#drum restoration

[sergioguymanproust]

There comes the time when we must face our own fears alone and head on, for many this is not easy because the darkness it will bring is too much to bear.The path that follows is filled with doubt and memories of betrayal and despair,shallowness and a soul burden with past lives guilt but important is to remember that it is all water under the bridge, and we mustn’t hold on to old grudges and pettiness.Finding such a place to be alone is out in nature where no signs of a so called civilized world exist.Nature has the power to heal you ,if you allow it so,nature will detox and take away your darkness and allow for the light to bathe you completely and make you realize the power within has always been there and that you could have call for its help. The desert can do that expose your spiritual awakening and swiftly rush you into a new life ,a new you.But you must allow it that’s the key ,stop hindering your progress ,stop creating obstacles,let go and surrender to the light.Let the energy flow through you ,and restore your spirit to the right frequency energy and vibration.Words by Sergio GuymanProust.

[shoplifting]

I am neverrr going to regret not being able to draw people more than right nowww. one piece animatic set to cough syrup by young the giant, the concept you are

[iamlisteningto]

Azrel’s Exstasis: Restored

[lvstrucks]

breaks

lando norris x reader

Being a couple both of whose love languages were physical touch, you and Lando were no strangers to a bit of playfighting. Lando loved nothing more than to tackle you onto the soft surface of a sofa or bed and watch you squirm playfully, collapsing into a fit of giggles as you tried to take control of his strong form and make him do what you wanted. It was perhaps the only time Lando would allow his competitive side to slide, letting you pin him down and sit on his toned stomach in victory.

So it was nothing out of the ordinary when he leaned against the doorframe, watching you pad around the kitchen making dinner in one of his Quadrant t-shirts he felt a familiar burst of love begin to creep up his abdomen. It was a quiet Friday night before the Monaco Grand Prix, the both of you enjoying the comfort of being in your own apartment before what was sure to be a hectic weekend.

As soon as you put down the wooden spoon you'd been using to stir the dinner, he makes a beeline for you.

"Lovie," he half mumbles, half laughs into your shoulder as he scoops you off the floor.

"Lando!" you giggle, making a feeble attempt to shrug him off. "Stop, I'm making dinner," you protest, while really having no intention of making him stop.

Lando twists you around so he's holding you horizontally, gripping onto your waist and starts to spin you around so you can't reach to push him off.

"You just look so cuddly and cute dressed like that," he defends, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "Just wanna love my girl a little."

You both shriek with laughter as he begins to spin you even faster. Lando's certain that hearing you laugh like that because of him is one of the best feelings he's ever had. He feels like he might be flying a little, until your left arm flicks out with the force of being spun and the sound of a crack against the marble counter stops him in his tracks.

"Baby?" He asks uncertainly as he sets you gently on your feet.

"Ow." you blink back tears. "That hurt. But I'm fi-"

You cut yourself off as your hearing becomes muffled.

"Lan, I can't..." you put both hands up to your ears, pressing as if to try and restore your hearing. It comes flooding back, along with a throbbing pain in your wrist as it pushes against your head.

"Fuck, baby. Fuck!" Lando says, snapping into action. Not only is his girlfriend clearly hurt, she got hurt under his care, and it was his fault too.

He grabs a bag of frozen peas from the freezer, pulling you gently over to a chair at the dining table and sitting you down. He hands you the bag of peas, gesturing for you to rest your hurt hand on it.

"Did it...always bend that way?" He asks quietly, face going pale as you both assess the situation. The tears begin to fall as the full brunt of the pain begins to hit and Lando is quick to lead you downstairs, getting you buckled into his car and running around to the driver's seat. 

It takes a little while longer than normal to get to the emergency room, as lots of roads have been closed off in preparation for qualifying tomorrow, and Lando drums his fingers impatiently on the wheel.

"Not long, baby. We're gonna get you some help, and they can give you something to help the pain, ok? I'm right here with you." He tries to reassure you.

Good as his word, Lando doesn't leave your side once. He holds your hand whilst they set your fractured wrist back into place, gritting his teeth and keeping quiet as your nails dig into the calloused skin of his hands. He rubs your back softly as they wrap a pink (as requested) cast around.

You sleep on the way home, suddenly exhausted now the pain meds have kicked in. Lando watches you quietly each time he stops at a red light. He feels sick to his stomach as the red glare catches the streaks of dried tears on your cheeks.

Once back in your apartment, Lando carries you bridal style up to the bedroom. He undresses you quickly, taking care not to bump your wrist as he pulls one of his shirts over your head, one of the softer ones that you love to sleep in.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles into your hair as he wraps himself around you. "I'm so, so, sorry."

You shake your head softly, waking up a little.

"I know you are, Lando. It was an accident."

"But I promised I'd never do anything to hurt you, and I broke it. I broke you." He frets.

You lean up and press a kiss to his pouty lips.

"It was an accident, both of us were being silly. I'm not upset at you, just upset it happened. So please don't beat yourself up about it, okay?" you say and Lando nods solemnly, snuggling down so your head is laying on his chest. He strokes your hair softly and you breathe in his scent, closing your eyes.

"Does it hurt? A lot?" Lando asks quietly into the darkness.

"No." you lie.

Although you'd assured Lando you were fine in the morning, ready to come and support him during qualifying, you were quickly deteriorating as the day dragged on. You found yourself sinking into a cushioned seat in the McLaren hospitality, beginning to shiver as the ache from your wrist travels up your arm. Lando is busy preparing for qualifying, but Adam is talking to an engineer and notices his son's girlfriend fading into herself and walks over to check on you.

"Everything ok?," he questions you. "Should I get Lando for you? He gave strict orders to interrupt him at any time if you weren't feeling well."

"I just need my next painkillers, I think." you say, trying to smile in a way you hope is reassuring. "Do you know where they ended up? I didn't bring a bag so Lando had them in his pocket when we arrived."

Adam tells you he will go and hunt down your meds, but unsurprisingly Lando spots his dad looking around and excuses himself from talking to Zak in the garage and jogs over to the hospitality.

"Baby, are you OK?" He asks, wrapping you in a gentle hug. You sigh, sinking into his chest and allowing him to hold you up.

"It's just..it's really starting to hurt now." you say, and his heart sinks at the sight of your bottom lip beginning to wobble.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he says truthfully. "Do you want to go home and take a nap there? I can get someone to drive you now."

You shake your head stubbornly.

"I want to stay and see how you qualify. I just need some pain meds."

"They're in my driver's room with my clothes." He explains. "Do you want to come with me? I have that fold-down bed in there now, you can have a quick nap?"

You nod, allowing him to lead you into his room. Once there, he hands you your meds and then slips his comfy cable-knit sweater over your head to stop your shivering. He does his best to tuck you in all comfy, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"I'll come and wake you up in about an hour or so, ok?"

As he shuts the door behind him, he hears a soft "Thank you, Lan." He blows you a kiss, heading back to the garage.

When Lando comes back to wake you up, he's met with a much happier looking Y/N. You sit up on the bed, kissing his cheek and stretching.

"Do you have a pen anywhere? Or do you know where I can find one?" You ask.

Lando frowns, but gestures that he'll be one minute as he slips into Oscar's driver’s room for a second, returning with a Sharpie and handing it to you.

"What's it for?" He asks. "Are you going to vandalize McLaren to get me back?"

You giggle, standing up from the bed.

"I'm heading over to Red Bull," you explain, as if that would make any sense to Lando. "I'm going to see if I can get Max Verstappen to sign my cast. Ooh, and maybe I'll look for Charles too after."

"What?!" Lando splutters. He can't believe his ears. "You want Max and Charles to sign your cast before your own boyfriend? I know they were your favorites before we met, but have I made no progress?"

You laugh, flopping into him and leaning against his legs.

"It's because I don't want to exploit you, baby. I'm going to enjoy their signatures and then maybe sell the cast on eBay once it's off."

Lando bursts out laughing at your explanation, eyes squeezing shut as he holds you tight.

"My little businesswoman. Can I please be the first to sign it?" He asks.

You hand him the Sharpie, holding out your wrist to him. He takes it ever so gently and his tongue peeks out his mouth as he concentrates.

Twisting your arm around to read it, you grin as Lando looks proud of his work. Instead of signing as he would sign a hat or shirt for a fan, he's simply printed his name, followed by a collection of kisses and one wonky love heart. He lightly kisses your exposed fingers, then pats you cheekily on the bum as you pass him.

"Go get your signatures, baby."

thank you for reading! feedback is always appreciated <3

[kayleigh-83]

Hobbies and sub-hobbies

I've been working on implementing a sub-hobby system in my game recently and really enjoying it! I took a look at the different activities available for different hobbies and came up with my list, which I thought I'd share here.

I do have some mods that change the hobby enthusiasm of some objects, or add new ones - I'll link where applicable.

I don't assign these based on any system, just vibes. I usually stick with whatever hobby the game assigns, but I do sometimes change them if it really feels like it doesn't fit to me. The sub-hobbies are intended to be a main focus, but Sims can and will still try other aspects of their overall hobby, and other hobbies altogether sometimes too!

The list is a work in progress but I'm basically happy with it now.

Edited: I found a version of the punching bag that gives fitness enthusiasm instead of sports, and that activity makes more sense to me as a fitness thing, so I moved that sub-hobby over.

Edited x2: Combined a couple gaming subhobbies into "Social Games" and added MyShuno to that category.

Cuisine

Cooking

Baking

Wine & Cocktails

Foodie (restaurants, delivery)

Films & Literature

Reading

Writing (helpful but not necessary to also have this mod)

Movies

Tinkering

Restoring & Repairing (restorable car, general repairs, plus drafting blueprints thanks to a mod)

Woodworking (here and here)

Tinker Toys (RC cars, model trains, toy workbench)

Sports

Soccer

Basketball

Sports Fan (watching sports)

Golf (Execuputter reward object made buyable)

Baseball

Football

Music & Dance

Dancing

Ballet

Piano/Keyboard

Synthesizer

Violin

Singing

Guitar

Bass

Drums

Fitness

Swimming

Lifting & Cardio

Yoga

Boxing (with modded hanging bag from here - unlocked buyable punching bag still gives sports hobby, but it seems more like a fitness thing to me as a solo activity)

Arts & Crafts

Painting

Pottery

Sewing

Photography (hugely aided by the buyable antique camera and Epi and PF's camera overhaul mod)

Knitting (Eisbaer's edit of TonyVeis' 4t2 mod)

Science

Stargazing/Aliens

Biotech (buyable Biotech station and microscopes with science enthusiasm added)

Robotics (this mod makes robotics science related which makes far more sense to me)

Games

Video Games (console, handheld, computer, arcade games)

Board Games (chess, Don't Wake the Llama, mahjong)

Social Games (darts, poker, pool, bowling, MyShuno)

Nature

Entomology (hunting bugs, catching fireflies and butterflies)

Animals (small pets like womrats, birds, koi fish, bird watching)

Gardening (harvestable crops, orchard trees - I play with perfect plants mod so they don't have to maintain flowers and shrubs)

Outdoorsy (fishing, hiking, camping, cloud watching)

Flower Arranging (this mod changes the enthusiasm on the flower bench to nature)

[lavandulawrites]

The Wine Connoisseur

Yandere Mori x reader

Masterlist

Warnings: imprisonment, manipulation, slight mention of murder, Elise is Mori’s daughter

Word count: 716

Mori was a peculiar man. His love for the city admirable. He was cruel and calculated. His predictions never wrong. He never shied away from violence, but rather welcomed it. He valued ambition and loyalty. His daughter, (who you came to know after awhile where his ability, an extension of himself) was spoiled to the brim.

It had surprised you when you had asked him what he would do if he wasn’t the boss of the Port Mafia and he answered you truthfully. It might have been the expensive wine you both had in your system or the intimacy of you two, you didn’t know. He had looked at you with such earnest and gentleness “If I wasn’t the boss of the Port Mafia, I would have opened up an orphanage”. You had only looked at him in shock. To imagine the cold and calculated man could have a so tender wish like that m, almost seemed surreal.

You could never fully understand Mori and he never gave you the chance. He was an imposing figure who captured the eyes of everyone whenever he entered a room. He was undoubtedly a handsome man. His charismatic smile swooning woman and men alike. It wasn’t a secret that the woman of the Port Mafia all had a little crush on him.

When you first met him was at a wine conference. You and many others were completely unaware that the notorious Mafia was amongst the quest.

The black haired man was clad in a expensive black dress with dark crimson details which matched his eyes perfectly. He had eyed you all night long and finally approached you after he was down with his business. Even his gait was striking.

“Enjoying yourself?” his voice deep and smooth. In his was a wine glass filled with deep red liquid. He gently swished the wine and took a sip.

You two talked all night long about all and nothing. At the time you were completely unaware of his true identity.

Weeks past and you two became close friends, but you still felt that you didn’t know him. When you asked about his occupation he said he was a doctor. When you thought back on it, he had indeed been truthful. At least to a certain extent.

You threw your head back and glanced up at the ceiling rose. You were so lost on your thoughts that you didn’t notice the man behind you. Your eyes wandered to the person behind the couch. With your position everything was upside down. Mori smiled and chuckled at your position.

“I see that you like the new ceiling” he chuckled. “I am glad the restoration of this penthouse paid off”. He discarded his red scarf and took a seat beside you. He loosened his tie. It has been a gift from you before all this.

You sighed as you removed your gaze from him. “I still don’t understand why you go to such lengths. No matter how much money you spend on me, I won’t change my mind”. You change your position so you were more upright. “I still want to leave. I want to experience the world, not being locked up here like some damsel in distress” your eyes narrowed.

His lips curled up into a smirk. He hummed as his fingers drummed on the backrest. “You don’t know what you are talking about. What is it to explore? Nothing. It’s absolutely nothing. You have everything you need here and more. And regarding your desire to leave…” he moved closer to you “Believe me when I say I will change your mind. It’s only a matter of time. The human mind is rather fragile”. He filled the two wine glasses that stood on the coffee table with the wine he had brought with him and gave you one of them. He raised his glass. “To our future and our relationship” he clinked his galas against yours.

The wine rich and tasted awfully similar. Your eyes went to the bottle that laid in its silver ice bucket. It was the same wine you both shared at the conference all those months ago. Suddenly the sweet wine tasted as bitter as the bile taht had rose up your throat at the sight of your slaughter friends.

[fadingdaggerr]

Hey, I have just read heaven’s gate ( Larissa weems x reader ) and absolutely loved it! Is there any chance for a part two? Thank you x

pearlescent (18+ minors, dni)

pairing: larissa weems x gn!reader

summary: part two of heaven’s gate | 4.5k

includes: lesbians too in love for their own good, fluff

warnings: kissing/making out, sexual innuendo, afab reader (no breasts described for r), smut (fingering (L/r), oral (L), thigh riding (L)) can u tell i like eating pussy

note: first non-melissa post in over a year to bring me back from hiatus. thank u for ur patience. i feel like those wattpad writers that are like “just got out of a coma here’s a fic”

The smooth paving of the highway becomes bumpy and uneven as you pass the final gas station between here and your destination. Every pothole the car jumps over is like a shot of espresso through your aching joints. After the last stop, you promised yourself to drive straight through. Another stop would mean another chance to acknowledge the numbing of your ass after five hours in the car, and with one hour left, you’re not risking it. You really weren’t kidding when you said that teleportation would be much more useful.

