#how to grow beard home remedies

[n6ptunova]

how to grow a beard • matt sturniolo

a/n: idk how i feel abt this one and i wanted to do it with chris but i barely write for matt so this is for my matt girls <3

summary: matt thinks his beard is patchy so you offer to help him grow a full beard but it’s not what he expected :)

warnings: nsfw and not proofread.

you walked in on matt in the bathroom with shaving cream on his face and a razor in his hand. your eyes widened as you screamed, “NO MATT DROP THAT!”

he flinched and put the razor down to put his hand on his heart. “don’t do that. you scared the living shit out of me.”

ignoring what he said you grabbed the razor from his hand, “why are you shaving? i love your beard.”

“babe it’s so patchy i can barely call it a beard. it looks stupid.”

“you’re stupid.”

“woahhh-”

“you could’ve just asked me for home-made remedies, i happen to know some very effective ones.” your tone sounding smug towards the end of your sentence. he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“why’re you saying it like that…” he trailed off. “just wash this off your face and meet me in my room.” you winked at him before walking away. he’s never been more confused yet intrigued in his life.

he did as he was told and followed you to your room, shutting the door behind him. “ok now what wer-” you cut him off with a kiss your arms around his neck pulling him as close to you as possible and walking backwards to your bed.

you pulled away keeping your arms around him. he smiled down at you, “not that i’m complaining but where did that come from?”

“wanna know the secret to a full beard?” he nodded for you to go on, “let me sit on your face.”

he was so taken back, his face heating up, “what- i mean yes, but what’s that got to do-” “it’s been proven that if you eat pussy well enough, the juices will help you grow the best beard.”

it finally clicked in his head and he smirked at the thought. “well in that case i’ll have a full beard in no time.” he walks you backwards till the back of your knees hit the bed and he lays you on your back, getting on top of you.

he kisses you more passionately this time, going from your lips to your neck, sucking on your sweet spot making sure to leave a mark. he kisses a trail down your chest, to your torso and right before he reaches your pussy, he turns his head and starts kissing your thighs, gripping them hard as he moves closer and closer to where you need him most.

you can feel his breath against you as you arch your back and quietly whine signalling him to relieve you already. “you’re so eager to help me grow a beard huh?” his voice low as he looked up at you. god this is the best view.

“matt, please.” he chuckled and lowered his head down to lick a stripe from the back to the front then immediately latching his lips onto your clit, sucking and twirling his tongue eliciting a pornographic moan out of you. his dick twitches at the noises you’re making and he smiles against you, you feel his beard rough against your pussy. you’re so glad he decided to keep it.

as he continued his movements with his tongue, he inserted two fingers slowly into you while he sucked on your clit. you grab a fistful of his hair and tug on it causing him to moan and send vibrations that have you closer to releasing.

matt could tell you were close so he sped up his actions. you bucked your hips, whimpering and whining for him to not stop as you reached your climax, legs shaking, breath out of control. he licked you clean collecting all your juices leaving nothing behind.

he came back up to kiss you and you could taste yourself on his lips. he pulled away giving you a small smile, “ready for round two?”

“how about you fuck me instead?”

“oh trust me, i will. but if this patchy ass beard has you like this, then i need a full beard asap.” he lowered his head for the second time. “gotta hear your pretty sounds again, can you do that for me, baby?”

[gloxk]

Mommy’s special Remedy.

Kinktober ♡

A/N: this is something quick for kinktober. Gojo and Reader have a kid(s) (I absolutely adore baby daddy Gojo). I was listening to All Night Long by Thuy (listen to it after the cut. yw.) And when the part that says “Ima kiss both pairs of lips” UGHHH NEED. I love men that will get down and eat you like there’s no tomorrow. Enjoy! Like and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Not proofread. F/M.

filthy smut under the cut.

———————————————————

“Baby, do you think I’d look good with a beard?”. He rubbed his stubble while looking in the mirror. It was early in the morning when you both got out of the shower. Your kids still sleeping in the room next to yours. You grabbed a towel and loosely wrapped it around your body. “Of course you would. You’d look good with anything.” You hummed, leaving a light kiss on his cheek.

“I don’t know, I just might need some help growing it out.” He smirked at you, trailing kisses on your neck. His expression was undeniably promiscuous, his lips stretching from ear to ear. “Sure, I’ll pick you up some beard-growing stuff when I go to the store.” You completely supported his decision, a beard wouldn’t be half bad. You didn’t think it was possible but maybe it would make him more attractive.

“We got a beard-growing kit at home though?” He rubbed your shoulders maintaining eye contact in the mirror. “No Satoru, you’re not using MY hair oil for your beard.” You emphasized “my”. That hair oil was too goddamn expensive to be wasted. “I need mommy’s special remedy. I don’t need any oil. You got exactly what I need.” You were confused about what he meant. You didn’t have a remedy. “What are you talking about? What remedy?” You were unsure of what he meant. You turned to face him, your lips unexpectedly clashing together. “Mmhpm!” You were shocked that he kissed you so suddenly. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. His hands gripped your ass and placed you on the bathroom counter. He slowly kissed your neck while undoing your towel.

He got down on his knees and hummed softly at the sight. His hands began to part you like the Red Sea. He stares at your cunt for a while before he licks your lips. “Toru- it’s too early for this.” you moaned in between each lick he gave you. “Are you denying me breakfast? Is it a crime to eat?” His hands held your thighs in place as his tongue went to work. Licking and devouring each drop of the liquid you expelled. Eating you like it was his last meal. His fingers dived into your heat mixing and mingling with your slick, creating a lewd sloshing noise. “Mm..fuck.” You moaned out as his tongue continued to dance over your clit. He had no intention of stopping until you were begging him. Your fingers indulged in his white locs. Pulling and tugging at them as you were on the break of release. Your mind was infatuated with the pleasure he was giving you. You couldn’t run from his hunger as it somehow found its way to you. It was like being a fish on a hook, no matter how much you tried to pull away he would always reel you back in. His nails dug into your thighs scraping the skin, leaving a brutal red streak. “God I can’t get enough of this.” He growled. Your toes curled as his tongue swirled around your pussy. His fingers thrust in and out of you faster than before.

You were a moaning mess, hollering his name begging for that sweet release. He finally gave you what you craved the most. You threw your head back nearly hitting the glass mirror. His tongue slowed its pace and his fingers slid out of you. He put them in his mouth sucking them slowly in a seductive manner. He made sure your main focus was his tongue wrapping around his middle and ring finger. “You make me fucking insane Toru.” You pulled him closer as you were nearly begging for him to take you right there and fuck you silly. “How do you think I feel about you?” His hand clasped around your breast rubbing his thumb against your nipple. Your hands went to his towel to pull it off while kissing him. “Mhm. Show me how insane you are about me.” Your eyes instantaneously lock together. One thing Satoru knew about you was that your eyes spoke louder than anything. And right now they were screaming “Fuck me.” His hand went straight to your thighs once again, slowly slipping between them.

“Mommy! we’re hungry. Are you gonna make breakfast?” Both of you immediately turned to face the door your child was at. You both shared a look of complete horror. “Oh! Yes, Mommy’s coming. I’ll be right there.” you pushed Satoru away and hurriedly put on your clothes. “Satoru, what do you want to eat?” His eyes were still fixed on your naked body. “I’m full, I’ve had my breakfast.” He winked at you leaving a kiss on your neck. “But if you’re on the menu I wouldn’t mind eating one more time.” His arms wrapped around your waist, trapping you in a long hug. “I hate you,” you mumble under your breath as you put on your panties. “Woah there be careful. last time you said that you got pregnant.” He looked back at the mirror to see your flabbergasted expression. His smug face never changed. He waltz out the door leaving you to soak in what he said.

“The beard better be worth it.” You walked out the door on the way to your kitchen.

——————————————————

I MIGHT make a Part 2. We shall see how well this goes.

[hopefulromances]

can you do “I would die for you. I would kill for you. I would live for you.” with your and f reader please?

Hmmm I hope you don't mind If I play with the quote a little.

I believe you're asking for a Jamie insert? Lmk if this is something different.

Jamie was... dramatic. No dramatic comes off wrong. Jamie feels very deep and very hard. In some cases it made you very happy, like when he praised you with showers of words of affirmation. In others, it made you seriously concerned.

Like when he came rushing home to tell you that people on the internet were bullying him over his hair.

"I like the headband, makes me look cool."

He would need exentive reassurance and cuddles including you running your hands through his hair to make him calm down. Or other times when he got all proud and cocky after a partiuclarlly good game. Though that usually ended up being for the betterment of your sex life.

But what really concerned you was when he wasn't dramatic. When he didn't tell you all the things that were bothering him or the millions of amazing tricks he did at practice. When he came home and went right to bed with out dinner or a shower. That's what really bothered you.

Like tonight. He'd been cooped up in the you bed since he came home early muttering something about practice being cancelled and someone named 'Led Tasso' but you honestly had no idea.

You cracked open the door, peeking inside the room. "Jamie?" He moaned from his spot on the bed. "Jamie, babe, you have to tell me whats going on."

You came over and sat next to him, patting your lap. He rolled out from under the covers and crawled so his head was in your lap.

"Jus', coach was actin' all weird today," he told you, playing with his hoodie strings. "Was mean and such. Like Jekyll and Hyde." He said it with such fear in his voice that you almost laughed but you managed to contain yourself.

You cocked your head trying to imagine Ted Lasso being mean but it couldn't come to mind. You'd have to ask Beard about it later. For now, you pulled his hairband out his hair and mushed it up, letting it relax.

"How did the other boys react," you mused, moving some of the hair off of his face.

"Well, they at least thanked me for standing up for them." He nodded, looking up at you. "Except for Sam... I think I really fucked myself with Sam."

You knew how guilty he felt about Sam. His deep admiration of the footballer came out in anger and jeers when they played together last. Sam had every right to hate Jamie, and to not trust him, but it killed Jamie not to be able to remedy the situation.

"I know... I know..." You struggled to find the write words to console him with. "But whether or not, Led Tasso, or whoever the fuck, accepts you, know that you have changed. And for the better. And I am so proud of you."

He smiled and moved his hand to cup your face. "I would die for you, ya know..." He brought you closer to his face. "Or kills for you, or whatever you wanted me to do."

"Jamie, I would live for you," you replied simply. "And that's all I want from you. Just live your life. Make your mistakes, grow, cause that's all anyone can expect from you."

He smiled at you and tugged you down the rest of the way into a sweet kiss. Yeah, Jamie was dramatic, but he was your kind of dramatic.

[ladyvlolypop]

Bucky Barnes Headcanons

these are both dating and overall head canons, if you think the writing is a little out of my usual type it's because I wrote these while

My Masterlist

Bucky Barnes x gn!reader; sfw

Very gentle, his touches are very soft and he tries to avoid being harsh with you, knowing he’s way stronger than you(and because he’s unsure of his metal arm).

