your face, “If you’re nice, maybe I’ll give you a massage tonight.”

“I can be nice.” Jesse says immediately.

You just grin at his predictable answer, and then you nod towards the table, “Everything in the box is for you. Including the box.”

Jesse glances at the table and releases you, allowing you to turn and join him at that table. He curiously runs his fingers over the fine wooden box, “He carved a star map into the box.” Jesse says, sounding surprised, “Leading back to…huh…”

You tilt your head curiously and Jesse flashes an amused smile, “It’s more than a star map. It’s a road map back to here. This apartment. In case I can’t find my way home, I guess.”

You laugh softly, “That sounds like him.”

He opens the box, and pulls out the other box with an amused quirk of his lips. Slowly he opens the box, and his jaw drops, “Babe, I can’t accept this-” He blurts.

“What is it?”

“Uh…well…” He turns the box towards you, revealing a very nice watch. Actually, it looks almost identical to the watch your brother got when he reached the age of majority. “This is too much-”

“Check the back of the watch,” You offer with a small smile.

Jesse eyes you suspiciously, but flips the watch and stares at the back of it silently for a moment. And when he speaks there’s something fragile in his voice, “Welcome to the family, Jesse. Love Nana and Pa.” He reads out, his voice slightly shaky. “Babe-”

“I didn’t know that they were going to do that,” You say quietly, “But I’m not surprised. My family loves you.” A smile lifts your lips, “Almost as much as I do.”

Jesse slides the watch around his wrist, and it fits perfectly, “I love it.” He admits quietly, “I don’t know how I’m going to thank them for this.”

“A simple thank you will be enough, Jesse. You’re family now, after all.” You pause and bite your lower lip, your gift really doesn’t compare to a watch, but you want to give it anyway. “I have a present for you too.”

He turns his gaze away from the watch and focuses his attention on you, “You do?”

“I…It’s not a watch,” You offer sheepishly, “And it’s not very well made, I’m not really crafty-” You trail off as you pull the ring from your pocket and hold it out to him. 

Jesse takes it from you, and slowly runs his fingers over it, “You made this?” He asks, his voice hushed.

“Yeah, I mean. Grandpa helped a lot. And it’s not perfect, and it you don’t like it-”

“I love it.” He interrupts a broad grin on his face, “Did you do the carvings too?”

“Um…yeah.” You admit, “they’re a little wonky-”

Jesse drapes the ring around his neck and slides his chair so he’s sitting right next to you, “I love it. I love you.”

Your face heats, “I just wanted to show you how much I love you-,” You admit.

You’re unable to finish your sentence as Jesse crashes his lips against yours, “I love it.” he repeats against your lips, “So much. Almost as much as I love you.”

You kiss him gently, “I love you too.”