Cell service is quickly obsolete as you continue through the woods, scanning the road for any squirrels that may decide that today was the day. Drumming against the steering wheel, you let your mind wander. Maybe coming without telling her is a bad idea, but it also has the potential not to be. She had begged you to drive to her just two days after she left, and you would have, if only your client hadn’t walked in the door. Dueling busy schedules made two months pass like molasses, longing to drop everything and hitchhike if you had to. Would the lack of alerting her put her off? Gods, you hope not.

A sudden shift of turbulent driving to a slight jostle of cobblestone removes you from the swirling doubt in your mind, peeking towards the sign you’re approaching. Green and rusting, white lettering reads: Welcome to Jericho! The Salem of Vermont. You find yourself glad someone took the time to graffiti over the last bit.

Ignoring the anxiety climbing your spine, you keep going, and going, and going, and going, until you finally break through the treeline. Out of nowhere sits the cutest town you think you’ve ever seen, with little brick shops with murals and a gazebo with the remains of New Year’s decor still hanging on. It makes sense why people would want to come here, why she would choose to stay.

In an attempt to not draw more attention than an outsider already gets, let alone an outcast one, you don’t linger on viewing the quaint town of Jericho. There’s better views awaiting you later, at the very castle-like building you can see on the high hill. Looming in a shadow, one that doesn’t extend over the rest of the town, sits Nevermore in all its glory. The corners of your lips turn up into a small smile, the view is nostalgic, bringing back the memories of your time at Byron’s.

The memory brings a reminder to the forefront of your mind, and with cell service restored, now is the best time. Carefully, and without taking your eyes off the road, you navigate to your favorite contacts.

“Hello, my angel!”

You chuckle, “it’s just me.”

“Fuck, nevermind then,” Parker grumbles, “so you’re not there yet?”

“I’m pulling up in a second, just wanted to let you know now before I can’t.”

A characteristic cackle comes from the other end, “gonna jump her bones immediately, I see, I see. Can’t say I blame you, she makes me question things about myself.”

“This is exactly why I called you before getting here,” you chuckle, pulling through the front gates, “but I gotta go now.”

“Yes, yes, go get slutted out, harlot. Just please call me sometime, so I can talk with the love of our lives,” Parker begs.

“I’m telling Max you said that,” you deadpan, hanging up just as you hear a rushed wait!

—☽—

For a town so small minded, from what you’ve been told, you’re more than surprised to find that you are able to walk into Nevermore unnoticed. Some students stand around, talking amongst themselves, but none seem to pay you any mind, likely thinking you’re just another teacher. Using the anonymity to your advantage, you slow your pace, listening in carefully. A gorgon walks by you, the only student at this time that seems to be carrying any school supplies.

You mentally scold yourself for stereotyping her studious behavior before you focus in on her mind. Your consciousness runs through hers, searching through test anxieties and hockey tryout concerns, until you find what you need. The literature wing, I could’ve guessed that. Coming back into your own mind, you’re already speeding up the stairs before your pupils return to their normal size.

Passing another student two stories up, you pray the siren knows which office you need, yet they don’t. Neither do the werewolves or the seer. Do you guys even go to classes? You’re about to give up on the full surprise, headache seeping in from all the mindreading of anxious teenagers. Just before you exit the hallway entirely, you actually look up from your feet, and you mentally smack yourself upside the head for not just reading the plaques on the doors.

With a renewed pep in your step, you keep just shy of running as you read every door. Finally, you reach a door that has a newer plaque compared to neighboring ones, serif font unscathed by age. Professor L. Weems, Department of Literature. Your heart skips a beat at the mere sight of her name. Noticing the door being cracked open, you push it open slightly more, hoping your search ends here.

Hunched over an antique desk, red-framed glasses perched on her nose with a pen spinning between her fingers, she doesn’t seem to notice the attention on her. It’s hard to pry yourself away from watching her, when holding her is seemingly moments away. Pushing the door the rest of the way open, you knock on the doorway with shaking knuckles.

A huff passes scarlet lips as Larissa peers up, a brief, disinterested gaze passing over her features. The pen in her hand stills, falling to the desk with a small clatter. Blue eyes widen as she stares unwaveringly at you. Fidgeting under her gaze, you smile nervously, “was- uh- was looking for professor Weems? Know her, by any chance?”

In no less than a blink, Larissa is rounding her desk at top speeds, crashing into your body as her arms wrap around your neck. Nearly falling into the hall, you just barely keep the two of you up, leaning into her to walk her backwards. One hand grips her waist as the other blindly reaches for the door to shut it, quickly coming back to bury into her hair. Your face tucks into her neck, brushing your nose against her skin, breathing her in.

“You’re here,” Larissa says quietly, disbelieving.

“I’m here,” you mumble against her warm skin, “couldn’t wait any longer.”

A sigh of relief passes plush lips, “and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Surprise, it’s a noun,” you joke, pressing a soft kiss to the expanse of her neck, relishing in the way she shudders at the contact. There’s no reply except for her arms tightening around you, wordlessly telling you that this surprise is one she likes.

Pulling back from you suddenly, Larissa just stares at you, blue eyes taking in every feature, lingering on your lips before flicking back to your eyes. Your hand moves from her waist to cup her cheek, stroking soft skin that you’d been longing to touch. She takes the invitation, leaning forward to press delicate lips against your own, slow and savoring. Your tongue traces her lips, tasting earl grey and lipstick as she lets you in. No struggle or search for dominance, simply a familiar dance you’d both dearly missed. The hand in her hair stays in place, keeping her close as the other traces her cheekbone and jaw, memorizing the feeling of her skin. Every piece of you missed her, and all of those pieces felt healed the moment her lips touched yours.

Pulling away slowly, both of you keep your eyes closed, simply existing in this moment. It takes a while for either of you to move away, but you feel giddy seeing Larissa’s pink cheeks and smudged lipstick. Your thumb drifts to her lips, wiping away the mess you’ve made, ignoring that you are likely equally covered. Soft lips press into the pad of your thumb, gentle and sweet.

“I cannot believe you’re here,” she whispers into the small space between you, “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you,” you reply at the same volume.

It takes two hours for the halls of Nevermore to empty, students retreating to their rooms or to the quad, finally allowing a chance for the two of you to leave Larissa’s office. Silence seems to come over the school, however frightening it may be when dealing with teenagers, though neither of you mind as you simply exist in the spacious office. After weeks of phone calls that lasted most of the night, quiet amazingly comes easy.

Only a soft hum from the blonde breaks the silence, twisting her wrist to check her watch. Turning towards you slightly, she keeps a soft volume as she speaks, “how would you like a tour?”

“That sounds perfect, I only got to see the foyer and this hall,” you answer, nudging into her shoulder softly. “Was on a mission, I didn’t really get a chance to explore.”

“Sorry about that, but we’re not supposed to have visitors here,” she explains, “the campus has essentially been on lockdown since the nineties.”

You chuckle, reaching a hand out to draw her in. Her fingers slide across your palm before gripping, letting you tug her closer, “in that case, security might be too lax. I got in no problem.”

“You what?” Larissa stiffens, looking at you bewildered.

“I drove right through the gate, walked right in, no one even noticed me,” you chuckle, “just walked on up.”

Her lips purse as she tries to hide the laugh building in her chest, leaning in more, “you read a child’s mind to find me, didn’t you?”

It’s impossible to hide the wry grin on your face, “potentially.”

“Potentially,” she mimics, amused.

—☽—

Nevermore has officially put Byron’s Home to shame.

Every hallway is covered in paintings, Latin engravings littering every shelf, moon phases in different corners. It makes you wish you never set foot in that brick schoolhouse all those years ago. The conservatory alone almost made you weep; crawling vines and shining moonflowers, the feasting venus flytraps, and, your favorite, bleeding hearts. Larissa stands back and watches as your fingers ghost over petals, pressing lightly against the flytraps full belly, all with a deep fascination behind your eyes.

“I can’t believe you have this,” your voice echoes quietly in the room, “it- it’s incredible.”

Her silence throws you, immediately turning. The lost look in her eyes makes you falter, and where your typical instinct is to read, you instead step closer.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, reaching to run your fingers over her knuckles that stay clutching her shirt.

There have been many times where Larissa wished for different abilities, or no abilities at all. Right now, however, she wished for nothing more than your ability. She wished she could reach into your mind and see how you saw the world, how you see the flowers, how you see her. Seeing you now, how you watch her with more reverence than you grant what, in her mind, is a greater beauty, she knows she has a window into the limitless path your consciousness takes.

“Nothing at all. I just have one more place in mind,” she answers, hand lifting to stroke your cheek, lingering against your oddly cool skin. You nod wordlessly, letting your fingers intertwine with hers.

Hand held in Larissa’s, you let her lead you through the halls. She pauses to peak around every corner, terrified the two of you would be caught. Leading forward, more like tugging, she brings you towards a spiraling staircase. Letting her go first, she enters into a massive room, cool but comfortable, dark enough to rely on distanced golden lamps.

Floor to ceiling bookshelves line everywall, the familiar Latin etched into stone and wood alike. Ancient Greek, Cyrillic, and Tamil, first and second editions of texts you thought you’d only ever see inaccurate translations of. Sections of different outcast abilities, poetry from around the world, fables of the inception of different classes. Most have an unfortunate layer of dust over them, long ignored in interest of the clearly loved young adult section.

“You’re really trying to make me jealous,” you say breathily, “this place is incredible.”

“These are my favorite sections,” Larissa admits shyly, “I spend hours of my day here and never see another soul. It’s peaceful.”

“All by your lonesome?” There’s a slight mockery in your tone, “not alone now, are you though?”

Red lips curve into a smile as you step closer to her, fingers grazing up her side, slipping around her back to tug her closer. Hands rise to cup your face, eyes hooded as she takes you in. Pupils blown and lip between your teeth, she doesn’t want to deny herself the view nor the pleasure. Leaning into your space, her nose brushes yours, lips just barely ghosting.

You know she’s teasing, even with closed eyes, you can sense her smile. Tilting, you capture her lips, sighing at the contact. The moment your tongue brushes her bottom lip, a switch in Larissa flips, pushing you back into the shelving behind you. Sliding from your face, her hands grip your waist, clutching with an unnecessary urgency. Meeting her pace, your fingers weave into her updo, pulling hairs loose as you try to keep her closer than she physically can manage.

The muffled boom of a door on the other side of the shelf forces you to jump apart, wide eyes looking at each other like deer in headlights. Cheeks puff as you try not to laugh, Larissa immediately pulls you out of the library, forcing you into a jog as you run towards a different end of the building.

—☽—

Carefully, she guides you upstairs, praying that no other teachers or students are around to see her sneaking someone in. Both of you struggle to keep your giggling in, the juvenile nature of it all making you fluttery.

Coming up to a white door, you see another plaque reading Dormitory Parent. Unlocking the door with a strong wiggle, Larissa motions for you to walk in first, quickly shutting the door behind her and latching it. Leaning against it, she lets out a sigh.

Larissa doesn’t get a chance to move closer before your lips press against hers once more. This time, neither of you waste a second, no longer nerved up by the chance of someone walking in again. Timid brushing of lips is forgone as her tongue bullies its way into your mouth, stroking yours with a gentle dominance that has your knees weak.

Wanting hands grip at her waist as she pushes her backwards, leading you further into her quarters until you’re backed into a wall. Lips move from yours and trail down your chin to your neck, teeth passing over your pulse. A groan leaves your lips, hands scrambling to pull Larissa back to your lips, missing them greatly in the seconds they’ve been apart from yours. Feeling her smile against you makes your heart clench, needing more, anything she’s willing to give.

Pulling back from her lips only enough to speak, you ask, “bedroom?”

There’s no reply, only you being tugged from the wall and walked backwards further into the room. You’re so lost in her, her lips, her hands, her tongue, everything. The feeling of dropping onto the mattress is what brings you back in, eyes cracking open to see a lightly panting Larissa above you, lips parted and kiss-swollen. Lapis eyes flick over your face, expression similar to the one she wore when she first saw you, right on the cusp of relief and disbelief. She’s not unlike a goddess viewing her devotee.

Taking her moment of distraction as a tool for your benefit, you flip the two of you, happily taking in the new view of her beneath you. Hair of white gold splaying over the pillows, eyes wide, skin flushed, and entirely beautiful, Larissa Weems is a gift for your eyes only. The hand on her hip slides up, pushing the fabric of her dress with them as they climb. It’s a silent question, or more of a silent begging, hands impatient to feel her.

Larissa’s head rises off the pillow, lips pushing into yours, her hands going to yours to push them even higher, dress inching up more and more. As she wishes, you lift her dress, hands finding solace on plush thighs, laying your body between her legs. The familiarity of it makes you moan into her mouth, pure want running through your veins.

Hands close in on the lace covering her, lips moving to her neck for a chance to breathe, “can I take this off?”

“Yes,” she answers in a whiny tone, lifting herself off the mattress slightly.

You carefully, thought quickly, lower the zipper. Larissa strips the dress off her torso, letting your wanting hands take care of the rest. The world stops for a moment as you look down at her, skin luminescent against dark sheets, constellations of freckles dotted across her chest.

The blush crawling up her neck brings you back in, and you haphazardly shrug off your jacket and tear off your own shirt. Leaning back down, you forgo her lips to kiss down her neck, reveling in her skin beneath yours. Larissa moans softly as her hands wander down your back, around your torso, tugging at your belt, and you're quick to head her command. Greedy hands pull you back down on the bed, gripping at warm skin as your lips take purchase on her neck again.

Laying her back, you continue your path down, fingers taking her bra straps down with you. Eyes peek up to hers, silently asking permission. Larissa arches into you in response, and your lips wrap around a rosey nipple. Nails dig into your back as she moans beneath you, hips bucking against your. Satisfying her desire, you place a thigh between her legs as you continue to lavish her chest with affection.

An already soaked white thong becomes absolutely ruined as Larissa grinds steadily against your thigh, moaning huskily into open air. Continuing down, your thigh moves away as you near her heat. Fingers curling around the band of her panties, you pause, “may I?”

“Please, darling,” Larissa replies breathily, mouth hanging open as you toss the fabric across the room.

Mouthing at her thighs, you suck harder as you get closer, red marks painted across a white canvas. Reaching her slick pussy, your mouth nearly waters at the sight, descending on her immediately. Her hips rock just as quickly, trying to ride your face as your tongue swipes through her folds. Savory wetness covers your chin, nose just barely rubbing against her clit.