When he passes you he gives you subtle touches, his hand on your hip or waist for a brief moment.

He used to smoke when he was a soldier. Heavy smoker and drinker but he never touched a cigarette again after he became the winter soldier, not because he didn’t want to but he just didn’t want to be addicted to anything.

He can definitely speak and understand bits of german and italian because he was stationed in Austria and Italy during the war. He speaks french as well but much better(we love a multilingual king)

He understands russian perfectly but struggles to speak or write/read it. He understands bits of other slavic/balkan languages as well(if you speak russian freshen up his skills a little pls)

He sometimes still stares in awe at modern things, he imagined the world differently in the 30's. Will sometimes tell you how certain spaces changed and how they used to look like back in the day.

He likes to tell you about his childhood, liking to compare how you two grew up

Has lots oft things to catch up to

Has a flip phone w a loud ass ringtone

Jumps a little when hearing his ringtone

He has a smartphone for work but he barely uses it

Loves fantasy shows/movies and reading

LOTR and GOT fan honestly

Likes baking and cooking but he’s not good at it, he’s thankful for microwaveable meals and your cooking

Can’t ride a bike

Can’t drive, learned it just before infinity war happened

He probably let his his metal arm get hot in the sun and cracked an egg on it with sam

It fried

You only call him 'James' if it's serious or if it's to tease him

will use nicknames like "Doll", "Babygirl", "Honey","Darlin'(g)" or "Dear" for you

Uses lotion for his scars

would fold if you did it for him, def will offer to do the same for you(he gives really good messages let him)

Has a routine for his beard when he lets it grow out, likes to keep himself groomed

Same for his hair

Has insane home remedies

Pulls out chernobyl broth when you have a feet ache(boils sprite)(He read about it on facebook)

Doesn’t trust italians

He’s such a dad

Dad jokes all the way

Enjoys shopping for home gadgets

Knows how to haggle and will show his skills when he can

Will often come home with surprise groceries or gifts, things or snacks you like or some other stuff he got on sale

Likes to go to flea markets

Sometimes comes home with large amounts of certain products

Man will come home with 3 boxes of fruit because there was a sale

Love language is definitely gift giving and acts of service

Carries your bags or groceries for you without asking, pretty good at fixing things around the house

He’s good with kids, wants his own but unsure when the right timing for it would be

He sometimes shows them tricks with his metal arm

He’s not much of a talker unless you two are alone

Often rants about work

Good listener though, very attentive listener

He sleeps like a bear, very warm and keeps close to you, his arm cools down at night though and you might wake up with the feeling of cold metal against your belly

He started sleeping better when you were with him, still you will sometimes find him sleeping on the floor in the mornings, old habits die hard.

He’s very stubborn, especially if it's about your safety but he hates arguing with you

He hates the possibility of you getting hurt in any way

You're on his mind all the time

walks around with the thoughts of "would Y/N like that? Should I buy them that?"

first thing he does when coming home after missions is give you a tight hug

if it's really bad all he wants to do is hold you closely and cuddle for hours

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

if you think the writing is a little out of my usual type it's because I wrote these while on a call with my bsf and she was poorly singing lana del ray songs in my ear, some of these hc were even here ideas

[atranswomansdiary]

Day 47

July 22, 2020

I am not a man… And I don’t think I ever was.

This is ridiculous and preposterous, I know, but it is not as stupid as it reads, I promise.

I was born a man because I was born with a penis. I don’t think there’s anything deeper than that. I don’t believe doctors actually examine your DNA and make sure your chromosomes match your sex—unless there are problems, of course. But, I think we can all agree, even if they did, a human being is not only whatever sexual genetic material their cells contain, aren’t they?

From then on, no one ever asked me if I wanted to be man. Of course they wouldn’t! I was too young to understand the concept, wasn’t I? So, because I was too young to process what was going on, the logical thing was just to assume I was a man. You’re born with a penis? You’re a man.

The problem, however, is that not everyone born with a penis is a man.

As far as I know, people whose gender doesn’t align with their sex—or, in the simplest words, people who have penises but aren’t men or have vaginas but aren’t women—are a minority, yes. And yet any reasonable person, I think, would agree that having that possibility alone should mean that parents, families, and society in general should be open about this and inform their children about it, right? Just to let them know that the possibility exists and that, if it is so in their case, that there are alternatives—reasonable, scientifically-proven ways—of remedying any feelings of inadequacy or general discomfort with their own bodies. After all, they’re only children. They supposedly don’t know better, but adults do. The same way we explain them every other fucking thing in the universe, from atoms to praying to an invisible bearded white man in the sky.

FUCK!

So, you grow up and, at least in my case, I never had any information about this little thing that I’ve come to know as gender dysphoria. My parents were progressive enough to talk to me about sex and relationships, but not about this. I studied in one of the most prestigious schools in the country I grew up in—and I specialized in sciences in high school, so I had the best possible education(?) on the matter—and no one ever fucking even mentioned the existence of trans people. I went to university and studied a bunch of shit, met and saw lots of people, and never in my godsdamned life had even the opportunity to learn about this. I didn’t get to have internet at home reliably until I was 24, but I was still able to teach myself a language, learn about a shit ton of things, buy books on the most diverse of topics—and in various languages—but this specific, vital knowledge was never accessible for me. And I’ve never been a slouch when it comes to research for fuck’s sake! I read (a not very good translation of) Kant’s Kritik der reinen Vernunft when I was 17 years old because I was able to borrow a copy from my school’s library. And yet, somehow, someway, I was never taught about trans people.

The closest I ever got in whole life before I was 30 were a) cross-dressers (what the people around me called "transvestites") and b) the notion of intersexual people.

How can it be possible that a decently informed human being, one who read newspapers since they were able (and could afford) to do so never learned about gender dysphoria and/or trans people?

At the top I said that human beings are not only whatever their DNA says they are. So, it follows, I think, that there must another dimension, non-biological—at least in that sense of the word—that determines them.

That is what people in the biz call “psychology”, I’m told.

So: if being born with a penis is not sufficient reason to be a man, then there must other aspects that complete this definition. Psychological, social, political, philosophical, and even ontological, perhaps? This is not something new or revolutionary and, if you don’t want this messy version of the idea that I’m putting forward, I can’t recommend you Judith Butler’s Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity (1990) enough. Butler is orders of magnitude more intelligent than I am and writes way better than I ever could on the subject.

So, my poor (wo)man’s version of the issue of gender—as it pertains to me, at least—is as follows. Biologically I am man—AKA I have a penis—but, in almost all other areas of manhood (so to speak), I’m a total and absolute failure, both by my own and other people’s admission. But this isn’t really about “manhood performance”, no. My focus is, instead, on level of comfort/identification with it.

And this is the one area where my dysphoria has been most evident and I can actually trace it back the longest. I never identified as a man, in a manner. I knew that’s who I was supposed to be, on a very subconscious and obligatory level—similar to my reluctant acceptance that my family was my family, whether I liked it or not—but feeling like, happy about it? Nope. Never. Maybe a couple of times during my Conan-esque months, but at that point even I was able to discern that it was more of a pose or an attitude than really something deep and meaningful. It was something that came from the outside in, instead of the other way around.

So that’s why I say that I’m not a man and I probably never was. I was born a human male, that is the truth, but a man? Nope. I don’t think I ever felt comfortable nor identified with that gender label. What’s worse, I didn’t have the language to express my discomfort, anxiety, and sometimes erratic behavior. I was always a “dissident man”, internally, emotionally, psychologically, and affectively long before I discovered that I was also a dissident on a social and even political level.

The tragedy, of course, are the 34 years of my life that took me to realize this. To put these feelings and ideas into words. It’s my whole fucking life we’re talking about! And what’s worse, of course, is that I fear it may be too late. What chances do I have at 34? My body has already been deformed by years of mistreatment, male hormones, and general decay. What hopes and dreams can I foster? I’ve been researching and most people transition when they’re in their late adolescence, early adulthood. I’m ancient, in comparison.

Biologically, I can’t believe that my body will be malleable enough. Psychologically, I don’t think I have the strength of mind necessary to withstand the abuse most trans people undergo every day. Imagining losing my mother’s love, my father’s hard-earned approval, and my siblings’ affection terrifies me. And what about the rest of society? How would I deal with all the nazis that want trans people dead or worse? I don’t think I could. And what about my new job? I like it so much—it’s pretty much perfect, especially since I feel most of the people I get to work with like me well enough—but I don’t think a single one of those persons would accept me if I changed.

I’m not even sure if my lifelong friends or newlymet ones would, to be honest.

So, this is nice and all, but it doesn’t change a single damn thing. I’m still where I started. I’m trapped. No way out. I may now know “the truth about myself”—if there is such a thing—but it doesn’t change a fucking thing. Nice thoughts and feelings, but they’ll have to remain that. They must remain that.

Maybe one day I’ll find someone I feel confident enough to share this secret with. And maybe in sharing that secret I’ll be free, at least for that brief moment. An island of relief amidst a sea of sorrow.

Until then, with love,

ZZ

[experimentalbuild]

Don't let being a coward stop you from playing Alan Wake 2!

Hey there! Are you a coward? Are you a little scaredy cat? A little baby bitch boy afraid to play scary video games?

I used to be, but now I'm Brave, all thanks to Alan Wake 2!

Hi. My name’s Tommy. You may not know me, but I play video games and then write about them as Experimental Build. I'm here to tell you that even if you're a coward like me, YOU too can play Alan Wake 2!

Here’s me before I played Alan Wake 2:

Jesus Christ, look at this guy. You can just tell he's a baby when it comes to scary games. He's got that look in his eyes that says “I couldn't play Fortnite after they added zombies that one time because the jump scares were too much for my weak, little heart.”

And it's true! I’ve always been a coward when it comes to video games! I struggled through parts of Batman: Arkham Asylum because some of the areas were too dark! The morgue section nearly made me quit the game!

The moment I heard the words “Alan Wake 2 will be our first survival horror game,” from Remedy in their announcement of the game, I was out. Survival horror is an impossibility for me. 

But, son of a bitch, EVERYONE wouldn't shut up about how great it was! It was endless praise! “The greatest video game moment of the last decade,” people said! I had to experience it for myself.

Reader, I'm so glad I grew the courage to play the masterpiece that is Alan Wake 2.

Here's a picture of me after playing Alan Wake 2:

Holy shit. He’s growing a beard now! He’s so fucking cool. Look at that confidence just dripping from those icy blue eyes. This dude ain't afraid of NOTHING.

So what happened? How did I go from being a tiny little baby to a confident manly man?

The secret, dear reader, is that Alan Wake 2 is NOT that scary! …If you play on the easiest difficulty mode like I did.

Alan Wake 2 doesn't have traditional survival horror chase sequences. It doesn't have those moments where you have to hide from or run away from something chasing you.

You play as two characters with guns and a flashlight. On the easiest difficulty mode, all it takes is one flashlight blast and a couple of bullets and most enemies go down! YOU HAVE THE POWER OVER THE MONSTERS.

You’re not trapped in the Dark Place with them, THEY’RE TRAPPED IN HERE WITH YOU.

But what about inventory scarcity? What about running out of ammo? HA! On the easiest difficulty you are just SWIMMING in guns, bullets, and flashlight batteries.

“But Tommy,” I hear you say in your quiet, timid voice, “What about jump scares? They make me scream and then everyone laughs at me.”

Yes, there are jump scares that take up the entire screen and make a scary sound and a few instances of enemies bursting through walls to attack you, but 95% of enemies announce their presence with a voice line from dozens of feet away! They're practically saying, “Hey Tommy! Come over here and shoot me in the face!”

The only thing I was screaming while playing Alan Wake 2 was “I’M NOT AFRAID ANYMORE!” like Kevin McCallister at the end of Home Alone.

Listen, I'm a changed man after playing Alan Wake 2, a better man. Just ask my wife.

“Tommy is a changed man since playing Alan Wake 2,” she said. “He's a better man.”

Don't let your fears ruin your dreams of playing Alan Wake 2! As long as you play on the easiest difficulty, you can be just like me! Be strong! Be Brave! I believe in you! Go forth and experience the masterpiece! 

[phantomofagoodtime]

Robert Hale

FC: Andrew Lincoln

Age : 38

Gender : Male

Sexuality : Bisexual (not as confident being with men)

Species: Human with werewolf abilities

Bio: Robert is a hardworking individual, who can be a little stubborn at times when it comes to getting the job done. The job in question is that Robert is a police officer, has been for a few years now but he will at times go past protocol if it means saving people, this is what gets him in trouble but because of his high success rate they keep him on. He is also quite charming which helps when he gets himself into trouble; when he isn’t working Robert enjoys hiking and sports. A gentleman at heart but he also won’t hesitate to tell you how he really feels about a situation either. He often comes home with a few bruises and cuts, sometimes lets his beard grow out as well but this is mainly because of how busy he gets than personal choice, he is often described as a 'raggedy old man'.

Robert moved from America to a small town in Canada, the change in weather and general societal norms was a breathe of fresh air for him, alongside that Robert had more secluded space to contain his secret. For as long as Robert could remember, he had been burdened with the ability to transform into a large wolf, usually on command. Of course, this level of control only came to him after a lot of practice. It was a miracle he was never discovered in his younger years. Other than this ability, Robert often does his best to avoid full moons as it brings out a completely uncontrollable form out of him. This is where his true 'werewolf' form is shown, once the moon's rays of light hit him then he is forced to transform into a 7ft tall anthropomorphic wolf with a first for blood. Given modern technology and medicine, he can easily keep track of the moon's phases and use a herbal remedy to surpress the transformation for a few hours if he is ever caught outside.

He has learned to live with this condition and keeps the secret very close to his heart, he does not share this with anyone for obvious reasons. He uses it to his advantage and has become the small town's personal, but unknown guard dog from all things supernatural that come lurking to prey upon the kind, innocent residents that live there.

Robert's Wolf Form

1.4 metres tall.

greyish black fur coat.

Golden eyes.

[libidomechanica]

I took him out

A limerick sequence

               1

I took him out. While times endure to give up smoking for the iewell. And    none a word. For Love may    die. That a matter what you say. To me aside each other.

               2

Is worse from God than from all high places, lived upon the swamp for a frog.    With meaning to you changed    yourself arriving at your lovesick land that quickly fades.

               3

And of my rurall musick holdeth scorne at me: for pittied is mishappe,    that Ill may turn beside    remote Shalott. With somebody else all night not go free, ah!

               4

The garlands fade that hour with love. With anguish in. That soothe the same. And struggle    on without a toga    or a scarf on a couch as dare approaching, were at all.

               5

A pear from a tamarisk near two Proctors leapt upon us, crying:    help! A honey tongue; which    watch not one; a touch of all these forests, my state more be said?

               6

As to do no thing admir’d! In another skin: I am pure onion—    pure union of outside    and Prejudice, in which the hungry generative error.

               7

Or whether or not the cause of her pap and gum, rich beads of amber here.    My sister and my star!    Which all worn out, a man I came home, the crowd.—First look, first child?

               8

But buried in the river among the taxing rocks. What the other’s Eyes,    and almost spent, all is    Venus, save unchaste. Before their bodies merely for babble.

               9

No sun, but a shell in. With Heydeguyes, and Counter-turn, and Strokonoff,    meknop, Serge Lwow, Arsniew    of modern preacher, and then the same men of the wise, and me.

               10

They say, into her beauties which is inseparate, discontinuous lanterns.    And by their enemy    is beat or beaten, if you would find some way we belong.

               11

Goes by to tower’d Camelot. From hence immortal man, as purple pomp,    nor ride a moon-white steed.    Example field to follow thee. Last nights a funeral fire.

               12

More fear’d than all the water-side, singing shreds. But dreams the final sign the    cob. The hand had collapse,    a small knuckles and the noon’s repose. Ears: how he’d had a wish.

               13

Long since I see my blisse, till a morbid hate and scorn fill with tears like a    woman. But if you’d express    train passing hour, till thy wished smile thy mother’s pangs o’erpay.

               14

Of thee, that nas remedie, but wilt new warre vpon thine own influence, from thee!    All you what is not always    face, and drank the air of her sorrow, has e’en right without.

               15

No shape suggested this, t is truth, the ground with a hangman’s snare strangle    with their caps; you are    divided loves and the forests. Beard, and fruictfull flocks from straying.

               16

No more shall if that dainty cheere thou toldst mine eyes, like glitter. To cut the    tear comes to this old thorn,    this pond and beauty, and up the words thou sing, and, in its snare.

               17

Not let you grow. But for the little urn. The God of shepheards other three    long years they bene hyred    for thine arms, be mine; and I remain with my favorite vow.

               18

But say there were thus honour once; she wept her true eyes blind but with some grand    fight to see. The Warders    strutted up and down to overtrodden transport rose and fell.

               19

Whether from the spheres their pupils like when some one in his face was far as    I could to where shepherd’s    tongue, these days, and see a drunkenness. The passing hour, till then?

               20

Not often when you are shepheards hart made bleede, that this is so much for all:    and the while his brutal    scorn—what if that sickening thirst for glory! Let’s contend no more.

               21

The chiel maun be patient—all for thee. There is no thoroughfare. Alone and    pale, no sun, but a simple    flower, and heavily from heaven is withereth too.

               22

Which prisoners called but half a kiss, the brave man with his learned hedde, I soone    wasted: the blossom’d sloe    my dear, so make the Past so sweet a sleep. That hand, with a sword!

               23

High on a mountains; meseems I feel a noisome scent, the mortal looks at    you again. To carry    into Deed mine own land, ’ she said, but shortly he had forgot.

               24

The pin at the days that are mute! But by the greene leaues, the rail has been a    thing as a perfect ore    limbs, its little infant thus! Thy maysters mind is changed to know.

               25

But oh, ye goddesses of war, or, falling hot and rot, within a    cannonade alone in fact,    I put a chair against whole million dye. Nature’s deep being!

               26

And landskip, have I wonne. My face in the very weel aff to be woo’d and    married the fondness of    noble thought, to march in ranks of better, then others glory.

               27

His crickets stirred from her lip? Palms and fox-terriers. For he to whom none    spake, half-sick at heart,    remembered kisses drying up his rays from your bonny blue een.

               28

A cloudwhite crown of pearl she dight, and did think that seeth faults, not with flutes of    Fear, and binds one with his    mayd. Time drives the lovers, made new, prepared fascines, and rain.

               29

Ah deare Lord, and all thy spirit seem. I can create Ideas in the    dark kept itself with her    sobs, melissa: trust me, Sir, I pitie. She only warmth of loue.

               30

Such end perdie does all hem remayne, that some good bits are in every limb, what    should still reigne. All these ill-    changed to long since, before and could not been Hercules his shape.

               31

That in the noon-sun, with every prison fare, for fear that glister’d in due    order. Ah, what can ail    thee, when the batters after deathsong, the Lady of Shalott.

               32

When the grueling mile-and-a-half Belmont Stakes. Memory deathless tree, of    blood he cleansed the shroud in    which he doth these male thunder of a poet’s debt; and therefore?

               33

I wish is understood and tear our pleasure scawled still, but the night we    walked, with all alacrity:    the first Man took him out. But ah false freendship bene fayne.

               34

Who watch him night away, there is nothing could be ne’ertheless a slight    substratum. And now tis buried    deep her wide eyes fix’d on Camelot. ’ Skimming down the bough.

               35

Which I new pay as if not paid before. But in her a Jonah’s gourd, up    in one of those by    hopelessly as I, that many a thing I know; but to my fate.

               36

On Death and love. Lovers, forget you present poem—of—I know not whether    he came to be disposed    of in a way so new, although our hospitality.

               37

Hears her ever chanting cheerly, like a nick in a knife, driven by your    being crown’d with many    a fine boy. Dead, long debate; but I began to thrid the muse!

               38

And thother for the faring stars. Beauties mine did draw, and to gain her bed.    Haste, little weeks in which    dwell on Parnasse hight, doe make their time, till Christ came down to save.

               39

And then not understand, simple and faithful as we are. Trapped your heart which    is not here; false-flatt’ring    hope, that soft incense hangs upon them his slow brow and his guide.

               40

No leaves returning, the while the vegetable love should he haue ioyed at this    shall sound my boyish dream    involved and dame, to the other’s Eyes, and gold and grieve to see.

               41

And change the law, but the steps, and thee. The invisible echo, and why    he looked, the animals    of your soil, that nought so deadly sweats; now an ague, then walking.

               42

With Daffadillies dight, that he was wildly clad; her eyes I stood and I    love you my nudist the    new way. He deal in frolic, as tonight—the song might have guessed?

               43

Nearly strangers, from so pure, so keen her sense, that Christmas when it is clomb    on high in his body    displaie, how would have been together drinking soul. He with the knife.

               44

Painfully quivering sealed off in a tin box. Stella, whence doth fill the    valorous Smiths’ whom were    drawing their smell into a camp: I know of a babe you trace.

               45

A motherly care of her face, in truth in every star, and ev’ry life    but mine recall. And in    their flockes fleeces, them to araye. I found, whome winter’s wreckage.

               46

Knight and morn the flocke, so that might be undone. Sad case, as you can using    giraffe stretch of mud and    saw. I want to arrive this seed, this wretched a vulture throat.

               47

She answered coldly, Good: your oath is broken heart into the hearts were mute    among green leaves; Fled is    that are ye? From the while thy mother’s right. If I had despise.