Tilting up, you allow your lips to wrap around her button, sucking gently. The gasps Larissa emits above you only egg you on further, hand moving from her thigh to her entrance. Your middle finger slowly pushes into her, pumping carefully before adding your index. Her walls grip your fingers snugly, trying to keep you there. Her hips never still, and you force them down with your free hand as you focus your attention on her.

Alternating between sucking and licking her clit, combined with your fingers increasing pace inside her, has Larissa’s voice growing horse, moans turning to pitchy whines. Long legs wrap around your body, holding you snugly against.

Heavy whimpers fall from her lips. “Please,” she begs, “more, baby, please.”

Denying her when she’s asking so nicely, so prettily? You could never. Your ring finger lines with the others, pressing into her quickly. The stretch makes Larissa cry out above you, heels digging deeper into your back as your tongue swirled around her sex. It takes little time for her breathing to grow hoarse, mouth hanging open as her eyes squeeze shut.

Her breath hitches and hips still, essence coating your fingers as you watch her chest rise and fall rapidly, eyes finally reopening. Slowing your fingers, you retract from her, but in no way are you done just yet. Letting go of her clit with a small pop, you drag your tongue down to languidly traverse her folds, taking in her full taste.

Probing inside her, you relish in the breathy whine that comes from her throat. Pulling back, you flatten your tongue, swiping across her cunt. Trailing up, passing her navel, the dip in her ribs, you take a quick pass over her nipple, swirling softly. Grabby hands pull at you, tugging you back to her lips. Moaning at her own taste, Larissa’s body arches into you, heat brushing over your thigh once again.

Hand trailing up from her thigh, you pull back from her lips, offering your fingers in place of your tongue. Fading red lips wrap around your digits, her own tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing. You can feel your eyes glazing over as you watch her greedily taste herself, gently and unknowingly grinding on your thigh.

Letting go, Larissa takes your stupor to flip you over. Staring down with cool blue eyes with a mysterious fire. Wandering lower and lower, they trace over your own underwear, slick from pleasing her. The whimper you let out only eggs her on, rubbing you over the fabric.

“Riss…” you manage out, already breathless from her touch, “baby…”

A low hum leaves her throat, hand sliding under to make contact with you. Long fingers slide through wetness as lips attach themselves to your neck. Two fingers slide into you, slowly, her thumb makes tight, firm circles over your clit, making you keen into her. The pressure building in your core, that had been steadily growing since the library, feels so overwhelming with her all over you now.

Feeling you trying to ride her slow hand, she speeds up, taking over for you as your moans quickly become airy. Under her lips, she feels your heart beating wildly. For her. All for her.

Her scent, her taste, her hands, her tongue, all of her was all over you. Her teeth scrape against your skin as her fingers curl, making you groan. The hand not in her hair splays across her back, desperate to keep her close. Feeling the want dripping from you, her fingers speed up, almost bullying gummy walls that cling to her.

Tugging her by her hair, you bring her to your lips. Open mouth and messy, you’re barely kissing, just moaning into her mouth as she presses harder to your button, bucking into her hand. You can’t find it in yourself to feel embarrassed about how quickly she got you here, how quickly you’ve become putty beneath her.

Deciding she needs to taste her hard work sooner rather than later, her fingers just barely spread inside you, stretching you. The motion makes you erupt in a silent scream, clinging more to her as you feel the coil in your stomach begin to snap.

“C’mon darling,” she husks against your throat, “give it to me. I know you want to.”

Her words are your undoing, the sheer need in her voice and the feeling of her inside you was enough to snap the band. The whines from you turn into breathy pants, hands on Larissa still holding her close as her fingers slow. As she tries to remove them, you close your legs around her wrist, locking her in place. Her lips drag up your neck, capturing your own, sighing into your mouth as your fingers scratch gently at her scalp.

Lazy kisses last until the post-orgasm warmth leaves your body, shivering slightly at the cool air that you can finally feel tickling your skin. Legs unclamp her hand, allowing her to draw back. You nearly cum on the spot watching her suck your release off, moaning softly against her own fingers.

“Keep doing that and you’re not leaving this bed for a week,” you mumble beneath her.

She chuckles, rolling off to lay on the bed beside you, “I can’t say I’d be opposed.”

Just facing her, watching her chest rise and fall, rosy cheeks slowly returning to their normal color, you’re in awe. Freshly fucked and still perfect, Larissa Weems is a miracle. Laying on your side, you trace your fingers up and down her side, following the path of silver stretch marks and faint freckles. You push yourself forward, pressing yourself into her warm body, adoring how her arms immediately wrap around you.

“I missed you,” she whispers, as if she’s not sure you’d share her sentiment.

You press a kiss to her collarbone, “I missed you more.”

There’s a few minutes of silence before you feel Larissa chuckle beneath you. You hum in question. She squeezes you briefly, “would you like dinner?”

Another pause. You both giggle as you try to walk out of the room with a small waver in your steps.

—☽—

When your eyes open, you think it’s the sun cracking through the curtain that pulls you from the depths of slumber. A piercing ring breaks through the tiredness, bringing your attention to your phone. Your groan is met in tandem by Larissa’s, who shoves her head into her pillow further, arm tightening around your waist. Stretching in her grasp, you mentally prepare for what you know is coming. The little shit has a radar.

“No,” you say the moment you bring the phone to your ear.

“Oh sweet angel, I miss how nice you are,” Parker sing-songs, “did I wake you from your slutty slumber?”

“Yes, both of us. Dick,” you grumble, “you have zero consideration.”

“Give my real friend the phone, I’m done with you,” he says, though you know he’ll never leave you alone. Even when you eventually die.

“Baby, it’s for you,” you say as you pull the phone away from your ear. Larissa peeks one eye at you, clearly irritated. Parker, you mouth. You wish it wasn’t so endearing how quickly she perked up. Sitting up, she nods, motioning for you to put her on speaker.

“Hello, Parker,” she utters through a yawn.

“My love! How are you? Achy? Tired? In need of a better lover?”

“I’m great,” Larissa chuckles, “and yes, yes, and no, most definitely not.” Her eyes stay on you as she answers, peeking down at your lovingly annoyed expression.

The rest of the call is simply Parker talking at Larissa, rather than to her, while you shake your head at his antics. Curling back into her side, you let them talk as you watch her face. She seems at ease, a stark contrast from the stressed Larissa you’d seen when you first looked in her office. She’s less imposing, loose hair and smudged makeup, a smile playing on her lips as she listens to Parker’s plans for a surprise two month anniversary gift for Max.

In the walls of her bedroom. In bed with you. Breathing the same air. Perfection lies beside you.

note: if i could rewrite the entirety of part one i would. but i guess that shows growth in writing or whatever

feedback appreciated as always

[farleighlover]

₊⊹ “i always want you when i’m coming down.”

| farleigh start x fem!reader

w.c: 3.6k

a/n: happy readings! @firemenenthusiast

— / part three. (masterlist here.)

you sat on your bed with your notebook in your lap as you drummed your pencil against your head. it was nearing summer, where all the exams and everything were coming to play. textbooks and textbooks were laid out in front of you while you flipped and underlined each part you thought could be important. when you actually looked at what you were doing, you had the whole paragraph underlined.

you groaned, putting your head in your hands. this didn’t make sense. you reached over to grab your phone to text farleigh for help before you stopped yourself. what the fuck were you doing? you haven’t spoken to farleigh for over four fucking weeks and now you were going to text him about the restoration period?

you remembered how farleigh used to tutor and help you when you didn’t understand the assignment. always an arm's reach away and most times, that was literal. he was always in your dorm and soon people used to joke about how he spent more time in your dorm than his own. you tried to make yourself not miss what you two had, but you couldn’t keep lying to yourself. you missed how when you asked for help, he would wrap you up and sit you in his lap, making you flush against him before asking what you needed help with.

you snapped back with your phone buzzing. you flipped your phone with a message from your best friend, ruby, asking if you wanted to walk to class together. you glanced up at the ticking clock on your wall, taking a second before realizing that your class was starting remotely soon and almost everything from your backpack was emptied all over your dorm. you quickly yanked off the bed, sending "sure!!" before rushing all over to get everything packed and a little bit neater. you can never leave your dorm messy. it was a habit you got from farleigh. you could be leaving in a rush but he’ll grab you by the back of the shirt and drag you back to your desk with that clicking of his tongue.

“baby, i mean this the sweetest way ever, but have you seen your desk? i mean, there are pens everywhere! surely you don’t need these out all at once!” farleigh kissed your head before he just started cleaning it for you. “you should always try to keep minimal things on your desk. it also helps to not distract you.” you glared at how he stacked your notebooks perfectly by size, then getting a post note and writing “clean your space!!!” and posting it in the center to remind you.

he leaned back, stared and scratched his head before slightly nudging a notebook to the left. farleigh took a second or two to admire his work before leaning down to your level with that sly grin of his and saying, "that’s how you do it.”

you rolled your eyes and scoffed. “can i go now?” he hummed before finally answering, “yes.” you grabbed your notebooks and pens quickly before stuffing them in your bag and running out the door, leaving the desk and his glorious neat positions of each item out of place and all over. as soon as you got home, he hit you in the back of the head then kissed your forehead as a small apology before making you clean your mess and not allowing you do anything else before finishing. he rambled about how it was very tempting to just grab you back into your dorm and make you clean it all over again.

and now here you are, a year after that and still cleaning after each study. you could never get it as neat as farleigh though.

it was just a whirlpool that you couldn’t escape from. while cleaning, you realized how much you’ve been written by him, and how much you depended on him. when farleigh first cheated on you, you made him take everything he owned out of your dorm. and when he left, the first thought you had was, “where the fuck are all my jackets?”

correction, “where the fuck are all farleigh’s jackets?”

you shuddered as you snapped back to reality and tried to think of something else. you grabbed everything you needed, threw it in your bag, and slipped on your brown tortoise loafers that had been collecting dust before rushing out the door.

you met with ruby at a bench. she was trying to read the last pages of this book for class. you tapped her on the shoulder, making her flinch harshly and yelp. you forgot she gets scared easily.

“christ, maybe wave hello next time?” ruby picked up her book, flicking the dirt off it. “i’ve tried that before. you still get scared.” you sighed, making her huff. “whatever.”

you heard a familiar laugh. farleigh start. he mumbled something to his so-called “friends” next to him before calling out, “nice shoes!” to you sarcastically and laughing away. you shot him a glare before the gears in your head turned and realized what he said. you immediately shot down to your shoes, noticing that they were the shoes farleigh gave you. fuck, that’s why they felt a little tight.

you groaned and lolled your head back. by this point, ruby realized what was happening.

“oh my gosh. girl, you cannot be making these mistakes! here, we can swap shoes—“ you swatted her idea. “no no, it’s fine, we need to get to class. i can deal with this later. let’s hurry up.” you took her hand and took off to class.

you sat in your dorm room alone after ruby didn’t answer back to your plans. which was odd because she always answered instantly and it wasn’t even that late. you check the clock that’s ticking on your wall. it was only eight.

you groan and lay down on your bed, not knowing what to do. it was irritating, to say the least. you sat up, looking for something to distract you. there, the loafers gleamed in the light. bingo. you were going to give back farleigh those shoes as a final fuck you. if he thinks your shoes are nice, he can have them!

maybe you should think of a cooler punchline.

you got up, threw on one of your jackets, and picked the right shoes before grabbing the loafers and leaving.

you stormed up to farleigh’s door, still remembering the steps and the path to get there. when you went up to the door and raised your hand to knock, you heard something.

see, hearing moaning coming from farleigh’s dorm was a frequent occurrence that everybody was aware of, but not when the speaking, or slash, begging was a voice that sounded familiar. you looked around quickly, hoping nobody was around before you leaned in your ear to the door to hear more clearly.

first off, you can tell it was farleigh and someone having sex. not him doing something stupid. and second of all, that whine in her voice? that’s fucking ruby. farleigh, was fucking, ruby. you were in absolute disbelief. you knew ruby liked farleigh, but not this much!

in pure hatred, you pounded on the door and heard all movement stop. you grind your teeth. “ruby, i will fucking kick down this door if i need to! get the fuck out of that dorm, you coward!” you yelled at the door. people are probably thinking you’re going mental, but you didn’t care.

you heard some scrambling before ruby peaked her head out the door. she scanned the halls before facing you. “…i wasn’t doing anything.”

you almost laughed. “right. you totally weren’t doing something. i know farleigh has an issue about staying quiet.” ruby giggled a little. she always took everything as a light joke. “i’m going to knock that smile off your face. where’s farleigh?”

she immediately dropped her smile before glancing around in the dorm room. “uhm…” ruby looked back at you. “he’s… busy.”

you groaned and rolled your eyes. “of course he’s busy! god, ruby, you are so stupid!” she scoffed. “well fuck you! listen, i didn’t care about you breaking up with farleigh, i did this whole distancing thing just so i could get closer! so you go do whatever you want to do!” and she ended it by slamming the door in your face. you opened your mouth to say something before just giving up and killing yourself inside. your best friend, ruby, just had sex with your ex and here you are, still holding the loafers that was supposed to be your final “fuck you.”

goddamnit. you huffed and just left the loafers there before walking back to your dorm. fuck this.

staring at the ceiling above with no lights is weary. and also depressing. you tried to not think about everything that was happening around you and how fucked up things were getting. farleigh was a good guy and now, the chance of you and him getting back together is closer to zero.

was the love of your life gone? was that it? maybe you were overdramatizing the situation, but it sure felt like it. two years went down the drain. now what were you supposed to do? every moment you two spent together, just everything was gone.

you needed to sleep.

in the morning, you felt like mush. you’re barely there, just trying to put pieces of you together to feel real. why are breakups such a hard thing to get over? you didn’t have anybody now. it was pathetic, really. you didn’t know how to feel. anger, despair, just everything.

you took a deep breath, finally deciding to get over it. that’s all you could do. you got ready for the day and tried to make yourself feel better by saying those stupid mantras before leaving your dorm.

the day felt off. everybody was looking at you. now, your “relationship” just got more messed up. fuck ruby and her whole “making him jealous” idea. she probably spread the word and twisted it into something more than it was. that bitch.

in english, ruby didn’t sit next to you. she sat next to farleigh, the row below you. sometimes they would peck or do stupid stuff like touching his hair, which he would take her hand and kiss it before putting her hand to herself. it baffled you. farleigh only let you play with his hair religiously. it was an interesting sight to see.

a girl bumped into you. no deal. until she muttered in your ear, “jerk.”

jerk? you shot your head back at her, but she was already walking away. what the fuck was happening? you glanced around, confused. some people saw your gaze and immediately started whispering to their left and right.

you sat there, puzzled. you were racking your brain. why would they be mad at you? ruby is the one who shouted about using you for your ex.

you tried to gain the confidence to ask the girl next to you. you hesitated and the professor walked in while telling everybody to shut up for the lesson. goddamnit.

near the end of the class, you were falling behind on notes. you hated how fast this professor wrote and talked. always erasing, writing, and too much at once. it was the first period and you’re already tired of hearing. by the time you finished your notes, the girl next to you was already gone. actually, most of the students were gone. of course. you searched the room swiftly and instead of finding the girl, you saw farleigh and ruby making out. you never wanted to say “get a room” as loudly as possible. you huffed and gathered everything before leaving the room.

you rushed in the halls, trying to get away from that whole mess. who did she think she was? you kept thinking of the whole situation, not paying attention, and accidentally bumping into felix. he caught you in his arms, “christ, sorry!” when felix got a glimpse of who you actually were, his demeanor changed. “oh, hey.”