               48

Will doe, as did befall, led forth her gaunt and blind the whole thing, whose pleasures    doth reproue, my fancy. Is    worse from God than from all others, and the griefs alike resign.

               49

No things are blest. A faint pink-bronze glow. Life, whom you ignored for another’s    guilt! Or I shall be new    and nerve-twitched pose, fingering day; but I never will you serve?

               50

Your sickness made me a grave so rough, me, that watches there is love had brought    her mantle and good? Least    night and known at last my work and full of weak point: my Lady.

               51

And honey wild, and comes out, first just casually cantering water. It’s    a journey … and I want    to love, or how: but be glad as soon wither, soon forgotten.

               52

But now is come to ye, my lad, o whistle, an’ I’ll come to ye, my lad,    o whistle, an’ I’ll come    to ye, my lad. That I want to say too: I take it all back.

               53

Whose power to reach my mind. As I all others, I’ve heard her character’d    with mine do overflow    this work, not one; a touch of all the water was freezing way.

[powergummies12]

How to Grow Beard Faster & Naturally at Home?

These tips and remedies are quite simple and require minimal time and effort. Also, as mentioned, the consumption of beard gummies can be beneficial. It can even be seen as a patchy beard solution. Our “Dapper Hair & Beard” gummies are a complete package for all beard lovers.

[vilaspatelvlogs]

आधी-अधूरी दाढ़ी से हैं परेशान, इन घरेलू नुस्खों का करें इस्तेमाल, फर्क देखकर रह जाएंगे हैरान!

आधी-अधूरी दाढ़ी से हैं परेशान, इन घरेलू नुस्खों का करें इस्तेमाल, फर्क देखकर रह जाएंगे हैरान!

नई दिल्ली: युवाओं में दाढ़ी बढ़ाने का ट्रेंड और फैशन चल रहा है, लेकिन कई लोगों को दाढ़ी बढ़ाने में दिक्कतें आती हैं. आज हम आपको कुछ ऐसे घरेलू नुस्खे बताएंगे जिनकी मदद से आपकी दाढ़ी की ग्रोथ पर असर पड़ सकता है. प्याज का रसदाढ़ी बढ़ाने में प्याज का रस काफी फायदेमंद है. एक रिपोर्ट के मुताबिक प्याज के रस में बालों के विकास और उन्हें उगाने में मदद प्रदान करने का गुण पाया जाता है. बढ़िया दाढ़ी पाने की…

[msterjedigranger]

Sunburnt | Obi-Wan Kenobi

A padawan close to being a Jedi Knight is training harder than ever. Her master had her fighting out in the sun for hours and she went home that night with a nasty sunburn. Lucky for her, a sweet Jedi master had just the remedy.

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x (18+) F!OC

Warnings: Smut

Word count: 1.4k

Not my gif.

▼ The air was hot and the sun was beating down on her cheeks. She knew she was already burnt and red from being outside all day, but there was training to be done. At least, that’s what her master told her. 

When she finally lost her first lightsaber spar of the day, she was released to get dinner and go to bed. 

Her room was dark and cold, the perfect remedy for the end of the day. Though her skin was still hot from the sun, she could feel it radiating off of her. 

When she finished her shower, there was a knock at the door. The feeling of the towel on her sunburnt skin stung, but she answered. 

To her surprise, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi was at the door.

“Oh–master, I–sorry, let me get some clothes on,” she stuttered, almost dropping her towel. She slammed the door in his face, further embarrassing herself. 

“Stars, I am such an imbecile,” she muttered, grabbing clean robes from her drawers.

Master Kenobi knocked softly on the door, “Aria, don’t put any clothes on that burn. I’ll be right back, I have some cream for that.”

Aria cleared her throat, “Uh–tha–thank you!”

The minutes that Obi-Wan spent fetching the cream were the longest of her life. She sat at the edge of her bed, still in her irritating towel, bounding her knee and looking at the door every ten seconds.

When the knock finally sounded she leaped off the bed and swung the door open.

“Master Kenobi, I am so sorry. I didn’t know it would be you, I thought it might be Ahsoka or one of the other padawans. If I had known–” she stopped when he held up his hand.

“It’s alright, young one. No harm done, expect that burn. Here, let me–”

Before she knew it, Master Kenobi was smearing sub burn cream on her cheeks, then her shoulders.

“Master, there’s some on my back,” she asked quietly. She turned around, moving her hair out of the way. 

She waited for his hands to meet her back, but they never did. When she turned around, his eyes were closed as though he was concentrating.  Raising an eyebrow, she looked him up and down, wondering if something was wrong.

Well, nothing was wrong, but apparently, someone else had come to the party. 

There was a large bulge in his hands and it seemed as though his impromptu meditation was working as it began to become less hard and less noticeable. 

“Master Kenobi?” she asked, but after she spoke it began to grow once more. 

Obi-Wan’s blue eyes met hers and she almost gasped at how dilated they had become. When he realized that she was aware of what was going on, he closed the cream and laid it on her bed.

“Excuse me,” he said, leaving the room in seconds. 

–

The days that had passed after that were long and hard, but Aria’s mind was on only one thing. Master Kenobi’s girth.

Her master began to grow impatient with her and suggested they break for the day, even though it had only been a few hours. 

“My apologies, Master Safara. I will meditate and clear my head and be ready to concentrate tomorrow,” she told him.

Master Safara laid a hand on her shoulder, “It’s alright, child. Even I have become frustrated. We will come together tomorrow with a clear goal and peaceful minds. Deal?” She nodded.

In her room, she lay on her bed, mind wandering about the great Jedi master and how awful she felt about her burning desire for him. 

To have his hands running along her body and his face between her legs. She could almost feel his beard tickling her thighs. 

A soft moan passed through her lips as her fingers found her slit. She rubbed her clit and fingered herself slowly, how she wanted him to. 

Her back arched as she neared her climax.

She was so close–and there was a knock at the door. 

Her hand immediately stopped and she gathered herself as best as she could before opening the door. 

“Master Kenobi,” she said, surprise eminent in her voice. 

Obi-Wan stood awkwardly with his hands behind his back, “May I come in?”

She only nodded, stopping her jaw from dropping. 

“I would like to discuss the other day when I brought you that cream. Has it helped?” he asked once the door was closed. 

“Yes it has, Master Kenobi, thank you.” Her sunburn was merely a tan at that point, the peeling had only lasted a day.

Obi-Wan felt himself losing control already, something very against his nature. He had to force his eyes from wandering down her figure. Her full lips and sparkling eyes hardly helped his case, though.

“I wanted to apologize for what you had to endure. It was quite unbecoming of me and I feel guilty that you have had to live with that memory.”

Aria shook her head, “I didn’t mind.” 

She chose her next words carefully, “I have been thinking about it, but not in the way I should.”

He rose a brow, “How do you mean?”

She swallowed, “I do not feel…uncomfortable, like how you may think I do. In fact, I feel quite the opposite, Master.”

The tension between them got thicker by the moment as she took a few steps closer to him.

“Do you think fulfilling these desires might help us rid ourselves of them?” she asked

They both knew the answer.

Obi-Wan let out a long breath, “You have desires?”

Aria bit her lip and nodded slowly, “Just before you came I was…indulging myself on the thoughts of us together.”

Obi-Wan was sent over the edge. He closed the space between them, grabbing her hips hard and planting his lips on hers. The kiss was hot and messy as she tangled her fingers in his auburn hair and lifted her leg around his waist. 

He picked her up and laid her on her bed, crawling on top of her. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he mumbled into her lips, his cock growing in size as she wiggled her pants off her legs.

She ignored his comment and began undoing his pants, releasing all she had wanted for days. 

“If you want me, Master Kenobi, take me. We don’t have much time,” she whispered, stroking his cock as her heat grew wetter by the second. 

“Stars, Aria,” he grumbled, positioning himself at her entrance. 

She let out a loud moan as he entered her followed by his hand covering her mouth. 

“Quiet down, padawan, the council will hear.”

But she couldn’t control her mouth so he kept his hand there as he ravaged her. Her hands scratched down his back, something he would have to hide later.

“Fuck, Aria, fuck,” he moaned as he grew closer to his climax. 

She was a hot, sexy mess beneath him. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and her walls tightened around him. He took his hand from her mouth, resulting in her loud scream bouncing off the walls. 

He kissed her once more as he finished inside her, riding out his orgasm and fondling her heat so she could finish hers. 

The two lay next to each other for a moment after they were done, thinking about what they had just did.

“But it felt good,” he whispered, stroking her leg up to her ass.

Her eyes fluttered closed, “It was amazing. I feel like I could spar my master right now and win for weeks.”

“So it helped,” he asked, rolling to his side.

She smiled cutely at him, “I think it could become a necessity to get me through my training, Master Kenobi.” ▼

So, not my most amazing work yet, but it feels great to get back into it! Here's to hoping there are little typos and that you enjoyed it!

[kakusu-shipping]

i read your post about leshy not realizing kaycee's fate and everything and GOD MY HEART OWCH OWIE ITS ANGST HOURS TONIGHT OWE OWE OW????

i already loved this man and now my heart is crying

how dare. oh, the only remedy that can heal this grievous wound is to hear about your headcanons on this winkly tree man u.u

(hope youre doing well by the way)

-redacted-scrybe

@redacted-scrybe Big same bestie, I think about Leshy and Kaycee every day now

Sorry for the wound, I shall patch it with softer Leshy thoughts, I have many all of the time anyway

I am in the camp of deer in headlights Leshy

Stands with his hands raptor clawed to his chest when outside his comfort zone, which is almost everywhere

He's either completely mentally checked out or hyper aware of every movement like a prey animal

VERY jumpy. A single loud noise sends him in three fit in the air. He could watch a glass fall off a shelf and the shatter would still startle him

Grimora takes extreme advantage of this, she adores bullying him with loud noises or suddenly touching him when he's not expecting it

ZOOMIES!!!!!!!!!!

Especially during big storms. Lighting!!! Thunder!! Rain!!! Mud!!!

The electric feeling he gets is uncontrollable he has to run all though the forest during storms

He'll come back when the rain stops soaking wet and covered in mud and still just a little buzzy

When not in GM mode he has a stutter when speaking, it gets worse the faster he tries to talk, he talks faster the more anxious he is

No stutter when info dumping though

You can tell by my multitude of Leshy X Readers that I fully believe he is in love with his player and this continues to stand

He loves them. Romantic, platonic, familial, or some indistinguishable mix of them all, he cannot tell, but he loves them more than anything else

He has a tail. It wags. He thinks it's embarrassing and ruins his scary villain aesthetic

He really really really wants to be the bad guy in a story let him be the villain ignore his cute little muttering he is the evil mastermind of this sick twisted game!

I think the headcanon of him slam dunking Grizzlies is common but what about him babying the shit out of Grizzlies?

Like yes he COULD suplex a 600 pound Grizzly, but he could also cradle it gently and give it head scratches and kiss it good night

He probably wouldn't do that though; I think he thinks very highly of his beasts

He does not see himself as their lord, simply their scrybe, he does not command or rule the beasts, he knows them, and tells others of them

His biggest pride and joy is his wolfs packs. There's currently 5 packs in his woods, each averaging 7-10 strong.

They are what he would consider the lords of his woods. They make the rules, and he follows

He will however brood the shit out of any orphans the Trapper brings him, if he can't find a surrogate mother

Catch him with a litter of racoon kits in his beard

On that note he's done the same thing with caterpillars

They are nesting they are eating they are sleeping and they are metamorphosing in his beard and he will not disturb them

Leshy soaks up water like a sponge he is a tree and can get very bloated and waterlogged after a rainstorm

He has to spend a full day in direct sunlight after that or he risks some of his limbs rotting

Which isn't a big deal but it can be a pain to regrow

Even more of a pain though is the new growth he'll have after absorbing so much nutrients

He looks like a taller Magnificus if he just lets it all grow out

Leshy likes to wander while thinking and doesn't really pay attention to where he's going

Luckily he's memorized every inch of his woods and never gets lost while at home

But if he's anywhere else he will wander himself away and get horribly lost

He'll also walk directly into things because he may be looking ahead but he is not seeing he is thinking

Full John Mulany "I am looking out the window. But no. I'm thinking about the Beatles."

Has just has the worst tunnel vision

You could stand right next to him and he will simply not see you he is thinking about his game and his lore

Also he purrs if you pet him but he's not use to physical affection so he panics at contact and it'll take him a moment to settle into it

[author-morgan]

Hi there! So I have a request for Eivor if it hasn't already been requested yet and if you have the time. Since I've started to play the game I love the Cairn stone events. I would love it if you could possibly write something with Eivor teaching his young daughter about them and teaching her how to stack them.

man, i wish i loved the cairns as much as you. i've never wanted to throw my controller through the tv more, not to mention the one i spent almost 2 hours on. but gosh if this isn't super cute, so here you go, Eivor teaches his and your daughter how to stack stones. m!Eivor x fem!Reader

SVANDÍS PROTESTS WHEN you veer from the path leading down to the wharf, instead taking to one of the benches outside the longhouse. Sitting down with a long and heavy sigh, you wipe the sweat from your brow —it is only a spring morning with a cool breeze, but the aches and sniffles from the prior evening have taken hold. Valka will tell you it is a spring fever and that rest, and a good meal is the best remedy, but you have an antsy five-year-old on the verge of tears, tugging at your skirts. “But you promised!” She pouts.

“I know” —you stroke back her blond hair, already in disarray from chasing rabbits— “I know, little one, and I am sorry.” Svandís crosses her arms and looks up at you with those clear blue eyes that are impossible to resist, yet another reflection of her father. You sigh, wiping the dirt from her cheek. Breaking promises never feels good, especially ones made to your young daughter, even if it was to stack stones. “All I need is a few days of rest, and then we can go,” you assure her. Where are you, Eivor?

As though the gods have heard your silent prayers, two long horn blasts echo around Ravensthorpe and the surrounding forests. Shortly after, the longship docks —Eivor and his crew dispersing among the settlement. “Eivor!” You call, waving to him as he nears the longhouse —a smile blossoming on his travel-worn countenance when he sees you and his daughter. Little Svandís darts to her father quick as an arrow. He scoops her up into his arms, pressing short kisses across her cheeks and forehead, laughing as she does. Her arms wrap around his neck as he balances her on his arm.

Eivor places Svandís back on the ground, frowning as he sees the pallor tinting your complexion and the sheen of sweat on your brow. “Are you ill?” He asks, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead before you can give him an answer —your skin is hot to the touch, his frown deepens.

“Spring fever,” you tell him, swatting his hand away, “nothing rest will not solve.” He knows it to be true. A few days rest would see you right as rain, but for now, he’ll take his chances and kiss his wife. Eivor bends down, his lips wind-chapped from the sea and river, but his kiss is gentle and sweet, a way to say I love you without speaking. When he pulls away, he brushes the wisps of hair clinging to your forehead aside and lays a quick kiss there too, sitting next to you.

Svandís’s excitement has already worn away —the pout on her lips is back. If she can’t get her way with you, then she knows her father won’t be able to deny her. “And what is wrong with you, my little shieldmaiden?” Eivor asks, picking Svandís up and setting her on his knee. She crosses her arms, squinting at you —still crestfallen.

“Mama promised she was gonna teach me how to stack stones,” she tells him.

Eivor’s lips curl into a smile beneath his golden beard —longer and shaggier than you are used to seeing. “She was?” Svandís nods. “Well, do you want to know who taught her to stack stones?” He inquires, raising a brow, eyes flitting to you. She looks between you and Eivor, blue eyes wide and questioning. “I did,” he tells her, boastful, smile widening as her arms uncross, already seeing the next question popping into her racing mind. “And my mother taught me when I was just a boy,” Eivor explains.

He strokes back Svandís’s messy braids and looks to you with a wide smile, grateful to have the chance to be the one to teach his daughter the art of making cairns. Eivor reaches for your hand and cranes his head down, blond whiskers tickling your skin before his lips brush against your knuckles. “Let your mother rest, Svandís,” he says, letting your hand go as he stands, shifting Svandís up onto his shoulders, “I know just the spot.”

EIVOR PULLS BACK on the reins of his chestnut horse, bringing the beast to a halt next to a bend in the River Nene. He slides from the saddle, then lifts Svandís, setting her on the riverbank. “First,” he says, freeing a woven sack from his belt, “we must gather our stones.” Crouching down, he picks up a stone, smooth and flat —like a honey cake— and places it in his daughter’s hand, letting her feel the weight and rounded edges. “Look for ones that are smooth and flat,” Eivor explains, knowing those are the ones to make for easy stacking for a young novice. It does not take long for them to fill the small sack with river stones —setting back off for the hilltop.

Cresting the hill reveals a vista to the north, overlooking the river and green rolling hills of Mercia —a calm and quiet place, good for clearing the mind, easing the soul, and stacking stones. Eivor sets Svandís to the ground, lowering the sack of stones too before dismounting —breathing in the crisp spring air, lingering with the scent of wildflowers, honeysuckle, and rain. Eivor eyes the patch of wild daisies growing beneath the shade of an ash tree, thinking they’d make a sweet gift for you to keep bedside.

Turning out the stones, he sits, first watching as Svandís eagerly begins stacking the stones. The short piles fall to shambles with her careless haste, but this is part of the learning process. “Failure is part of it, Svandís,” Eivor consoles when she lets out a frustrated groan, her wobbling tower of stone finally crumbling. He sees his younger self reflected in his daughter’s disappointment, remembering the times when his cairns would teeter and fall. He swore never to bother with them again —his mother laughed, knowing her son wouldn’t be able to stand failing at anything in life. He leans forward, resting a hand on her small shoulder. “Think of it as a test of mind,” Eivor says, tapping her noggin before picking up and reordering the felled stones. “You need patience and perseverance.”

Taking the broadest stone from their collection, he smooths over the ground before them both, knocking away small pebbles and little twigs —creating a good base on which to build. Eivor takes the largest and flattest stone, placing it first. “See?” He says, recalling how his mother first explained it to him. “You want the flattest and largest stones near the bottom to build a strong foundation.” Looking over the scattered stones, he picks another one, setting it atop the first —twisting and flipping to find the best way to place it. He nods for Svandís to try again.

Svandís places another stone atop the two already there, echoing her father’s motion of twisting and turning to find the best place to set it. She looks over her shoulder, seeking assurance and approval, Eivor nods, and the cairn grows taller. Before she places some of the last stones, Eivor stills her hand, hovering over the stack. “Don’t let go until you are certain they will not fall,” he tells her in a low breath. She nods, carefully placing the last three stones. The stack is small —not even reaching the height of his father’s bearded axe— but it stable, unmoving in the wind or Svandís’s excited outburst.

“Just like with everything, it takes practice,” Eivor reminds her, wrapping an arm around her small waist. The first cairns he stacked with his mother and father as a boy were just as unimpressive, but he lived and learned and soon could stack them higher than he was tall. He grins with pride, seeing Svandís smile. “The more you stack, the taller they’ll grow,” he tells her, lifting his hand in the air, “and one day you just might make one tall enough to see the home of the gods.”

Eivor reaches into the small pouch at his hip, pulling out two small red-green apples. “Did Uncle Sigurd ever stack stones with you?” Svandís asks, settling next to Eivor, taking the slice of apple he holds out.

“No,” Eivor laughs, recalling the times Sigurd would bother him while trying to make cairns, “he stole my stones more often than naught and called me troll-toothed.” Svandís giggles. The commotion piques Sýnin’s curiosity from where he circles above on an updraft of wind. Sýnin swoops down, landing on Eivor’s shoulder —the raven’s head tilts this way and that as he observes the short stacks of stones, thinking one to be a good perch. The raven hops down, beats his wings once, and settles atop the last stack Svandís built —preening his blue-black feathers. “Look,” Eivor announces, merry with pride, “you’ve built a cairn sturdy enough for Sýnin to perch.” The raven croaks in agreement, bobbing his head up and down. Svandís leans forward, rubbing Sýnin’s head with one of her fingers, smiling when his croaks turn to soft gurgles.

Looking to the sky, Eivor sees the first dark clouds rolling in from a distance, shrouding part of the sun. It will rain later. “Come, little one,” he says, rising with a soft groan —a reminder he is not so young anymore— “I think it’s time we check on your mother.” He goes to the patch of daisies, taking a handful and severing them from the earth with the throwing axe at his back before whistling to his horse. It is an easy ride back to Ravensthorpe, through the forest, and across a shallow parting in the river.

Stabling the chestnut mare, Eivor kneels outside the fence where Svandís waits, bouncing on her toes. He hands her the small bouquet of daisies so that she may give them to you, though before he can stand, she leaps into his arms, squeezing tight. “Thank you for teaching me, father,” Svandís says, almost a whisper.

Eivor brushes back her hair, kissing his daughter’s forehead, eyes crinkled with his smile. “And I am thankful to have been able to teach you,” he answers, swallowing the lump of heavy emotion rising in his throat. “Now, let's tell your mother about our day,” he says, still smiling, scooping Svandís up when he rises. For a second, Eivor does not move, his gaze skyward to the setting sun, a silent prayer of gratitude on his lips, and a hope that he will live to have many more days like this with his little shieldmaiden.

[ taglist: @angstygunslinger @vanillabeanlattes @withered-poppies @ananriel @itseivwhore @maximalblaze @dynamicorbit @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved @elizabethroestone @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 @wallsarecrumbling @kitkitvm @thedragonqueenfan @callmemythicalminx @edelae @darkravenqueen98 @rhienn-lavellan-rutherford @pat-talks ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know!