“felix! i’m so sorry, i’ll be on my way—“ you took a step away before getting an idea. “felix, are people saying rumors about me?”

he scoffed. “rumors? like, yesterday you told ruby to go kill herself and her friend found her chugging down pills in the bathroom? that rumor?”

you stared, jaw dropped. “she said what?” ruby made that up about you? why would she lie about something that serious? at the same time, you had your answer. ruby was stupid. she panicked and she tried to come up with something to make her the victim, like always.

felix raised a brow at you. “are you just playing dumb or what?” you shook your head, “felix, i never said anything like that. she got with farleigh and planned it out when i confronted her!” you groaned, putting your head in your hands. it was all so overwhelming. you were tired of all of it.

felix could tell that you were about to lose it. “hey hey, it’s okay. i believe you.” his tone softening. he hesitantly raises his hands to hug you, not knowing if you would allow him, but you instantly hugged back. knowing that someone was there for you took a massive weight off your shoulders that you didn’t even know was there.

“thank you felix,” you say quietly, still hugging him. you saw farleigh and ruby in the corner of your eye but you didn’t care. it made you feel better that you knew you had somebody who believed and cared. after a moment, you both pulled away before thanking him once more and going different ways.

evening again. the time when you had nothing to do. you were spread out on your bed, just staring at the ceiling. usually, farleigh and you would go to parties, hangouts, or the pub to waste time.

the pub. that was a thing you could go by yourself. “drink away your problems”, they say.

it wasn’t a bad idea. it would be good to go out and get some fresh air before getting totally wasted and passing out. at least you wouldn’t be thinking about your life and farleigh. you sighed, sitting up and stretching before getting your jacket, shoes, and money as you headed out.

walking felt good. the breeze hitting your skin right, and it wasn’t too heavy that it just pushed you away and blinded you with your hair, or just yourself in that matter. that description felt deep in your heart.

you arrive there, getting struck with the loud chatter and the drunken woo’s and cheers for when someone chugged down another beer.

you sat at the bar, just ordering something small. you then realized that farleigh’s booth was right behind you. it was almost impossible not to hear them and interrupt your thoughts. you cursed yourself for going to the bar the same time as them, but they are always here every day so you can’t escape them.

you took a glance at the table. ruby was sitting there on farleigh’s lap, acting like a pure dumbass, and… was that your black dress?

ruby saw you and matched glances with you. she shot you that coy smirk, saying mentally to you something along the lines of, “how could you be so stupid?” it was a little true though, you have been so caught up in everything that you just can’t pay much attention anymore. but still, she can’t be one to speak.

you rolled your eyes, not going any further with her. you took sips of your drink, zoning out every once in a while with your thoughts. but something made you snap back to reality.

“freak!”

you knew that voice. it was farleigh. you shot back immediately, and everyone started to boo you. you can never escape from this hellhole.

in that moment, all the anger and the rage you had pent up in your body just broke out. you immediately grabbed your drink and marched over there, before spilling it all over farleigh and ruby. that was your final "fuck you."

the whole bar went quiet, only ruby’s gasps hung heavy in the air. farleigh stared at you, and he didn’t look angry. he looked… just upset. a sense of yearning and disbelief written on his face. but ruby on the other hand, slammed her fists on the table, she was fuming. “you want to play like that?!” she stood up, shuffling to you before almost punching you!

“are you mental?! you’re the bitch who made up those death threats!” people gasped and sat there stunned. ruby stared at you, just livid. her brows were furrowed, this evil glint in her eyes. she started throwing heavy punches at you out of nowhere while screaming things like, “you bastard! you fucking cunt!” you blocked her punches fairly easy, just backing up steps by steps. truly pathetic.

but something snapped in farleigh. he stood up and abruptly grabbed you by the arm before dragging you out the door, his eyes hard and cold.

you scoffed and blinked a few times in disbelief. “why would you—“

“listen, i don’t want anything to do with you, okay? move the fuck on. i’m sick— i’m sick of this bullshit! i’m sick of you!” farleigh exclaimed. “just leave me and her alone. it’s not that hard.”

you glared. the anger in the world just all ready to lash out at him, until he said this.

“i don’t even know what your problem is. i don’t fucking love you anymore, okay? i’m with ruby now, whether you like it or not.” he spat, lighting a cigarette.

the rest of his words tuned out of your ears. he didn’t love you anymore? that couldn’t be true. it rang in your ears. he didn’t love you anymore? two years. two years just down the drain. and now, he’s with your ex-best friend. it made no sense. how did you get here? this was the man who begged you to come back. every voicemail saved on your phone. and now, he's telling you that every stepping stone, every argument you forgave each other for, was all a lie? that was total bullshit. it had to be. 

“are you even listening to me?! god, just fucking realize that we were never meant to be. we were never meant to last. so leave me alone and get the fuck over it.” farleigh emphasized each word as he towered over you, anger etched in each and every word.

you stood there, not knowing what to say. you stared into his eyes, looking for some sense of remorse or sympathy, but nothing was there. it’s like the man you knew just disappeared and was replaced for this selfish and stupid thing! it felt… just unbelievable. you always knew that you and farleigh weren't the best together, but you were still each other's part. you both fit in some way. you both changed your pieces to be together. to stand together. and all for what? the sweetest man you ever knew, the man you tried hardest for, is the boy who is standing in front of you, yelling at you and expressing the only thing he could say out loud. his anger. were you supposed to feel pity? were you supposed to feel ruined? angry? annoyed? what would say to everybody? that they were right and the relationship would come back to stab you in the heart?

questions topped questions. why would he act like this? tears slipped down your cheeks. this isn't the one you knew. the one you loved. the one you promised that it would last forever. the one who promised you that it would last forever. maybe you were selfish. maybe you were supposed to let it go. but how could you? it didn't feel right to. you were immature to feel like you could hold on to the pieces and shards of your relationship that could just cut you all over again. but you couldn't just throw them away. every piece tipped closer to the image and the feeling that was once there. to feel the warmth and comfort of what you already knew. and maybe you would never admit to yourself, but it was obvious you still wanted him. to be with him. if you could, you would keep that flame lit. the colors conjoining and dancing around, traveling through the wind, and learning. maybe your flame was out of control. maybe it was too much for someone or something to handle. but you still wouldn't blow it out, because you never could. you could never bring yourself to get rid of something that had such a grip on you or to see the damage of what a small thing sprouted to be. and in some shape and form, farleigh was single-handedly the best thing you had. to experience the love everybody was feral to find. if only you just didn't experience it with a stupid man. a stupid, stupid man.

but farleigh kept the flame small. in moments together, he was the one to keep it alive and well. you both not being together blew the flame to spread out of control. you couldn't keep it together, you needed him to help you, no matter how hurt it felt to say.

farleigh groaned and lolled his head back. “freak.” he called out before walking back to the front of the bar, where ruby was standing there, waiting for him. she smiled smugly before intertwining her hand with farleigh’s and walking back in.

you stood there. left alone. maybe it was time to burn out the flame.

..taglist: @fuckshitslover @themoonchildwhofell @khxna @flipsconhelado @nataliesfirefly @inglourious-imagines

[radracer]

1999 Toyota Supra A80 JGTC

@mark_scenemedia

How does an old, awesome race car end up as the world’s fastest and most expensive flowerbed? Well, because nobody else wanted it. Which, considering it was relatively successful (finishing 14th overall in its final season, but also on the podium at Fuji Speedway) is a bit bonkers.

What you're looking at is the 1999 Toyota Supra #38 Cerumo FK/Massimo JGTC car that was driven by Yuji Tachikawa and Hironori Takeuchi. Not some half-arsed marketing buck, either, but the actual car that raced, complete with all its mechanical bits intact, apart from the transmission.

After the 1999 season there was a sponsorship change within the race team, so the main sponsor wanted to get rid of the car. But no one wanted it; it was too complex to run, too expensive. So the owners of the shop where it lives now managed to bag it for free and use it as an eye-catching momento outside the office.

It’s been sat in the same spot for the last 15 years. So long in fact, they can’t actually remember exactly how long it’s been there. But long enough for the paint to fade and crack, tyres to deflate and for the rust to set in and turn the motorsport parts a nice shade of sad, neglected brown.

As you can imagine, over the years they've been approached multiple times by people (from all around the world) wanting to buy it. Some have even offered heinous amounts of money. But they will never sell it. No matter how bad its increasingly decrepit condition gets, it's got tremendous sentimental value and drums up attention in a way a giant inflatable man or Freelander parked on some rockery simply can't. But will they ever restore it? Well, it's always been on their to-do list but they've never got round to.

[icanseethefuture333]

"Trust me, I have magical foresight" 👁

My predictions on the future of the entertainment industry based on astrology & intuitive channeling

Saturn's children: Capricorn & Aquarius

Capricorn vs Aquarius Pluto

Saturn is the planet of karma and we have seen this take full effect once Sagittarius passed the baton to Capricorn to rule over Pluto. I picture Capricorn and Aquarius' dynamic as siblings. Aquarius is the little brother who is unpredictable and goes to the beat of his own drums. While Capricorn is the older sister who is forced to be responsible and take care of business. Capricorn Pluto has exposed many scandals as a way to serve justice. It's as if Capricorn was the Elle Woods of our generation. So much has been exposed from war crimes to human trafficking and more. People have also felt the need to "restrict" others or oppress them of their human rights as well (I.E: the abortion ban). As well as the world's economic status plummeting. Capricorn deals with the material and emotional realm. Capricorn's representing animal is the sea goat. The head and torso of the goat that is seen on land, symbolizes practical thinking and being grounded. While the tail that is in the ocean represents wisdom and emotional depth. Capricorn Pluto was the definition of "not everything that you see is truly how it is". Capricorn Pluto has done the dirty work that nobody else wanted to do, so people were very shocked and uncomfortable during this time (but as the famous saying goes: "in order to be comfortable, you have to get uncomfortable first"). Once Pluto is in Aquarius, I see things being very unpredictable. I believe people will be desentized after everything that has happened during Capricorn Pluto. People will be unable to process their emotions in healthy ways because of experiencing forms of trauma back and forth. Despite the contrary belief of Aquarius being detached, it is too similar to Capricorn, being the bearer of water. Aquarius is logical with a emphatic heart. I see that there will be a rise of humanitarians or more people will wish to participate in scientific research, medicine, and technology. There is the desire to restore what has been ruined. I believe Aquarius Pluto will want to keep us on our toes. Things could be chill for a while and then all of a sudden a conspiracy theory will be debunked. Then another day a scandal breaks out but it will be even more scandalous then the ones we have seen during Capricorn Pluto. Aquarius is leaning back and putting up his feet as he eats grapes thinking: "I don't know I like a challenge 🤷‍♂️" and have a "it is what it is" mindset.

I see the generation of Aquarius Pluto will be highly intelligent and skilled in education related to STEM. People will have the desire to become activists, doctors, and other fields related to that degree. I also see that less people will be going to college and others will instead go to technical schools. Aquarius is known for being rebellious. This generation are going to be free thinkers and will not follow propaganda in the media. It is about breaking generational curses. They do not wish to do what their family wants them to do, they want to be themselves. I also see that parents of this generation are going to be non traditional or their parenting methods will be nonconforming. Parents could have better communication skills with their children and introduce their children to various forms of education that is not just limited to what the school system teaches them. Such as exposing them to books, other cultures, and having them connected with people overseas. I also see this as more people taking online classes.

The political system could be ... unorthodox to say the least. I don't have the words to properly describe it but we may have presidential leaders that are not what we have previously seen. For example, there could be younger politicians or people who have had no political backgrounds working in the government.

Taurus Uranus: "I lost my innocence now I'm in this bitch"

Ever wondered why kids are wanting Lululemon and Sephora, while adult women wear ribbons and clothes that pertain to the coquette aesthetic? It's because 12-13 year olds have their profection year in the 1st-2nd house while young adults in their early 20s have their houses past the 7th. Now someone's profection year depends on their birthday and birth time, but there are set profection years for each age someone turns. For example, when I was 21 my Venus was in my 8th house and my aesthetic has completely changed since then. Taurus Uranus also focuses on what gives us comfort. Adults could be dressing how their inner child wanted to, while kids are wanting to dress like the influencers they idolize on social media. Young adults are nostalgic and are craving the youth that they lost due to the pandemic. While as for kids, they are forced to grow up in a era that is hyperfocused on beauty. There are several terms people use to analyze people's face now that in our youth people have never even noticed before. "Double lip line", "mewing", "facial harmony", etc. It's as if Taurus Uranus is the narcissist parent who is nitpicking at every feature and insecurity that you have out of projection. Why? For money 💰. In the words of SZA: "everybody wanna be beautiful, scared of the unusual". We are in a time period where people are literally using incel terms to feel better about themselves "mogging", "looksmaxxing", etc. It reeks of mean girl and frat boy energy around here. Parents have been stating that their children are being bullied in high school for not having macro trends such as Stanley cups, Lululemon wear, and Sephora makeup. There has also been complaints of there not being enough content for the pre-teen stage and activities available that is more suitable for children of that specific age group. This is on purpose. The more the lines were blurred on who is childlike and an actual adult, the better in the industry's eyes. It's corrupted and perverted (no I'm not exaggerating this either because why do you think kids are debuting as young as 13 and even younger are becoming influencers?). In the 2000s-2010s there was Justice, Claire's, PINK, etc. There was the something to fill the gap in between, but these kids are not caring about the stuff we liked because it is a different generation and they have other interests. I'm gonna be 100% real with you that a kid is not gonna give a fuck about Bobby Jack because they were not even born around that time unless you introduce it to them. With Taurus transitioning into Gemini, I actually see there being better opportunities for children to make friends or perhaps playing in their neighborhood again. Parents could put the effort in to do neighborhood watches or create activities that will allow their children to play outside or be in extracurricular activities. I additionally see this happening because of the criticism of parents letting their children become "IPad" kids (which come on now, as if we didn't have Nintendo DSes, PSPs, and Gameboys as kids).

The lesson of Taurus Uranus is to not fall into consumerism. Do not get plastic surgery just because you think your face is asymmetrical, do not buy 10 bottles of skincare just because you have one pimple, and do not buy from these brands that don't care about you or the environment. Stand up! If you're gonna do something, then do it for yourself. Learn how to be yourself again, not what social media is telling you who to be. Practice self love and self care. Taurus Uranus should be focused on your comfort and pleasure, not anyone else's. A lot of people will be bullied during this time and will spend money on shit that's worthless. You know how a lot of people have gotten bullied for doing things that weren't on trend and then years later it's cool? That is exactly what's gonna happen once the sign transitions from Taurus to Gemini. Everybody is gonna be talking about it. People are going to use their critical thinking skills more and will communicate their thoughts. They will realize "wow my/their behavior was really shitty". I also see this as people being multi faceted and fake though for their own personal benefit (yes I know not all Geminis are two faced, relax). Cancel culture is still very much so a thing and people have seen the repercussions of it. So people are going to learn how to think before speaking and rebrand their public image. Unfortunately that also means more podcast bros and phony celebrities trying to redeem themselves in interviews. We are already seeing this happen with Katt Williams and the celebrities he exposed. They are doubling back and shaking in their boots, their only response is "ahaaa that's crazy😂" without actually giving a answer that is of substance.

The trend with influencers today is that they focus on their family, personal assets, and wealth, how they live a "soft life". A lot of celebrities and influencers have even had children solely for the purpose of money and being deemed likeable or trustworthy. With less and less people having the desire to have children due to the economy as well as *Jaden Smith voice* the political state of the world right now. I believe videos will focus more on friendships, neighbors, people's hometown or neighborhoods instead of taking expensive trips overseas, connecting with strangers, making videos about "a day in my life at school/work", niche interests, or even educational videos becoming popular again. People are going to look at these influencers and think "well I don't have the privilege to go out and live a soft life so i'm gonna talk about my life instead". The energy will feel very "friendly" and people will try to be relatable.

I remember that someone on Tiktok said we are going backwards when it comes to feminism and @sunkissedchld made a point to me that Taurus is "traditional". That could also explain why a lot of women on Tiktok are just posting about their shitty boyfriend/husbands that don't cook, clean, or take care of their kids. Women are just going "You're so silly babe 😂😍😏" to a man with shit stained drawls. A lot of female celebrities who have proclaimed themselves as "feminists" I noticed as well are being submissive to men who are irrelevant and misogynistic towards other women. I also see a pattern of men of wanting women to be docile. (They wish to be the "provider" of the relationship. Asking women "What do you bring to the table?" or wanting to go "50/50", when the treatment is not fair). They are sticking beside them and being a ride or die for them, even though they would never do the same. Which follows into my next observation, Pisces Neptune.

Pisces Neptune: the end of our delulu era

"They're my twin flame" no they're not pookie ❤

Pisces is illusive and sensitive. People are struggling with living in reality and could be prone to derealization or maldaptive daydreaming during this time. Pisces will eventually transition into Aries and that is rough. It's not as gentle as Pisces is. Aries Neptune will be like a wake up call and people are not going to like it so their reaction could be very "bratty". We are going to be living in masculine energy soon (We currently have planets in the sign of Taurus, Capricorn, and Pisces then evenutally its going to be in Gemini, Aquarius, and Aries). It's detached, it is not focused on feelings. Although, Aries is considered the youngest of the Zodiac signs. So people could be more energetic and motivated to achieve their goals. There could be a lot of pent up aggression or people will subconsciously feel the need to compete with others. I believe Pisces Neptune was more so the era for "the believers". There was such an overload of information on manifestation, new age spirituality, reality shifting, and divine masculine/feminine energy. We see it in art, we see it in movies, we see it on social media, it's everywhere because it's our subconscious as a collective. Once the masculine energy comes in people are going to focus less on the mysteries of the universe and will want to focus on the facts. It's the mindset of "Okay, manifestation is cool and all, but its not going to put food onto the table". People will want to take action and are tired of waiting for "divine timing". Aries is brave and has a positive outlook. I suggest for people to make a wishlist now and focus on manifesting your intentions clearly because in the future it will all be about turning those desires into reality. Realistically speaking I see a lot of relationships ending as well because most people who are in relationships are only with their partners because of infatuation and not for love. It is likely people will marry for just company and financial security to survive. People might even marry their best friends or have very "non traditional" romantic relationships.

Music

Once Pluto finally settles in Aquarius. I see the quality of music changing. Music is going to go a few different ways.

1. The music will be LONGER but it will have short titles to grab people's attention. People's attention span have gotten so bad that musicians have to make songs 2 minutes or less to appeal to Tiktok trends. At best music has 2 choruses and 1 verse, no bridge and there is only a 2nd verse unless a another artist is being featured. Andre 3000 is already ahead of the game in terms of doing this. Andre is famously known as ½ member of the rap group Outkast. He is someone who is mysterious and eccentric. Andre appears in the music ever so often and fans have begged for him to release more music. So he has released an album titled "New Blue Sun", but it not a hip hop album, it's a flute, new age, spiritual jazz album. The album title is short and simple while the songs are all past 10 minutes and have long names. The first track being called: "I swear, I Really Wanted To Make A "Rap" Album But This Is Literally The Way The Wind Blew Me This Time".

2. I see there being developments in music so that everyone can enjoy it. I believe that scientists will try to invent ways for people who are deaf to listen to music better, whether that is creating technology so they can feel the vibratuons or something of that nature. Artists might even start doing sign language to communicate to their fans who are deaf or include braile for fans who are blind. Artists have been making an effort in being more inclusive by hiring people with disabilities. So there could better opportunities for them to be in the spotlight as well.

3. I noticed that music has been focused more on sound and less about the words/lyrics. Drill, drum and bass, reggaeton, and afrobeat are all genres that very popular right now. A person's lyrics could be trash but most people will dismiss it as long there's a catchy beat behind it. With Gemini Uranus, people's lyricism could improve but the words and beat will have a vastly different vibe. The lyrics could be sad and the beat is uptempo, or vice versa. There will be a duality to the song. (I.E: Hey Ya! By Outkast, Pied Piper by BTS, etc). I also see this as more writers being hired for streaming artists or there will be a rise of duo artists. This reminds me of Billie Ellish and her brother Phineas, so it is possible people could make music with their sibling, friend, or a partner (one person writes, one person sings, etc). (I.E: Lion Babe, AlunaGeorge, Akdong Musician, & Marian Hill).

As for the music industry itself, it is aware of the impact of a collective boycott. They will realize how much they need us as consumers. The west and east are going to come together in terms of releasing music. South Korea has been trying to appeal to international fans for a reason. They know fans overseas put a lot of money in their pocket and without us, K-Pop would not even be this huge thing (also yes I said it and I meant it, where would K-Pop be without the influence of black culture, latin culture, Indian culture, etc? Exactly). So I potentially see I-fans get the same treatment as K-fans. There's going to be fansigns, album signings, and more. While as for the west, they see South Korea as a way to make money. Which I believe the U.S will use their media for political propaganda because they are aware of those fans that worship celebrities and will defend them to no end. I feel like there's going to be a switch between the two industries as well. Fans will get bored and overwhelmed by the amount of large K-Pop groups debuting, it is oversaturated. So companies' response to this is to debut more soloists or smaller groups of 2-3 members. As for the west, they could take over the group scene and debut larger groups with 4+ members.

The U.S and South Korea think they pretty much got it in the bag as for being the most dominant countries for the music industry but when I tell you they're gonna be shook... I strongly believe that countries in Africa, especially South Africa, will be strong competitors soon for the music industry. We are seeing this with Jam Republic, Amaarae, Tems, Tyla, & Burna Boy. Their music/stage presence has longevity. It's the fact that season 2 of Street Woman Fighter ended last year and still people are talking about Jam Republic. It's how "Angels In Tibet" and "Water" has had people in a chokehold for the past few months. In South Africa's solar return chart for 2024, their ascendant will be in Leo, meaning they are going to be attracting a lot of attention. Which means their Aquarius will be in the 7th house and people will be attracted to their culture because they will see it as unique and interesting. I genuinely see Tyla paving the way for other South African artists in the future, she has an Aquarius stellium and she will be turning 22 on January 30th. Her profection year depends on her birth time which isn't available yet but it is presumed to be that her 11th house will be activated for the rest of the year. So she will be a hot topic for social media. Her level of fame could depend on what musical direction she decides to take in the future, but for now Tyla has great potential. She is able to appeal to the Taurus Uranus beauty standards because her beauty is familiar. It has been said quite often that Tyla reminds people of artists from the 2000's (Christina Milian specifically), it is nostalgic, while keeping it modern and fresh. Tyla's inclusion of her culture when it comes to her music and choreography for her performances makes her stand out. People will grow tired of Tyla's current concept though if she keeps up with the "pop" element to her music, so if she wants to be a big artist in the future, she will have to turn to her roots for musical success. I believe other artists will try to replicate "Angels In Tibet" by Amaarae because the production of the song is so technically perfect it's amazing and I'm not even exaggerating. This song is the definition of a cultural blend. You can hear Arabic scales, Brazilian funk, afrobeats, and probably even more all in one song and it works! People are going to want to hear more of that. So artists are going to follow that trend of the creation of musically, culturally blended songs.

I also see that there is going to be only a select few of new people who will get to be famous celebrities, while others will agree to be more of a "filler celebrity". Which is weird to say but there will be people who are going to be used as props or to fill in the gaps. People who are just apart of the "simulation".

The devil/demon musical concepts in the industry will die down because I see most people will turn atheist or become agnostic. People are desentized to it and it's nothing they have not seen before. I see people reacting like "Why would I be worried about the illuminati when we should be focused on the economy?". They are not gonna care for it and celebrities will have to come up with something new for shock value. So people could start promoting aspects of Christianity such as "heaven", "biblical angels", and other forms of religious propaganda. Lil Nas X is an example of this and I wouldn't be surprised if other artists do it next.

I feel there is going to be another wave of rock bands becoming a trend again as well, Green Day has released an ep recently, and they are well known for being political with their music. Stray Kids are also known for being a multi genre K-Pop group and their recent album was rock themed. So artists exploring alternative concepts or artists doing music for charity, should be a common theme for the next few years.

Beauty

With Aries Neptune, I could see people doing intricate things to their faces such as getting facial piercings, wearing makeup thats more bold, and getting face tattoos. People could bring back the trend of Nelly's cheek bandaid. There is a desire to accessorize the face. The beauty trends during Taurus Uranus was focused on hyper femininity, almost a blend of Korean and American beauty standards. Straight eyebrows, delicate facial features, manga lashes, and porcelain-like skin. The beauty was more doll-like but natural, very feminine (I don't want this beauty trend to die ngl, I love the pink dolly look 💔😭). As for Gemini Uranus, the beauty standards will be more androgynous or gender neutral. I also interpert this as people looking ethereal and youthful, almost like a fairy. I am reminded of Aya Takano's art, the characters are gender neutral and there is hardly any indications of their sex. So I'm seeing thick eyebrows, whimsical makeup (messy glitters or makeup looking half done), exaggeration of the eyes, drunken rosy cheeks, tinted lips that almost look bruised, undereye liner as opposed to eyeliner above the lash line, eye makeup that has two different colors or asymmetrical, and freckles (naturally or faux will be popular). I could also see people having two different makeup looks on one face (Harley Quinn in Suicide Squad). Could see people with Heterochromia eyes suddenly being seen more in the media. Models' facial expression could be cheeky, as if they're trying to appear "tough". It's not as fierce, it will be more playful. There could be a rise of people of the LGBTQ+ community in modeling industry as well.

Fashion

I already predicted some trends in fashion, one being for the Victoria Secret fashion show which I recommend you go and read that was pretty accurate. Since we are entering a period that has masculine energy, I see people will have an androgynous style. People have went from skinny jeans to flared pants and baggy clothes. People are wearing sneakers more often and dressing casually as well. I don't see feminine clothing being erased entirely because Gemini has a duality of course. So people could combine elements of femininity and masculinity. Two pieces, asymmetrical cut dresses, and skorts in particular. I am reminded of how Acubi fashion and late 2000s wear is trending again. Headphones, hoodies, windbreakers, straight legs jeans, etc. I could see people being interested in sports wear with Aries Neptune as well. There will be an athlete that will be very popular when it comes to fashion, like Michael Jordan. Sneaker culture could be more of a prominent thing. I honestly don't think people will dress as formally for occasions or in the workplace. They could look chic and cool, but not as prestigious. I see people being less nostalgic about the Y2K era so people could start moving on to something similar. I have a feeling that we will continue to see fashion trends from the 80s/90s/00s. I keep getting a visual of the manga "Slam Dunk". Which is a 90s anime about a team of basketball players. So jeans, sneakers, overalls, snapbacks, and things of that such. Aquarius Pluto could also mean a generation of people being rebellious and carefree in terms of style, so people could just dress to their own personal tastes instead of what's trending as well.

[albondiguilla007]

And for another monthly fic recommendation…Drum rolls….

DRARRY

(The art was done by the talented @littlewinnow)

And The Illusion that One Can Get Things Right

119k, Complete, Explicit

The synopsis: Blindsided by Ginny's sudden departure from his life, Harry struggles to care for his family—replete with a new baby. The situation plummets from disarray to pandemonium just as Draco Malfoy arrives to drop Scorpius off for a visit, because of course it does.

IT WAS SO SO SO CUTE

James, Albus, Lily and Remy stole my heart. The friendship between the Potters and the Malfoys felt so natural and tender ugh, I loved every chapter with them on it. Seeing Harry try to do his best as a recently single father, trying to give his kids the love and attention they crave after Ginny left WITHOUT neglecting his other duties? Juggling with the needs of a newborn baby, two moody teenage kids and an adorable ten year old girl? Poor guy was STRUGGLING.

And then, so organically you can’t help but be in awe of the author’s skills, Draco and Scorpius enter their lives: restoring the natural order of things with small gestures and every day domesticity. IT MADE ME MELT 💕

I loved the way Draco helps Harry carry the heavy burden on his shoulders, all without losing that iconic Malfoy sass. AND THEN THEY START FALLING IN LOVE 😭 So slowly and naturally, like it was meant to happen from the start. STOP IT 😫❤️

This fic felt like a warm hug, so tender and fluffy and spicy at the same time. One hundred percent recommended.

[cannedpickledpeaches]

Insert Your Name (5)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to series masterlist!

Notes and TW: Overthinker reader having a conversation with Mr. "Just Trust Me" Jade Leech. This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Tags: @guava-writes @itszzmoon @twstsandturns @myteacupisempty @rou-luxe

“Would you like some tea?”

Jade offers you a cup of something that smells like lavender. You shake your head.

“I’m okay.” You turn your attention back to your screen. He sets the cup and saucer next to you anyway. “Who knows, maybe you’ve put a suspicious substance in it.”

“Is it so hard to believe that I can do something out of the kindness of my heart?”