[plaidbooks]

Cabin Life - First Date

A/N: I seriously fell in love with this AU so hard. If anyone needs me, I’ll be in a cabin with Sonny. Once again, thanks to @berniesilvas for fueling this AU and letting me scream at her about woodsman!Sonny.

Tags: injured birds, otherwise none

Words: 1529

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart  @beccabarba  @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy  @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl  @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @caracalwithchips @berniesilvas​  @reading--mermaid  @averyhotchner  @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31

After that meeting, Sonny called you, asking you on a date. You weren’t quite sure what to expect; you were still new in coming back to the woods, and you weren’t sure what a date really entailed. But, your parents were quick to mention, if it was a date with Sonny Carisi, then it would be fine.

“Everyone loves Sonny; he’s the nicest guy around, and a breath of fresh air in the community,” your mom said.

He showed up at your place that afternoon; he lived in a cabin about a mile away. Within walking distance, but not something you would particularly do on your own. He didn’t seem to mind, though; he wasn’t even out of breath.

“Hey doll. I was thinking we could go for a stroll in the woods? There’s a meadow in between our cabins that’s just breathtakin’ in the setting sunlight,” he said, smiling.

You agreed, grabbing your coat; the autumn air was starting to get a little chilly. Your parents greeted him, and he waved back, telling them he’d bring you home at a decent hour. You stifled a chuckle; you were both in your late 20s.

Your shoes crunched over the leaves covering the ground, Sonny crunching along right beside you. He was telling you about his family, about how they wanted him to visit for Thanksgiving, so he’d have to go back to Staten. As he talked, your hands brushed, and you gently took his hand in yours. He tripped over his words for a moment, then smiled and interlaced his fingers with yours before continuing on.

It had barely seemed like you had been with him before you were coming out of a copse of trees into a meadow. Soft grass to your knees swayed in the gentle breeze, and bees buzzed from flower to flower. The sunlight was dimming as the sun sunk beneath the trees.

“Wow,” you breathed, and Sonny squeezed your hand.

He took a step into the meadow, then stopped and turned to look at you. “Just wait; it gets better,” he promised. Eyes wide with awe, you let him guide you forward into the meadow, your eyes trying to take it all in. It was simply beautiful.

Rabbits hopped through the grass on the other side of the meadow, and you caught a family of deer standing just beyond the trees, watching you.

“Ohh! Lavender!” you announced, your eyes finding the purple flower swaying just to the right of you.

Sonny turned and found it. “I love lavender; it smells so good.”

“It’s a natural stress reliever! I infuse it with my oils and lotions,” you replied, smiling at him.

His eyes widened slightly. “Ya do? Do ya make lots of oils and lotions?”

“I’m trying to make more, actually, as well as soap; I only just started researching natural, herbal remedies. Now, if only I could keep my lavender alive,” you said sheepishly.

He gave you a grin. “Ya know, I grow lavender, too, fer the bees. Maybe I could take a look at yours? See if I can help?”

“Oh, would you please? I’d be so grateful!”

“Absolutely, doll. And maybe once ya have some oils, I can buy some off ya.”

You gave him a look. “You’re not giving me a cent; you didn’t charge me for that slice of apple pie, and I’m not charging you for oils. Besides, here.” You took a lavender flower between your thumb and forefinger, crushing it, then held your fingers to his nose. “Smell.”

He did as you asked, the intake of air tickling your skin. “That smells amazing,” he sighed.

“You can do that for a quick rush of stress relief; it’s for a quick fix, not long term. But it helps,” you explained.

He grinned widely at you. “Well, I’m certainly not stressed right now.”

You opened your mouth to slip out a retort when you heard a little chirping by your feet. You glanced down and Sonny must’ve heard it, too, because he also looked. He gently parted a patch of grass and uncovered a baby bird there. It looked barely old enough to leave its nest, so why was it there?

Sonny quickly ripped his plaid jacket off his shoulders—exposing the tight, white shirt and his strong arms—then swooped down. Carefully, he picked up the bird, who was chirping incessantly now.

“Poor little thing; probably didn’t succeed in his first flight,” he cooed, his expression soft as he looked at the creature. Then, he glanced up at you. “I’m sorry, doll. Do ya mind terribly if we cut our date a little short? I wanna take this little birdy home, make sure it’s okay before releasin’ him.”

You felt your respect for him grow. “Not at all. Mind if I tag along?”

“I’d love that,” he replied, smiling. 

************************

You followed Sonny to his cabin, the bird chirping constantly. He brought it inside, placing it on his kitchen table and taking a seat in front of it. You sat down next to him and watched the bird while he scrolled through article after article on his phone pertaining to nursing birds back to health.

“Okay, so, this here says that the bird may just be in shock, and to put it in a cardboard box with a slightly ajar lid or towel. Then wait ta see if it flies away,” Sonny explained.

You nodded. “Should we take it back to the meadow, then?”

“Yeah; it’s a lil’ far, and I don’t think he’ll know how ta get back….”

You stood, smiling, “then let’s take it back.”

Sonny found a small box, and he put the bird—still nestled in his jacket—inside. Then he gingerly picked up the box, and you both headed back the way you came.

“I’m sorry, doll,” he said after a few steps. “I’m just draggin’ ya all over the place, and fer no real reason, and we missed the sun settin’ in the meadow.” He looked to the darkening sky, and picked up the pace of his steps.

You placed your hand on his shoulder. “Sonny, you have nothing to be sorry for; you were trying to help an animal in need. If anything, that makes you more attractive.”

A pink tint appeared on his ears and the spots on his cheek that his beard didn’t cover. “You really think I’m attractive?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “One of the most attractive people I’ve met.” That dopey smile of his grew twice as wide.

**********************

You both waited in the meadow until the baby bird finally regained its senses and flew from the box. Then Sonny figured it was time to take you home. You linked your arm with his as you walked, and he walked closer to you, your body heat colliding.Once at your cabin, you searched for something to say, to keep him there; you weren’t ready to say goodnight yet.

“Oh! The lavender!” you announced, and Sonny smiled, as if he knew you were delaying. You tugged him back to your herb garden, and he took a close look at your slowly dying lavender with the light of his phone’s flashlight. He touched the crumbling leaves, then the soil, his brow furrowed.

“What kinda soil are ya usin’?” he asked, his voice serious.

You rose an eyebrow. “Just…regular, I guess?”

He nodded before looking up at the black sky covered in stars, judging what, you didn’t know. “Ya may need ta replant it elsewhere,” he finally said. “Ya need soil with good drainage; this soil is a little compacted. If ya separated it from the others, put it in soil mixed with grit, it should do wonders here.”

“Ugh, you’re a godsend, Sonny. I’ll dig it up and replant it tomorrow. Thank you so much,” you replied, giving him a hug.

He chuckled into your ear. “Don’t thank me yet; wait ta see if that fixes the problem first.”

You leaned back, nodding and smiling at him. He grinned back, and then you were kissing, his beard tickling your chin. You both still had your arms around the other, holding each other close as your lips moved against one another. He licked your lips, and you sighed, letting his tongue explore your mouth, rubbing and dancing with your own.

Slowly, he pulled his lips from yours, then snuck another small kiss, then another, and another. Finally, he rested his forehead against yours, both of you breathing in the other’s air.

“Best. First date. Ever,” you murmured, and he huffed out a laugh against your lips.

“Even with the bird?” he asked, making you laugh this time.

“Especially with the bird,” you replied, and he smirked before kissing you again. You could never tire of his lips against yours, his beard tickling your chin, leaving a slight rash. Your hands when to his soft hair, and you grabbed a handful, giving him a soft tug. Everywhere he touched sent fire through you, and with his body pressed up against yours, it felt like you were an inferno. And you knew that from this moment on, you didn’t want to be put out.

[slasherkisss]

CABIN FEVER - JASON VOORHEES X READER [CHAPTER 8]

Summary In an effort to remove yourself from your previous life in the big city, you move to Crystal Lake. The cabin you had inherited from your father makes the perfect place for a fresh start, however, there is a secret in these woods (and within yourself) that you must come to accept…and to love.

A/N I finally managed to get some muse for this again! I have an idea of where I’m going to go with it and I can’t wait to actually finish this project, I’m gonna do it if it kills me. Here’s the next chapter at least...a year later lol 

——————————————————————————————

Months passed between the day of slaughter, and something inside of you felt heavy even after the deed had been said and done.

True to his word, Jason had taken care of everything. You had woken up the day after the Incident to clean sheets and the disappearance of both blood and body in your mind. It was as though the back of your head was trying desperately to push the thoughts of slaughter from you. To lock it away inside of your subconscious in a way that you would never be able to reach it again. It was something you didn’t need to remember, your brain insisted with desperation lacing the tone it usually took when it spoke to you, and you should simply accept that it would never be like that again.

The nightmares did not let you forget, though.

Each night seemed plagued with them, some more grueling than the other. More desperate in its plaintiveness each time you thought through the story that played within it. Your body in each dream pushed itself through dark, craggy forests and against the bare ground of soil. Roots curled with hunger at your legs as you chased your victim, breath heaving and weapon tight in your fist as you caught up to the terrified little thing. Your weapon always seemed to change in the time of your rest. Sometimes it was the trowel, pointed at its tip and built only for tilling the earth, and other times it was a machete with a glimmering blade and reflective steel like teeth bared for murder.

Sometimes, you were the one running from yourself. Your own form silhouetted in the darkness as you chased down who you knew you had to kill. Sometimes you tripped on the edges of roots so thick they might as well have been hands, and looked up into your own wild gaze. Your own form as you shakily held up the trowel against your fingertips. Sometimes it was you who screamed into the darkness as the weapon fell down into your skull and - oh - you could feel the pain in your body as the pressure drowned you in rivulets of dark red against soil.

You woke up more often than not during the night now, the nightmares ripping through your body in the form of a loud, shaky scream that would fill the forest late into the evening. You found yourself more than once awoken by Jason. His hands would cling to your sides and be pressing you firmly into the bed, keeping your arms away from yourself as what cuts you had given your skin due to your ragged nails blossomed over you. It was as though you were trying to write a message into your own body. If you squinted close enough, the lines you had scribbled with your keratin on the soft flesh or your inner arm were almost readable in their entirety.

Your fault. You did this. She’s dead. It was you! Always you.

As you pondered the threats of the voice inside of your head, staring idly at the slowly healing scars that littered your body now, you were pulled away by a knock at the door. It was a pounding and forceful thing that sent your already sensitive head reeling into a momentary headache. You could feel the pain behind your teeth and you could already tell it would slowly become a migraine after a few more hours of leaving it be. You were sure you had some pain killers somewhere left in your bathroom’s medicine cabinet. If not, you mused, you had willow bark and some rosemary out in your steadily growing garden. You could always whip up a remedy for it using those.