You chuckle and shake your head. “You? Absolutely not. Give an inch and you take a mile.”

There’s a beat where he doesn’t reply. You look up at him, wondering if you’ve said something strange, but his back is turned as he walks to his seat. When he turns back around to settle in his chair, his expression stills like a frozen pond. Perfectly crafted, carefully unreadable.

A few hours have passed since his phone call. You’ve decided to work in Jade’s office today, thinking that you might get a clue or a burst of inspiration if one of the subjects of your thoughts is in close proximity. He doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, his quiet hums and constant catering to your needs indicates that he’s rather pleased. Aside from the cup of tea releasing a wispy veil of steam, there’s also a plate of cookies and a bowl of cherries on his desk beside you.

“A penny for your thoughts?”

You close your laptop and sigh. There are too many to count, all swirling in your head without rest.

“Still thinking about what you told me this morning.” You don’t want to address the bigger issue—that (Y/N) apparently forgot who you are—so you start small. “I didn’t expect you to actually fall asleep.”

“Neither did I.” Jade frowns in thought. “I imagine it is a result of too few hours of sleep throughout the week.”

“Even so, you said it yourself. You can’t sleep around strangers.” You drum your fingers on the desk. “Maybe you actually do feel at ease around her.”

“That is not the case.” His voice carries certainty that surprises you. When you glance at him, you notice that his mouth is set in a firm line. “I was quite unsettled when I woke up.”

“Huh.” You can imagine it. His shock at his lapse in vigilance. But even so, no matter how tired he is, he has never made this sort of blunder before. “I guess there’s a first for everything.”

A shadow passes over his face. He stands next to your chair and leans over you. His eyes stare straight into yours—piercing mismatched eyes with an almost magnetic pull.

“I will ask you the same question as last night. Do you really believe that manuscript is a reflection of things that will certainly come to pass?”

Your heart jumps. Is he using Shock the Heart? But a few seconds pass, and no words leave your lips. This is not his Signature Spell. This is Jade Leech asking you a sincere, serious question. Besides, you have no reason to lie.

“Like I said, I don’t know—”

“Then don’t talk and act as though it is.” Is that frustration in his voice? He maintains eye contact with you, and you feel as though you can’t look away. “I, for one, think a predetermined future is horribly boring. My actions dictated for me, every event predictable . . . . I would sooner abandon it all and throw caution to the wind. The only reason why I am following the manuscript is because it outlines a way to restore my parents’ health.”

His sentence ends on half a breath, as though he originally intended to say more. He doesn’t. You wait, but nothing comes out.

“And?”

He kneels beside your chair, no longer towering over you or crowding your space. When he speaks again, he is quiet. But in the silence of his office, you hear it clear as day.

“And because that is what you want.”

Many history textbooks praise the Sea Witch for her spells and potions. One of the most famous ones took away a mermaid’s voice. You wonder if this is what that mermaid felt like. A storm of thoughts, but none able to be processed by your vocal chords. Parted lips that leak no sounds. You stare, nonplussed.

Eventually, you manage to let out a breathy, barely-heard whisper.

“What?”

His Adam’s apple bobs. “That is the truth. If that is what you wish for, then I will do my best to live up to your expectations. I know your good friend (Y/N)’s life is difficult. I know you think that by following this manuscript, everyone will be happy, because that is what it says will happen.”

You continue staring. The words seem to pass through you. It’s as though you are sitting in a dream, your surroundings wavering and surreal. What is he saying?

“The truth is that I could simply care less about (Y/N). She is at most an acquaintance. The reason why I give her special treatment is because I know she is precious to you.” He keeps rambling. You get the sense that he has been keeping quiet about this for a while. “As for the matter concerning my parents. If we follow the story, there is still no guarantee that they will be cured. Even you said you do not know if the manuscript’s plot will certainly come to pass. If Vil Schoenheit refuses to help my family, we will think of another way. He is not the only alchemist or curse expert in the world.

“I will follow what you want. But do not ask me to fall in love with (Y/N). That is the one thing I cannot do.”

“Why?” Your brain feels like porridge. Nothing seems to be getting through it. You cannot reason out a single thing. Isn’t (Y/N) created to be loved? Aren’t they written to fit like a glove on each other’s fingers? You’ve read the story. There doesn’t seem to be a particular reason why the Jade in the story obsesses over her aside from spending time together. It doesn’t actually matter. It’s the author’s will that their love is written in the stars—and the pages of that damn manuscript. It’s the point of the entire plot. “Is there something you don’t like about her?”

“Do I need a reason for failing to fall in love?”

Your mind blanks. Does he need a reason? He has a similar line in the manuscript. Do I need a reason for falling in love? If you think about it, isn’t it the same? No matter how you try and reason out the answer, love is not a puzzle with a logical answer. There is no formula, no recipe, no surefire step-by-step manual that you can follow to ensure success. Sometimes a spark causes a flame, and sometimes it sizzles out and dies. There is nobody to blame for either outcome.

You can’t wrap your mind around it. Why. Why. Why. Your brain, constantly overflowing with thoughts, cannot leave this topic to rest. A puzzle without an answer leaves you feeling antsy. Not knowing everything is a sin to your conscience.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“That is how love tends to be.”

An unsatisfactory answer. You dig your nails into your palm.

“Then answer me this. Why do you follow what I want? Is it because I’m interesting? No, that’s not right. You just said following a pre-written script is boring, and that’s exactly what I told you to do. I don’t understand.”

“The script is boring. You are anything but.”

“Me? What have I done?”

He smiles, then, one wholly different from his polite masks or his teasing grins or even his unhinged laughter. It’s an expression you associate with the times he talks about his interests. The expression that blankets and scatters across his countenance like orange rays of the setting sun over ocean waves. A quiet and calm beauty. A fondness that he rarely allows to be seen.

“Did you know that when you have much on your mind, you look up to the sky? That is why you prefer rooms with windows. The attic in my home that you love so dearly is one such room, and you spend all your time there nestled on the window seat. On that topic, you prefer small spaces because it helps you feel secure while you think. This is because you tend to zone out, and it is easier to defend yourself when no threats can appear behind you.”

“Uh, this is more like a behavioural report than a reason.”

“I do adore observing your behaviour. Particularly when you are lost in thought. I find myself wondering what you’re thinking about. If you’ll share them with me. But oftentimes, you do not trust me enough to do so.”

You swallow hard. “It’s hard to.”

“Why is that? I’ve known you for fifteen years. Floyd has known you for just as long, Azul a little less. (Y/N) has only known you for one year. So why can’t you trust me?”

You fiddle with your fingers, no longer capable of meeting his gaze. This kind of outburst is not something you expected from Jade. How long has he been thinking this way?

“I can’t tell what’s going on in your head. That’s why. Everything you say or do just gives me more to think about. If you’re being genuine or not, if you’ll suddenly decide to turn on me, things like that.”

Hurt flashes in his eyes. His smile shifts from fond to rueful and raw desperation permeates his shaky voice. It sounds brittle, as though a well-aimed push would shatter it into infinitesimal pieces.

“Is it so inconceivable that I could do things for you without ulterior motives?”

You look away. “Only until it no longer serves your interests or amuses you. Even if I can’t trust you fully, I’m sure there’s at least some level of it between us. I mean, we see each other regularly. I even let you drive me home.”

“Yes, but I am afraid I am a greedy man. Anyone else turning their back on me would be tolerable, but you—if it’s you . . . . At least promise me this. Even if I turn on the entire world,” he declares quietly, “promise you will trust that I will not betray you.”

You open your mouth as though to reply. Nothing comes out. You try again, your fingers gripping your knees tightly.

“I think we’re too similar. We’re both too cautious. We both think too much. Because of that, I can’t let my guard down around you.”

“Yet that is exactly what fascinates me.” He places a hand over yours. “Trying to decipher your thoughts, wondering about the motivations behind your actions, these are all things I find myself enthralled by. Your brutality and decisiveness towards that which would benefit you, but your willingness to do anything for the people dear to you. Your cautious nature as you execute your bold plans. Every time I think I have you pinned down, I only unearth another layer. The mystery intrigues me. On the other hand, I cannot help but wish you would trust and open up to me a little more.”

“That’s contradictory.”

“I cannot help it.” He smiles wryly. “I am contradictory by nature, as are you.”

You study his hand that engulfs yours. Cool to the touch. Ungloved, too. You muster your resolve.

“Then promise you won’t lie to me.” You finally lift your gaze until it returns to his eyes. Clear eyes that have been by your side for years. The eyes of a liar and schemer. Ironic for the one who wields a Signature Spell that forces out the truth. But these are the eyes of Jade Leech, and you won’t try to make him be someone he isn’t. “Lie to everyone else, I don’t care. But don’t lie to me. You can try to trick me or give me half-truths. I’ll figure them out on my own. If I still get fooled, that’s on me. Just don’t outright lie.”

The pounding of your heart fills your ears. Then, it is replaced by the sound of his quiet laughter.

“I expected nothing less from you.” He brings your hand up to touch his cheek. It only lasts a moment before he lets go and stands back up, returning to his seat. “I give you my word. I will never lie to you again.”

You look at the teacup on the desk, the lavender tea inside now cooled. The untouched cookies and cherries. A soft clink rings out as you take the teacup and bring it to your lips. Sweet and fragrant. Even cold, the tea Jade brews is impeccable.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1949 Delahaye 175 S Saoutchik Roadster

Saoutchik was a cabinet maker when he moved to Paris from his home in Ukraine around 1900, but he didn’t take long to establish himself in the fledgling automotive coachbuilding industry and he showed a consistent flair over the next 50 years which puts him among the very elite of automotive designers.

His designs borrowed little from other designers, and along with names such as Figoni et Falaschi, Chapron, Franay and de Letourner et Marchand, Saoutchik was one of the foremost designers of exquisite Art Deco coachwork during the 20s and 30s.

Saoutchik was commissioned to produce the spectacular work-of-art by flamboyant English collector, Sir John Gaul. The design was based on the first post-war Delahaye chassis from a 175 S Roadster (chassis number 815023) producing 165 bhp from an engine much larger than the pre-war Delahayes ran – a 4,455 cc naturally aspirated overhead valve inline six cylinder engine with four-speed electro-mechanically actuated Cotal Preselector gearbox, Dubonnet coil spring front suspension, De Dion rear axle with semi-elliptic springs, and four-wheel hydraulic finned alloy drum brakes. The wheelbase was a whopping 116 inches.

The car was unveiled at the 1949 Paris Auto Show, and was exhibited at all the major European concours events that year, from Paris to Monte Carlo to San Remo, scooping the pool wherever it was exhibited. It won best-in-class in the Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance in 2006 just a few months after a complete restoration. Just a few months later, the car was honored again, winning People’s Choice at theprestigious Amelia Island Concours d’ Elegance.

Having fulfilled its exhibition duties, it then passed through a succession of other flamboyant owners, including actress Diana Dors.

The final word on this stunning automobile goes to Ian Kelleher, President and Chief Operating Officer, RM Auctions

“Following the financial depression of World War II, there were few collectors with the means, flamboyance and flair to commission a car as exotic as this Saoutchik Roadster. Arguably the most desirable post-war, coachbuilt automobile of all time, it is truly a masterpiece of the coachbuilder’s art. Eye-catching and exotic, it is wonderful to drive and combines superlative styling on a chassis of competition quality.”

Courtesy of RM Auctions

[jamneuromain]

Another Man's Poison Part 1

Curtis Everett x You

Warning: 18+, Multiple prompts: A/B/O; “Show me.” + Frightened + Cabin in the woods, Shifter!Curtis Everett, Shifter!Reader, discussion of the transformation ritual and prima nocta, poisoning, mentioning of the results of poisoning. Less than decent parents. Grumpy Curtis in general.

Summary: You have accidentally come across a scheme that could shatter your shifter clan and your life. Unable to think of any way to stay away from this catastrophe, you turn to Curtis for help.

W/C: ~2.2k

A/N: the third entry to for this amazing event organized by @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 <3 (I thought I could finish it by 5.4, but alas my muse is behind me - and to be fair it's a large story I suspect it will go 6k in total so I'm dividing it into two parts ... or three, depends.

Part 2 | One Man's Meat M. List

It is a pretty bitchy thing to do, you suppose, pranking on someone else. But you can't help it if - which in fact, indeed happened - that sneaky bitch Margo smeared red paint on your pants during the painting lesson and made it look like your period was a massive flood. You are getting your payback one way or another, and what better way is there than to put dead lizards into her bed?

Margo, just in case anyone within the thirty miles premises doesn't know her already, is the cheer leading captain of the Ridgemount High, which obviously has given her every right to bully other people.

To you, she is the daughter of the second-in-command of your shifter pack. She somehow believed herself to be the future pack leader, terrorizing and threatening any younger pack members who refuse to do her biddings.

She's 19, by the way. Same as you, in the senior year of high school.

Back to the subject.

Payback.

You collected a bag of dead lizards from the forest this morning. Holding the bag in your hand, you sneak near Margo's house as subtle as possible, walking on tip toes just so you wouldn't make a noise. The grown wolves of this pack could hear a branch snap a mile away, which is why you have to be quiet.

Maybe Lady Luck has been on your side, for the small venture towards Margo's house has been uneventful. You picked the time knowing precisely that most of the shifters are gathering at Paul's, where they will be discussing the upcoming transformation ceremony for the shifters who have come of the age 19 this year to transform, first time ever in their lives, into their wolf form under the moon. That would include you, Margo, and the Maximoff twins.

You are going to enter the house via the backdoor when you hear three men talking inside.

"... the best time to attack would be the ceremony," says one of the men. By the sound of his voice, you believe he is Margo's brother Halden, "He would never see this coming."

"He thought he was tired," sounding like Paul's younger brother Sam, sniggers another, "He doesn't suspect a thing other than his old age. By the way, great idea, the wolfsbane."

The wolfsbane is one of the deadliest plants known to you wolf shifters. What the hell are they planning? You cover your mouth not to make a sound, but you press your ear closer to the door.

"Paul would be in his weakness form on the night of the full moon." The third one joins the conversation, "I will challenge him then. He will lose fair and square. And nothing, I mean nothing will stop me from becoming the Alpha of this pack."

Fuck. It's an uprising. Your heart beats like the rhythm of war drums. The third one seems like Margo's father Jason. No wonder Margo has always held her head high like she was going to own the pack.

"When I'm in charge," huffing out an evil laugh, Jason continues, "I'm restoring prima nocta."

You have heard about prima nocta, a habit dying out decades ago. It was first initiated for the need of the leader of the pack, also known as pack Alpha, to pick the best and suiting female, his true mate, to bear his pups. But the "first-night" habit died out because female shifters would writher fairly quickly without the love and adoration after connecting to Alpha, since true mates are rather rare, and as shifter packs welcomed the more acceptable way of entering relationships like regular humans, "prima nocta" no longer exists except for some rare closed-off packs.

The three men share their visions of the sick and twisted ruling of this pack, but the thought of being owned and taken by a shifter twice your age has you nearly hurling your guts out.

The men plans a few more items before the sound of a loud slap makes you shudder. "I said Show me, goddammit!" Yells Jason, "I need to see the moon calendar!"

As they continue to plot and scheme against the pack Alpha Paul, you retreat in small steps. And you run. You run as fast as you could, far away from the house.

"So what do you need me for?" Asks Curtis, when he pours more chamomile tea into the porcelain mug in front of you.

Curtis joined the Wilford clan several years ago as a part-time doctor and a full-time herbologist. The Wilford clan needs access to fresh herbs, and your clan lacks a shifter doctor, hence, both clans have cut a deal.

Curtis would help diagnose and treat illness for your clan, and he could wander in your clan's mountains to harvest a patch of herbs he grows. In return, these herbs could be used by the Wilford clan as well.

Curtis has known both your clans well enough as an outsider who lives on the border of the two clans.

Your nails pick on the edge of the scorching mug nervously, as you truly have nowhere else to turn to, "My parents were on board with the uprising, as were a couple of families ... so I fled. And I'm not a wolf ... not yet, until the ceremony. I also know that Jason would claim every female wolf of age..." A bile of vomit rises to your throat at the thought, "Can you help me? To delay the transformation?" You look up at Curtis, hopefully, at the silent young shifter that has drifted from one clan to another. Rumor has it that he finished the transformation ceremony without the help of a clan, which is an utter rarity in the history of shifters.

Curtis scratches his eyebrows and hums, neither confirming nor denying your plea. His eyes stopped meeting yours upon hearing your request, sipping on his tea silently.

"I just need another moon cycle to figure out how I can run away from them. And find another clan." You ramble on, uncertain why you share your plan with a member of a foreign clan, especially someone who could possibly rat you out, as you barely know him, but you ramble on, "By the next full moon, I would be transforming into a wolf in another clan. That's plausible, right?"

Curtis finally glances at you. His brows furrow into a tight knot over his cerulean eyes, deadpans, "It's not that simple."

"But you have done it." You blurt out, clinging to your last line of hope, "They told me that you have transformed without a pack."

Curtis shakes his head, standing from his chair to boil water on the stove, clearly not willing to proceed on this topic further.

"Have you tried warning Paul Deckard? The ceremony is in two days." He checks the moon calendar on the wall.

"I -"

Truth is, you haven't.

Paul might not be the best pack Alpha in the world. He relies on Margo's family way too much and allows Jason and Halden to have their way with the pack already. You doubt telling Paul would make much difference, and it sure doesn't seem like Paul could outnumber so many families at the same time. Not to mention the wolfsbane poison could slowly drive him mad.

If you have to confess, you haven't thought about warning Paul at all, after learning your parents' intention of joining the uprising.

You were busy thinking about yourself. And your future. And whether you could live all by yourself.

And you instantly thought about Curtis.

"Okay." Curtis sighs heavily, dragging the chair across the table closer to you, before plopping down, "Clearly, you don't know the ceremony enough to ask me a dumb question like this."

"But -"

Curtis doesn't give you time to argue, he just continues on his own, "The moon calendar is precisely calculated so that the ceremony is at a night when the lunar power is at its peak. You miss this moon, you can't get it for another year."

"I -"

"Don't get me started on the postpone bullshit." He snaps at you, making you shudder involuntarily at his fist banging on the table, to which his voice lowers by a little, "It's risky as hell to cut yourself off from the lunar power. The Alpha in Dakota drank some wrong potion and cut himself from the lunar power and his wolf, guess what?"

"What?" You weakly offer.

"He splits his wolf spirit from his own." Curtis mocks with a cold sneer, "His pack has to put him under a mental facility, and now all he does is walk on all fours and sniff around like a dog. And before you ask," Curtis glares at your lips, when you are tempted to speak, "no, he cannot transform to his wolf form. Not now, not ever, not even the day he dies."

"One of the reason that the ceremony has to perform with the full pack," He adds, standing up to get the screeching kettle from the stove, pouring more hot water to the tea pot, "is to have the pack's mental energy concentrated on smoothing the transformation. When you turn wolf for the first time," Curtis sighs loudly, pouring himself a cup of tea, "You get your wolf spirit and your wolf form in a few seconds. It's easy to feel scared, different, angry, confused, a bucket full of emotions all at the sametime, and it is not easy to control your wolf without the psychic link of the pack, without the familiarity of your families. That's the reason why solo transformation ceremony is highly discouraged."

Chamomile tea is supposed to be soothing, but all you feel right now is bitter remorse of seeking for Curtis' help. You bite back the tears prickling your eyes, unsure why you came to him at the first place when all he does is dismantle your plan into a pile of turd.

"You are saying, there's no way that -" You take a long inhale, keeping yourself calm as much as possible. Yet, on the thought of you and a bunch of girls being the sex slaves of Jason has your tears bursting out of your sockets, streaming down your cheek.

The humiliation, the regret, and the embarrassment knock your brain out cold, and all you could do is to wipe the tears off your face with the back of your hand.

Curtis sighs one more time, before handing you a box of Kleenex.

You refuse it, though, pushing the tissues away and standing abruptly from your chair. "I'm sorry. This is a bad idea." You keep crying and sobbing, and wiping your tears, walking towards the door, "I understand now. I'll be out of your hair."

Curtis clenches his jaw out of ... mixed feelings, he guess. What a stubborn little pup you are, dreaming of delaying the transformation to escape the evil clutches of Jason.

It is inevitable, really, as pack leaders emerge every two or three decades, as the older Alpha weakens from disease and age, while younger Alpha emerges from their transformation ceremonies, and takes over. Sometimes it is a smooth transition of power, other times it could turn out like Jason and Paul, poisoning and scheming.

On a completely irrelevant note, he has to do this. To lend you a hand. A, Curtis isn't a complete bastard, despite what Wilford, the kind and loving Alpha, keeps telling others. And B, ... well, he'd rather not mention the second reason.

But he's not going to stand by and watch you risk your lives either, yours and your wolf's.

He runs his hand down his face, dashing forward and blocking the only exit out of this house because he could. Blocking your chance of running away because he doesn't want you to. And sighs again.

He has probably used up the annual quotation of his sighing.

"Stop." He growls.

It's an Alpha command. A voice that compells low-ranking shifters. It works better with blood ties and mating bonds, ordering the low-ranking ones to obey and deliver what the Alpha wants. It is cruel, that one stronger Alpha could command a weaker Alpha, or weak-minded shifters. He has thought about commanding Jason and Sam to stop, but he doubts it could work, as they could very well tear his throat before Curtis could say anything.

He hates issuing it, on another level. Just like how he hates it when he issued a command to Wilford years ago, ordering the pack Alpha to permit him to stay. Curtis has the power and the strength to be an Alpha. But he hates it. He hates it when his father Alpha-commanded his mother and his younger siblings to do dirty deeds for the Everett pack. Which was why he ran, and initiated the transformation ceremony on his own.

Yet he does it now, just so you might stay.

And you did. You don't know why you did. Your body responded to his words faster than your brain could proceed. Your steps freeze in their tracks, your shoulders shivering, afraid yet submissive to the natural command of an Alpha.

Curtis crosses his arms in utter annoyance and defeat. There is only one way that he know of, that could provide a safe transformation ceremony with less shifters involved.

If he tread carefully, it might work.

Might.

Sneak Peek for Part 2:

Your body can feel it. It is being called to at a wrong time, a wrong place. The moon is dropping low by the second and the right time has passed. The right time was hours ago.

Thirty minutes until the moon descends completely, and you have to get the wolf out.

Curtis paces around you.

"Sit down, will you? It's not like my wolf is counting your steps and waiting for the right number." You snap at him, despite knowing that you have dragged him into this mess in the first place. A little snarl slips out of your lips. Your wolf spirit is awakening, but not quite yet. Not quite there to unleash your wolf form.

Curtis has his gaze zeroing on you. His eyes narrow for a split second before pushing two words out of his clenched teeth:

"Excuse me?"

Find my Cum Together Trifecta here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

A/N2: sorry in advance, but I have come across a hilarious screenshot of a show and I believe - I'm not sure really - it's in Russian

and this screenshot represents my feelings whenever i'm looking back at my works

[sqyyadina]

how much sand can a hand hold?

Pairing: Lady Jessica X Reader

Word Count: 4k

Tags: fluff, smut (with feelings!!!), Jessica!receiving, body worship

Summary: Lady Jessica needs to be held. You're the one to do it.

Author’s Note: She must have put a Bene Gesserit spell on me bc I cannot stop thinking about this woman!! This is also on my AO3!

The torrential downpour of Caladan has always soothed you.

Perhaps it was the soft patter of raindrops against the roof of the Atreides estate or the constant fog hiding your small corner of the world from the wandering eyes of greedy onlookers. The rain silenced your mind better than any Bene Gesserit mind trick or calming tab ever could.

You can’t remember just how it was that you wound up outside, standing in the courtyard of the great house, robe soaked through, shoes long abandoned to better feel the cool concrete against your toes. Your hair, once braided back in the style that all Atreides maids maintained, now fell around your shoulders, wet strands plastered against sun-starved cheeks.

You can’t remember how you wound up here, nor can you remember how long you’ve been sharing space with the elements. The concept of time was increasingly hard to come by these days. Your duke had removed all but one clock from the home, and it towered over the long table in the dining hall, ticking where a portrait of the Old Duke once hung.

The portrait had vanished in an instant, along with other important photographs and large statues that once decorated the halls of your home. The Castle Caladan was slowly beginning to empty out, and yet, you were entirely unsure of where The Duke’s family heirlooms disappeared to. You didn’t want to place your suspicions on a thief— those employed by the Atreides name were too good of people to deal in stolen goods. You’re not one to speculate, and are perfectly content in unknowing, yet a quiet alarm at the back of your head still wails.

Your Lady has taught you well.

Though you’re not properly trained in the Bene Gesserit way, you’ve now spent three years tending to the lady of the house, and you’ve learned far more from her than you ever did from the Mentats that taught you in primary school.

She’s taught you to read people, read their every facial tick, the slight tone changes during conversation. To be a lady’s maid of one of the Great Houses has granted you the near ideal situation to learn about every single politician and army higherup that enters the Atreides fiefdom, all while remaining in the shadows.

You spend so much of your time focused on the way that the duke’s armored patrol discusses everything there is to mindlessly chat about, that restorative time spent standing in the rain is more necessary than sleep.

Even sleep brings no silence.

Your mind is at peace now, focused on the heavy patter of the rain against plasteel and vibrating shields. The courtyard receives few willing visitors, especially this late in the evening, after the great family has fattened themselves and most of their keep has lofted to bed. You very well may be the last one awake on Caladan, all alone in the rain, with only the slow drum of thunder to keep you awake.

There are only a few small lights illuminating the courtyard— you’ve yet to be granted a personal suspensor light despite your years of service— but you’re far from worried. You’ve never once felt scared since you first entered the tall gates of Castle Caladan, and yet when a slim, protective arm sneaks around your waist, a wave of comfort washes over you.

Her head nuzzles into the dip of your shoulder, lips quietly pressing kisses to your water-soaked flesh. Her hands, always probing, wandering, searching for answers just as she was taught, slide under your silk tunic, pressing warmth into the chilled skin of your stomach. You fight the shiver that runs down your spine; you know how your lady will read into every involuntary movement of your body. Yet you don’t care. Lady Jessica has already searched every square inch of your brain, already inhabited and occupied all of your thoughts. You’re entirely her’s, and there’s no need to hide anything.

Your eyes shut, head lolling back to accept her whispered kisses, and you begin to pray to whichever God you’re supposed to pray to that she’ll stay here with you forever.

“Come inside.” She purrs against she shell of your ear, her voice a mere breath, yet she still drowns out the thumping of raindrops all around you. “We need to talk.”

She’s never used the Voice on you, and will never need to. You only exist per Jessica’s request, and your every action is methodically planned to best please the woman you serve.

You take her hand in your own, and she doesn’t pull away. She knows, as you do, that the residents of the home are long gone, and you risk no prying eyes this late into the evening. You are perfectly safe to display your affection for one another, with only the stars looking down on you.

You follow your lady in through the large glass doors, suddenly lit by the warm glow of a bouncing suspensor light. You hold onto her delicate hand as if someone were trying to steal her from you as the two of you move towards her quarters, tracking in water that you’ll be the one to clean up soon enough.

Her garments are clinging to her body, impossibly tight, black fabric now translucent against the curve of her hips. The hood that she hides beneath so frequently now draped down her back, water droplets hitting the floor with each step.

Your heart never ceases its heightened beating when you’re around the lady of the house, even when you plate her meals and refill her wine, you find her presence so very overwhelming. Her softspoken nature and the well-assured manor with which she carries herself is enough to make a young woman fall in love in a second.

And that you did.

She drops your hand, much to your chagrin, when you are safely behind the closed doors of the lady’s bedchambers. Your touchless anguish doesn’t last long though, before the same hand moves to cup your cheek, pushing away the pinwheel curls that have glued themselves against your skin. Her smile is inviting, yet shy, as it always is. Her eyes are dilated, searching for yours in the low light of the room. You return her touch, your shaky hands resting on the apex of her hips, bunching the fabric together to pull her in the centimeter it takes to connect your lips.

Each of your lady’s kisses brings another tear to your heart. They’re hurried and desperate, as if constantly racing against the clock of fate. Jessica’s lips were always warm, always coaxing, as though she were searching you for secrets. You wonder if she kisses the duke like this.

It’s growing increasingly difficult to pull yourself from her, but the way that her body pins you to the heavy door and her kisses become sloppy, inattentive, you force yourself back, panting for breath for a moment.

“What ails you, my lady?” You speak quietly, your hands now moving upwards to envelop as much of the woman’s body as possible, arms holding her like she’s a young fawn ready to flee at any moment.

A small panic racks over Jessica’s face before it drops from view, her forehead leaning to press against your shoulder.

“The emperor has granted the family rule of the spice planet. Arrakis.” Her voice is muffled against your skin, and as you strain your ears to hear her, you note a sense of fear in the Bene Gesserit’s voice.

“Is this not a blessing?” You ask her calmly, a hand raising to the back of Jessica’s head, releasing her hair from its strenuous bun and smoothing the soft hair when it falls. “The Atreides name will become synonymous with power. Is this not what the duke has wished all along?” The lady’s head suddenly snaps up, eyes dark and glistening with the beginnings of tears. “I do not care what the duke wishes.” Her voice is now a low growl, as if she intends to rip Duke Leto apart with her teeth. “This will not bring honor to this Great House. Dealing in Spice will only bring ruin.”

Her eyelids shut tight before the tears are overwhelming, streaming down her angled cheeks like the very rain you’ve just escaped.