The second solid knock on the door made you more weary as you approached it, however. It was not how Jason knocked. He did so gently, afraid of breaking your doorframe if he slammed on it too hard. He never wanted to startle you with his force and, besides, as of late you’ve been allowing him to simply walk into your home without knocking. It was his home now as much as yours and the thought permeated your weariness to offer a fleeting touch of euphoria.

The third knock was accompanied by a voice.

“Hello? Is anyone home?”

You tensed, palms suddenly sweaty as you stared at the doorknob. You felt your stomach lurch in terror as you chewed on the inside of your cheek, biting down hard enough to feel the skin give into a bruising press of your molars. Jason was not due back from his daily patrol of the lake for an hour still. Likewise, he did not speak. He did not have a voice like that. Rough. Open. Unknown.

With a deep, long inhale you gripped the doorknob and slowly opened it up, the old wood creaking with every turn. You made a mental note to oil its hinges when you could.

The man standing in front of you was middle aged, the graying of the hairs littered in his beard giving it away that he was pushing closer to his 50s at the earliest. The thin lines of his wispy hair were hidden behind a dark brown Stetson rimmed with a small tassel of gold and a badge that indicated his status as a police officer from the local town station. Your mind could not read the words decorated on his tanned uniform. They floated against his skin like ancient hieroglyphs as you gripped the doorknob of your home tighter. Your knuckles turned white behind the frame.

You felt a cold rush of air hit your body and you stiffened, brows furrowing as you tried to act surprised and not as terrified as you felt beneath your skin.

“Afternoon, Ma’am,” The officer tilted his hat respectfully at you, “Sorry to bother you in… Your home. I just had a couple of questions for you regarding a few missing folks if that’s alright.”

You did not miss the pause in his tone as he looked around the forest, clearly uncomfortable in the vast outdoor space. You almost wanted to snort. Wasn’t it his job to patrol the woods? To keep hooligans and stupid hunters out of here in the first place? No, he wasn’t even doing that. Instead it was Jason who protected this forest. Who kept everything within it safe, far better than this fool who stood before you could ever do. You shifted on your feet, ignoring the damp spot of sweat growing on the back of your neck.

“Y-Yes that’s quite alright,” You managed out in a surprisingly even tone, your stutter passing as surprise for seeing an officer so suddenly, “It’s horrible to hear some people are missing, especially this time of year.”

“I know,” He sounded almost genuine in his remorse, “That’s why we’re asking around in case anyone’s seen them. Last I heard from another source, they were up camping out in the forest area around here. I figured since you lived up here, you’d be able to tell me if you’ve seen anything of ‘em around or close to your property? Have you ever walked around the forest and caught sight of some folks? Or seen any campsites set up close by, maybe?”

Your mind flashed to the images of the bodies dead on the forest floor, their red blood soaking into the mossy ground. Dead eyes stared forward at you in your mind, glossy with haze and their faces contorted into fear as their brains decorated the edges of tree trunks around you. You remembered the woman, your spade lowered into her skull and her blood warm on your hands as you watched her still pulsating organs devour themselves in an ouroboros of sin.

“Ma’am?”

You looked up with surprise, snapping yourself out of your momentary disassociation. You swallowed and sighed.

“Sorry, I was thinking if I’d seen anyone,” You were surprised how easily the lie left your lips as you shook your head, “Unfortunately, I haven’t seen anything but the deer lately. As far as I know, no one’s been around here.”

There was a momentary pause in the conversation. A quiet lapse as the officer gazed forward at you, a furrow to his brow marking his concern. Your heart pounded hard in your chest, moving its way up to your throat. He knew, you thought with terror rising in your veins, he knew that you were lying. That you had done it. He saw through your lies and into your soul. Into your sins and-

“Alright,” He nodded, “Thanks for your input. Now you don’t hesitate to call the station if you see any suspicious activity in this place, alright? It’s dangerous living alone in this forest, but rest assured we’ll keep it under control.”

“It’s been pleasant so far,” You find yourself speaking out softly, almost with a smile, “But I… appreciate the security, Officer…”

“Hughes. Darcy Hughes,” He introduced himself, his smile lines emphasizing his age as he gave you a brisk nod, “Take care of yourself and don’t get into any trouble, then.”

“I’ll certainly do my best.”

With another tilt of his hat and a hum to his lips, he turned away from you to file back into his police car that he had brought out, the top of it already slightly covered by fallen pine needles and leaves. He brushed them off gently before getting back in, offering one last wave to you through his windshield. You waved back, a smile plastered on your face as you watched him start up his vehicle, back out of the dirt driveway, and turn down the barely wide enough path to the town once more.

You didn’t stop waving until you were sure his car was out of sight. Slowly you turned back into your home, closing the door behind you, where you stood for a long, quiet moment.

Your legs shook the next second, trembling so hard that they gave out from underneath you. You collapsed to the floor, gasping for a breath you didn't realize you had been holding this whole time. You coughed, wincing at the pain of splinters gathering in your kneecaps, and you threw your hands out to catch yourself as you heaved. For a moment you felt like you were going to vomit onto the floor in front of you, but your throat was so dry with exhaustion that nothing dared to come up and ruin its scratchy heat.

You did it. You had made it out of that situation. Yet the weight on your shoulder burned like a brand, searing an invisible mark into your flesh as you cried out in pain, arching your back as if to escape the sensation.

Liar, your mind laughed at you, what a liar, lair, lair-

A new knock on the door startled you from your writhing episode on your floor. Your face paled in terror. Was the officer back? Maybe you could ignore his knocking. Maybe you could pretend to be in the back of your house and ignore the sound that scratched on your eardrums like a funeral march. Perhaps it was Jason? Returning early from his patrol and sensing your distress behind the door of your home? Your heart momentarily sparked with hope as you stood up on your feet again, feeling light headed as you turned and reached out, wincing at the feeling of the knob beneath your hand once again.

When you pulled it open this time, it was neither Hughes nor Jason. But someone new.

He was an older man, older than Officer Hughes certainly, with barely any hair on his wrinkled, liver-spotted forehead. The way his lip shriveled around his mouth indicated his lack of teeth, his sagging cheeks only serving to make the glare of dark brown eyes he trailed on you all the more intimidating. He stepped forward, invading your space the moment you opened the door. The scent of alcohol was radiating off of him, making you want to gag and cover your mouth as you took one step back into your home, swallowing hard.

“C...Can I help you?”

“Saw you talkin with Officer Friendly there,” He growled out with a raise of his eyebrow, “Told him you didn’t see nothin, didn’t ya?”

“Well, yes I-”

“Been a while since you been in town too, huh?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. It was true, you rarely visited the small town just outside of Crystal Lake. Since your self sustaining farm had taken off, you really only visited for canned goods to stock up on during the winter, or to sell some of your fresh produce to the local grocery store for a little extra money in your pocket here and there. When you did visit, you rarely talked to any of the locals that did not demand your immediate business. You exhaled, your fingertips drumming on the wood of your door.

“I haven’t had a need to.”

The man smiled, confirming your hypothesis on his missing teeth.

“Ya may have fooled the police, girl, but oh I know. I know just what you are, you know. Ain’t gonna pull the wool over ol’ Eddie’s eyes, oh no siree.”

He - Eddie you guessed - got closer to you, his eyes narrowing in a squint as you set your jaw in worry.

“Yer a witch, ain’t ya.” The way he said it didn’t mean it was a question, “Livin out here with yer potions and yer nature. I bet ya killed those folks, too! But oh, it don’t matter. You got em fooled, don't you?”

He was advancing more now, dangerous in his posture towards you as you swallowed hard. You stepped back into your home, moving your grip on the door to quickly shut it, but his boot clad foot blocked the entrance so it didn’t shut all the way. You gasped as he crawled through the gap, a spider with crazed eyes and gnashing jaws as he reached out for you with a glare.

“I knew you’d be trouble since ya came! Changing our town’s ways an communin out here with them spirits. Y’ain’t gonna fool me, not me! You’ll get turned right in and they’ll see ya for what ya are, ya witch! Ya daughter of Satan! Ya-”

He suddenly wasn’t there anymore. With a surprised yelp his entire form was peeled away from your door. You held your breath in surprise, your heart beating loud in your ears as you waited for another sign that he would come in. That he would break the door down and rip apart your form in search of his evidence. In search of anything to call you a witch once more. You looked at your hearth of bones and dried plants, setting your jaw as you understood the accusations, but did not want to hear them.

Instead all you heard outside was another strangled gasp of surprise. A solid snap of something fragile. A thud of body to wood.

You waited a few more seconds before gripping the frame in trembling hands, slowly peeling the door open to reveal what had happened just feet from you in your home.

Eddie’s head was bent to face his back, his eyes wide and dead in shock as his jaw hung limply, broken and bruising the tender skin of his old face. Only a small amount of blood dribbled from the dislocation of his jaw and neck, the tendons bursting against the bruising skin. His fingers curled in on themselves like a dead spider would curl its legs on itself. You stared, blank and unsure for the longest of moments as your heartbeat slowed in your chest. As you licked your suddenly too chapped lips in an effort to hold back your growing smile.

You failed, exhaling as the edges of your mouth upturned into something of a wide, relieved looking grin. You looked upwards from the crumpled body before you, a blush heating your cheeks as you admired the man standing in front of it, his breath coming in ragged gasps against his chest as he followed your gaze.

Jason reached out to you, ignoring the body on your porch. His fingertips roamed the vast expanse of your skin, feeling for any wounds or any indication that you had been hurt before he could reach out to protect you. When you gave a swift sign of ‘I’m fine’ his shoulders sagged in relief. His gaze returned momentarily to the body at his side. One hand reached up to his form, the awkwardness of signing with just a single one making it hard to read but understandable nonetheless. He refused to let go of you for even a moment.

‘What happened?’

‘Police came. Townsfolk are getting suspicious.’

The hand on your shoulder tensed, the pressure in creasing for only a moment.

‘Then I’ll kill them.’

‘No! You can’t get all of them.’

‘I want you to be safe.’

‘I’m safe with you. Always with you.’

Jason paused then, his hand finally freeing your arm as he looked away. He gazed down at the body in front of him, its tangled limbs and broken spine an homage to just what he would do for you. As if aiding in his thoughts, the wind blew gently through the trees. Fallen leaves swirled upwards in a momentary tornado. In the background, your chickens clucked in their coops and the soil housing both your plants and the dead bodies gathered for fertilizer filled Jason with a suddenly intense sort of want. He looked back at you. Through his mask you could see conviction. Surprised at the look, you tilted your head at him, brows furrowed in confusion. You reached your hand out to touch his face, rubbing along the rough edges of his hockey mask in a gentle gesture, one he leaned into as your touch grounded him.

“What’s wrong?” You spoke this time, your tone a weak whisper as you searched his gaze, “What are you thinking about?”