“My lady…” you begin, but your words fail you as she begins whispering the Litany. You’ve always hated when she does this. You wish she would feel the wholeness of her fear, especially when she is entirely protected, held tightly in your arms, where she can accept her fear, knowing that nothing will ever hurt her as long as you’re by her side.

Your thumb lightly swipes at the wetness of her cheek, but you deem the action too impersonal, and quickly replace the finger with your lips, sprinkling kisses to each of her freckles. The saltiness of her discarded water tickles at your tongue, and you begin to worry for the lost water, for the way that she will soon yearn for it on the dunes of the desert planet.

“Come with me…” she rasps, her head returning to your shoulder. “To Arrakis.” Her voice is weak, pleading, praying. A short of silence fills the room, save for the pattering on the roof above you. “Please.”

You’re sure that if you were any other member of her staff, she wouldn’t ask such a thing of you. That the rest of the Atreides fief will be easily replaced by whatever thirsty breed of human resides on Arrakis, if there are any habitants there at all. It’s an incredibly heavy demand that she’s laid you, a demand that has made your stomach drop. To abandon your life in the serene halls of the castle, to drop you onto the hottest planet in the system, to dehydrate your life and to fill your palms with sand instead of the green leaves you cherish so much…

It isn’t even a demand worth making.

“Of course. I’ll never leave your side, my lady.” You purr back to her, arms squeezing so tightly around her frail body that you fear you may take all of the air from her lungs.

She returns your embrace, telling you without words how much she needs you, how desperate she is for your presence on a planet that may soon become her final resting ground.

“You’ll catch a cold if you leave these clothes on for too long, my lady.” You hate to break your hold on the woman; these moments are so few and far between that this one might very well need to sustain you for the next few weeks.

Jessica nods weakly, unsticking herself from you, and beginning to undress. You help your lady, as is your job, and now, your only natural instinct. You work in tandem to pull the floor-length gown over the woman’s head, the wet garment falling to the floor with a dejected whump.

She’s left in only her undergarments now, freckled skin glowing in the pale light from Caladan’s moon.

You feel your heartrate begin to quicken once again. Though you’ve seen the lady in this state several times over the years, as it is your job to dress and undress her as many times as she may need to in a day, you’re still left shaken from her beauty every time.

You chew on your lower lip to fight the feelings that have now overcome you, and you toy with the long sleeves draped over your fingers as you avert your gaze to the floor. No one should see the lady of the house like this, not even the duke.

It’s only a second’s time before those skilled hands are under your blouse, tugging it upwards, forcing the fabric off of your body. Jessica’s hands push your skirt over your hips and onto the floor as well, and when you step out of the circle, your lady catches you in her arms. 

You won’t mind the difference in weather on Arrakis as long as you still have a place in your lady’s arms.

She’s nimble, focused, ever working towards a goal. You barely register the way her hands unclasp your bra and work it over the crests of your shoulders, nor the way you’re quickly rid of your underwear.

Her hands are methodical, as though making sure they’ve touched each square centimeter of your shivering skin.

You feel completely vulnerable, standing naked in front of the woman you’re made to serve. Though you’re not embarrassed, not one bit. The way she’s whispering praises in the old Bene Gesserit tongue, her eyes scanning over every little goosebump that’s raised, you can tell how deeply she cares for you, how beautiful she finds you in this moment.

She kisses you, languid and wanting, gripping into your flesh so tightly that you’re sure to be left with a few bruises. Her lips taste of berry, and if you look hard enough, you may notice that they’re dyed a dark purple. She’d been drinking tonight, either to strengthen her mind or to weaken it’s worry.

“My lady…” you manage out between heavy kisses, your hands desperately tugging at her own bra’s clasp, whines escaping your lips when it does not effortlessly unhook. You don’t really have anything to say now, only to revel in the way the words sound leaving your lips. You’d called her such a title with such admiration for so long, now she was your lady.

“Stay with me tonight.” Jessica begs into your lips, praying to you as her hands leave your skin to remove the rest of her clothing.

You swallow in a dried throat, nodding eagerly to the woman who draws you to her bed. She lays flat against the bed, frail body enveloped by the sea of satin sheets and heavy duvet. Sitting above her, eyes and hands frantically searching over the body that’s always so purposefully modest, always covered in yards of expensive fabric, yet now on full display for only your eyes.

You can feel the heat in your face, and are impossibly thankful that for the dim light for hiding your bright pink blush. The heat between your legs, however, cannot be concealed.

Your lady, adoring the innocence in your gaze yet growing increasingly impatient, props herself on her elbows. She hooks a slender finger under your chin, pulling your wonder-filled gaze up to meet her own.

“I’m yours.” She whispers into your lips before greedily biting into them, her familiar kiss burning with passion. The words fill you with a sense of dedication, of true love, which is only coupled with an intense sense of dread when you realize that she will never be wholly yours. That she will always linger on the arm of the duke, no matter what planet you’re on.

A flash of lightning fills the room with a strikingly white light when Jessica pulls you down on top of her. You eagerly sink into her, your wet lips moving from her own down her jawline, reveling in the way her back deliciously arches into your body when you kiss the smattering of freckles that run down Jessica’s neck and lead you to the curve of her breasts. Your hands flatten against her spine, feeling the tense, full muscles of her back.

The way her skin jumps, her muscles spasm… it’s evident that, much like you, your lady has not known the touch of another in quite some time. It breaks your heart, truly. A woman as gifted and as, simply put, entirely bewitching, as she is, deserves to be loved and worshipped every moment that she breathes.

You deem yourself extremely lucky to get to be the one to love her.

You nip at her, knowing that whatever marks you leave on her porcelain skin will be easily covered come morning, but the knowledge of their existence is worth more than anything. You’re staking claim over the woman beneath you, in your own triumph over the man that has done nothing but degrade you for as long as you’ve known him.

The Lady’s svelte fingers are curled tight in your hair, tugging hard, but the pain is welcome. Her breath is hitched, her light moans filling the heavy air around you, though you’ve barely begun your worship of her body. Her whimpers escalate when your kisses make their way to her pebbled nipple, sloppy kisses from swollen lips, lovedrunk from the intoxicating scent of her lavender perfume.

Jessica’s hips begin to buck up into your own, her moans turning to desperate whines, throwing words into the room in a language you don’t understand. When her stuttering voice becomes a bit too loud, you force yourself off of your lady’s breast and connect your lips once again.

“My lady…” You purr, your hips now matching her bucking rhythm, pressing your dripping cunt into her own. “You must be quiet.” A smile pulls on the corner of your lips, understanding that you are now in the position to tease the woman that so frequently toys with you. “You don’t want the duke to hear how his favorite concubine has fallen victim to her lady’s maid, do you?”

You lightly giggle before pressing another silencing kiss to the lady’s lips, but even physically quieting her moans does not do much to keep her at bay. Her begging has made it into your mind whatever Bene Gesserit ability makes her capable of putting thoughts in your head is working overtime. Though she has seemingly reverted to the old tongues now, you understand fully her few weak attempts at pleads.

You slide your thigh between the witch’s legs, tightening your muscles so that Jessica can hump against you while you fight for control of your own mind back. You dip your head, pressing it into the woman’s shoulder blade, hoping that the blood will rush back to your skull, and you will think clearly once again. Or, at least as clearly as you are ever able to when around Lady Jessica.

“Please, my love.” She pants, burying her nose deep into your hair. “Please.”

It’s a true gift to be begged by a Bene Gesserit, especially one so high in command in one of the Great Houses, and you know it. Only a handful of men have ever experienced such a thing, you’re sure. And you’re the most fortunate among them, for you get to hear the genuine pleads of a woman desperate for your touch.

As you’d do anything that your lady requested of you within a heartbeat, her imploring is unnecessary, but delicious for your ears. Your hand swiftly drops to replace your thigh, reveling in the warmth of Lady Jessica’s heat. You release a moan of your own, ignoring your rule of silence, when the first of your fingers slides into your lover with ease.

You bite down on Jessica’s shoulder with hopes to muffle yourself, eliciting a sharp whine out of the woman, and you instantly feel regret behind your decision. You pull your teeth from her flesh, peppering soothing kisses and licks to the red flesh you’ve left behind.

You whisper countless apologies against her skin, but the lady is far too swept up in rocking against your palm to voice her acceptance.

Your second finger glides into Jessica, thumb rubbing circles against her clit. She’s close to undoing, her body spasming with every lightly peppered kiss, every stroke your fingers make. As your thrusting quickens, you feel her clench around your fingers, as though she’s unwilling to let you go. Not that you’d ever go willingly anyway.

Sensing her closeness, you return your kisses to her cheeks, pressing gentle, loving pecks to her beauty marks, wrapping a hand around her jaw to hold her forehead against your own.

“Come for me, my lady.” Your panting breath matches her own as she does just as you’ve asked, her body tensing against you, hands wandering over your flesh to find something suitable to hold onto as she rides through her orgasm.

When Lady Jessica finally hits the back of the bed, her chest heaving and arms fallen to grip into the duvet below her, you remove your hand, creating quite the unbecoming display as you greedily lick her wetness from your fingers.

“You are so beautiful, my lady.” Your voice is low as you drop to lay against her chest, pressing the last of the kisses you can muster before your head drops from its own exhaustion. Your lady is quiet. Her arm is lazily draped over you, hand toying with your hair. Her lips are quivering, as if searching for the appropriate words.

What does one say to your lady’s maid after she’s turned you into a whimpering mess for the entire castle to hear?

“You are incredible, my darling.” She whispers into the room, head dropping to take its place nuzzled into your scalp.

Jessica pulls one of her once discarded blankets over your sweating bodies, turning to envelope you wholly, arms finding comfort wrapped over your shoulders. She yawns quietly into your hair while you match her embrace, eyes shutting when your tiredness from the day truly sets in.

These delicate moments are all you can afford to gift your lady, and while the duke may garnish her with the priciest jewels from across the galaxy, you know that he’s never once treated her kindly, never once given her the gentle touch that she so desperately deserves.

You sleep soundly, knowing that you can at least offer her your softness.

♱

“We’ll have to give up the black dresses.” She meets your gaze in the mirror as you brush through soft hair.

You giggle softly, admiring your shared reflection in the mirror. She’s right, it’s not often that either you or Lady Jessica are spotted outside of your matching black gowns. But unless you both wish to die of heatstroke on your new planet, you may have to find a more suitable color.

“I’ll have your tailor come to meet you by the day’s end.” You hum, placing down the brush to begin tying your lady’s hair back.

“Come to meet us.” She corrects you sternly, yet still in that most endearing voice that constantly makes you swoon. “I’ll have a new wardrobe made for you as well.”

“No, I can’t possibly—” you retaliate, eyebrows turned up as you think of how much money a new desert-safe line of clothing would cost. Especially from the man that Jessica frequently shops from.

You’re cut off by a gentle pinch at your hip, which makes you laugh, though it still upsets you, because you feel so very guilty accepting gifts from her, even though you know it’s the duke’s money she’ll be spending.

“I do hope my eyes don’t turn that awful blue-within-blue.” Jessica’s nose turns up at the thought. You don’t know many who frequently use the Spice Melange, but those that you have encountered, those empty, total blue eyes staring straight into your soul, have not been very kind people.

“Your eyes will be beautiful no matter what. Arrakis could never take your beauty from you.” You smile back to her, placing your hand on her shoulder when you’ve finished the hairstyle that has become second nature to you. You imagine that the dual suns on Arrakis will tan your skin within the week that you’re there. Jessica’s will manifest in more of the lovely freckles that dot her skin, and you will welcome them.

Jessica places a hand atop yours, leaning her head to meet your chest. You feel your chest swell, like she’s taking the breath out of your lungs simply through her touch. You would truly travel to the ends of Arrakis to ensure that the smile that you adore so dearly will always remain on her lips.

You love your fair lady so dearly, and it pains you that you’re the only one that will ever know.

[scribblestatic]

I like the idea of a Narinder that steadily chills out after indoctrination.

Like, of course, the first few days are rough because he's getting used to existing and experiencing life outside of Limbo for the first time in thousands of years. Noises startle him sometimes and maybe the morning sunlight is a bit too bright.

Moreover, his wounds, given to him by the chains that wrapped around him, take a while to stop weeping; to heal and scab over. He was also very unhealthy from his confinement, and so he's quite weak for the first few days.

But as he acclimates, he comes to really enjoy living in the cult.

It's peaceful. Gardening is easy and he quite likes the smell of fresh dirt and growing plants. The mixed fish meal is just another name for ambrosia. The Lamb is actually quite good at playing the drums for the occasional bonfire dance, the beat thrumming in his chest. The grass feels so nice between his toes.

Although thin and gangly before, his old fur sheds out, growing in new, darker, and gleaming with health. His body fills in, and from his increased toiling in the fields, his arms and legs thicken with suitable muscle and protective fat. His tail, once ratty, grows long, fluffy fur.

Narinder becomes incredibly handsome.

Though, having been the god of death for so long, still maintaining his immortality since the Lamb saw fit not to slay him, he still has his senses.

He uses it in his gardening to identify dying plants and finding a way to keep it healthy enough to flourish. Hell, if he focuses enough, whatever remnants of power are still in him allow him to restore life to the plant.

But it's not always fun. After all, he can sense when an elder is nearing the end of their life. After a while of living on the cult, he goes to sit with them, even if he never really spoke to them before. Apparently, his or the Lamb's presence makes death easier for them, and if the Lamb is off gathering supplies, he takes the mantle. Sometimes the Lamb resurrects them, but sometimes the elder requests to die, to rest. Lamb grants them that without complaint.

Narinder watches their souls fade, leaving to seep into the great beyond he's never, in his thousands of years, come to understand in full. It's likely no one ever would.

Regardless, despite not being the most talkative, and often casting an intimidating shadow, Narinder becomes quite beloved in the cult, like a cryptid who somehow dwells in the sunlight. The silent farmer who Lamb dotes on to newer additions to the cult, whether born or found, and the former god of death relieved of his suffering to those who witnessed the Lamb give him mercy.

When he's not farming or eating, you can find him at the Lamb's side, wearing his acolyte cloak, long, fluffy tail curled near or around one of the Lamb's ankles. He leans on the Lamb at times, putting his head on their shoulder as the sheep reaches up to pet him.

Right. Isolation in Limbo. Incredibly touch-starved.

And the Lamb smells very good. Better than anything else.

When he's high on mushrooms, sometimes he'll dutifully groom the Lamb or just knead their wool with his three eyes blown wide, perhaps with his third eyelids peeking at the edges if he's also sleepy.

Of course, he's still caustic. When he's angry, he's incredibly so. He will turn away from company with harsh, short words, but somehow look on with a sense of longing after receiving the space he requested. He snarks at the Lamb about rituals and godhood...but he never once says the Lamb is bad at it. No.

If there's one thing he won't say, it's that the Lamb is bad at godhood.

After all, he's living quite nicely.