How he knew the next sign was beyond you, yet he moved his fingertips with such conviction that you could not help the heart stopping gasp that welled inside of you when he managed it:

‘Marry me.’

[jamespotterthefirst]

For Lost Time (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2K Premise: They continue to make up for lost time after their encounter in his car. Set during the events of Book 2, Chapter 12 

Warning: Strong Language and NSFW content. Please use discretion and caution when viewing this work. By viewing of this work, you consent that you are 18+ .

The fog clouding the glass had cleared almost entirely by the time they deemed it time to go inside. They haphazardly replaced their clothes in the small confines of his car, lightheartedly teasing each other until they shared a final kiss. Before their bodies parted, Ethan glanced down at her one more time, unable to keep a joyous smile at bay. The streetlights outside the car cast a golden glow on her as she glanced back at him, eyes alight with happiness, cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink. 

He couldn't resist the urge to kiss her again. It was one that was all too familiar to Ethan, except this time, there were no obstacles that stopped his lips from moving enthusiastically against hers. 

He groaned as she pushed her body closer to his. 

A mere kiss was all it took for every part of his body to hum with need for her again like a live wire. Lilac must have felt it too because her eyes were darker as they pulled apart, one fingernail coiling playfully around his tie. 

“You should come inside.”

The spike of sheer euphoria that coursed through him at the words almost left him speechless. Ethan, however, still had the words to lean in a whisper the filthiest turn of phrase he could think of. 

It worked because in seconds, they were out of the car, rushing through the rain to go inside her building. They made it to her front door in record speed, especially considering the black high heels she wore. The sleek contraptions did wonders for her legs and he decided then that he wanted them on through every filthy act he was about to perform. 

Unable to resist, his hands found her hips, fingers digging slightly into her dress as he pulled her close. 

“Unlock the door fast,” he murmured hoarsely against her ear. A thrill of satisfaction buzzed through his veins when her hands fumbled with the keys, clearly affected. “Unless you want your neighbors to see me taking you against it.”

Her responding sigh made him grow even harder against her backside, his lips pressing hungry kisses along the column of her neck. Vaguely, he was aware of how desperate he appeared, hands urgently roaming her body, but he found that he didn't care. 

Lilac didn't seem to mind either because as soon as she opened the door, she took his hand without ceremony and guided him straight to her room. 

“Miss my body already?” she teased when he pushed her against the door as soon as it clicked shut.

Ethan almost didn't hear the taunt, busy as he was tugging off her dress and kissing every inch of exposed skin. “Can you blame me? I've been missing it for months.”

As if to drive that point across, she rolled her body against his just like she had in the car less than an hour ago. And just like in his car, their bodies crammed and quivering with need, Ethan groaned. 

“I've been missing yours,” she confessed in a sinful whisper. “You're all I thought about when I touched myself at night.”

A low, guttural curse escaped him, lost against the tops of her breasts. 

“Shhh. My roommates are home so you'll have to be quiet.” There was amusement in her breathless voice. “Think you can manage it, Doctor?” 

Ethan raised his head from where he tugged at her bra with his teeth to raise a quizzical eyebrow. “That sounds more of a challenge for you. I'm not the screamer out of the two of us.”

The heady way in which he whispered it made her hips rock against his involuntarily. 

“I seem to remember otherwise.” The coquettish glint in her eye made him harder still. 

“Then let me refresh your memory.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“One you'll lose, yes.”

What promised to be a signature witty reply was lost in a moan as Ethan moved his lips to her ear and all but growled, “Turn around.”

Despite the bravado, she obeyed at once.

Wasting no time, Ethan firmly took her hips and steered her towards the dresser at the other end of the room, the scent of her hair as intoxicating as the curve of her ass pressing tightly against him.

 Their eyes met through the mirror before them, a questioning look on her pretty face. She no doubt wondered why Ethan had chosen to pin her against a dresser, roughly bending her over to balance on shaking arms. The truth was, he had spent too much time fantasizing about having her on every imaginable surface and he planned to make good on those ideas. 

A bed was decidedly at the bottom of his list of surfaces.

“Ethan,” she moaned when he all but tore her dress off the remainder of the way. 

“Shhh,” he said hotly against her ear, parroting her earlier warning. “It's already not looking good for you and that challenge.”

Before she could reply, he took her knee and hoisted it onto the surface of the dresser, exposing her body to him. The sharp stiletto of one of her black heels dug into his thigh. Lilac let out a small gasp that quickly turned into a soft, wanton cry as his fingers pushed the thin lace of her thong aside and teased at her folds. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, realizing how wet she already was. 

“Only for you.”

A primal satisfaction overtook him at those words. His fingers slid and tapped with expert precision, drawing out the most maddening noises from her. When he used two fingers to tease her entrance, her supporting arms quivered, her body arching deliciously against him. 

“Ethan, please,” she said in a ragged plea. Their previous banter forgotten, he steadied her with one hand and slid two fingers inside her. 

He moved slowly at first, intending to savor the way he could still make her body sing, even after months of being apart. Soon, however, the speed and pressure of his movements increased, mostly at her urging.��

“Fuck, Lilac. You're so—” 

He couldn't finish the husky, senseless thought because Lilac demonstrated exactly what he meant by pulsing tightly around his fingers. Despite foolishly thinking he could exert control over her, Ethan allowed himself to fall at her mercy. 

As her pleasure peaked, she doubled over, her dark hair falling in curtains over her face. With one last cry, she quivered against his movements until she rode out the high. It was lucky the rain slashed loudly against the windows or her roommates would have undoubtedly heard her. 

He gave her a smug smile through the mirror. Lilac, looking flushed and blissful, rolled her eyes lovingly. “I still didn't scream,” she pointed out. 

Ethan took that as another challenge because five minutes later, she was on the verge of doing just that. He had her perched on the dresser, her thighs open to him, her back arching up from the surface. Ethan, on his knees like some kind of supplicant, met her gaze as his devilish tongue lapped at her folds.

“Ethan,” she cried, her hand delving into his hair. The light tug inspired his tongue to enter her, lavishing every hot inch of her body with the attention it deserved. Lilac cursed, writhing her hips desperately against his face. 

“Never get—” She moaned but tried again. “Never get rid of the beard,” she implored in a broken whisper. Ethan almost grinned and replied by taking the swollen nub in between his lips and sucking briefly. 

It was all she needed to climax again. 

“It's not fair.” Lilac hopped off the dresser moments later, legs trembling.

Ethan steadied her with ease, arching a brow. “Not fair? I thought I was being rather generous.”

Lilac pulled at his tie, shaking her head. “It's not fair that you're still fully clothed.”

Ethan laughed, leaning in to kiss her, his lips taunting her in a way that made her groan. Without further preamble, she made quick work of his shirt and tie, both falling in a heap to the floor. A smirk that was all wickedness pulled at her lips when she divested him of the rest of his clothing, the evidence of his arousal smacking against her hip. 

It was Ethan who was at a disadvantage now, fully naked while Lilac was still clad in her bra and panties. In one swift movement, he remedied that problem, using his teeth to slide off the straps of her bra. It was far more than she could take. 

“Fuck me, Ethan,” she pleaded in a heady whisper. 

He complied by swiveling her body around yet again, their eyes finding each other through the mirror . They started at one another with such intensity that Ethan felt his hands tremble against her hip bones. As soon as she bit her lip enticingly, however, he took himself in his hand and teased her entrance until she trembled. 

Soon, every ounce of his self-control had been spent, his body pulsing as desperately as hers. Unable to wait another moment, Ethan pushed himself inside her inch by glorious inch. Buried to the hilt, he pressed his forehead against Lilac's shoulder. 

“You feel so good,” he said hotly against the curve of her shoulder. 

Lilac moaned as he began to move in measure strokes.

She gripped the edges of the dresser as his movements increased speed. With every thrust, the mirror rattled dangerously against the wall. If their mingled cries and moans were not enough to alert her roommates, perhaps the smacking of their bodies would. 

Lilac's body gripped him firmly from all sides, eliciting a dark curse from Ethan. The erotic little way she moaned his name was proving detrimental to his plan of lasting as long as he could. 

“Faster,” she cried. 

His thrusts became shallow and pointed as he obeyed. Ethan watched through the mirror as her body bounced to the rhythm of his movements, her eyes closed blissfully as she raced to her release. 

“God, Ethan,” she cried. “You're so—” Her voice broke off as he drove into her with invigorated zeal, his lustful hand taking a firm grip of her right breast. 

“Finish the thought,” he murmured hotly in her ear. 

“You're—” 

Another calculated thrust and another cry.

“I’m what?”

“You're so big,” she finally managed.

Ethan cursed.

“I’m so close,” she breathed. 

“Good,” he growled.

“Ethan, you’re going to make me—” the last words broke into a series of moans as she finished around him. 

The sounds she made were the last push to his own release. With a guttural groan, he gripped her tightly against him until they both rode off the high. 

When they pulled apart, Lilac dropped into the mattress with a content sigh. Ethan laughed, joining her. 

“I missed that,” she admitted with a grin. 

He watched her expression closely, relieved to see genuine joy there. “Me too,” he said, leaning in to kiss her nose. 

Before either of them could say anything else, her stomach growled loudly. 

“Hungry?” 

She laughed, looking slightly embarrassed. It was almost comical to Ethan as she was currently naked in front of him. 

“Starving. We skipped dinner with all of our…” she trailed off, smiling slightly. “...catching up.”

He chuckled, rather liking the term. If they were making up for lost time they still had a long way to go. “Let's go out and get something.”

“Okay,” she said, perking up. At a brief pause, she wrinkled her nose. “But please, no more bland foods. I can't eat plain white rice again. I will scream.”

At this, he laughed fully, shaking his head. “What are you in the mood then?”

“Tacos,” she said without a thought. Ethan nodded and made to stand up. She reached for his arm, a serious expression on her face. “Real tacos. If you give me this hard-shell, ground-beef nonsense I won't make it, Ethan.”

He scoffed though the effect might have been ruined by the way he grinned. “Of course. Who the hell do you take me for?” 

“A white guy from the east coast?” she said innocently. 

Ethan laughed, having lost count of how many times he had done that in his brief time with her that evening. As his laughter subsided, however, he could feel the tendrils of dread that still lingered starting to take root again. The events of the past few days, seeming a distant memory only moments ago, began to fog his consciousness once more, despite his every effort.

Lilac met his eye, perhaps sensing the serious edge in his demeanor. Without saying anything, she took his hand in hers and kissed it tenderly. 

“We…we will be okay.” The words were directed at him but Ethan suspected she meant them for herself too. 

Ethan glanced at their joined hands and nodded, believing it for the first time in months. 

_______

Author’s Note: I don’t know.

Thank you for reading this! 

Thank you @aestheticartsx​ for your help with this one! 

_______

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