#storytime quilt

[bevanne46]

Fairy Dust - Storytime Quillow https://www.quiltingmayhem.com/shop/Patterns/Free-Patterns/p/Fairy-Dust---Storytime-Quillow---Free-Pattern-x85189737.htm

[aceoflights]

This is it btw

Oh my god! Something I credibly exciting just happened. But I have to give background first (well I don't have to, but it wouldn't have the same impact if I didn't)

So, I've been working in a craft workshop (sorry, weird translation) for disabled people since October. As part of my voluntary social year.

We attend/guide the people in the creation of clay things (mostly spheres and bowls. But also other stuff like little ones or signs) as well as felt bags, mobilees and a bunch of other stuff. And we then sell those things.

We also sometimes sell stuff that we didn't produce. Like socks that an old friend of my coworkers knits.

A few days ago I noticed a quilt, that was being displayed (for 200€. Which is actually fairly cheap). Today I asked my boss about it. He told me that his mom made it (he comes from an Irish family). We talked a bit about it and about quilting. And I was really excited, because quilting is so fucking cool.

He then asked me what I would do with it (I assumed he'd offer it to me at a cheaper price). I told him, that I would probably just use it as one would use a blanket. But that I wouldn't get it because I already have too many blankets at home (which is true).

At some point later he got it down and showed me that the back actually also had a pattern. And I was fucking fawning over this blanket.

And he just... gave it to me. When I said no, he said it should be something to remember them by after my voluntary social year is over.

I am still so overwhelmed by this. This is such a kind act. I'm gonna fucking cry again.

[nostalgiclittlespace]

request: CG!Rosie and Little!Alastor

Plot: Rosie's trying to get Alastor to sleep but Al's being a cranky lil baby (Alastor's little age is newborn)

Hope you enjoy! Sorry if it’s scatter brained, I wrote this late at night 😅

SFW AGE REGRESSION FIC. DNI IF KINK, NSFW, PROSHIP, OR SIMILAR. DO NOT REPOST TO OTHER SITES

Title: A Fussy Fawn

Pairing: CG! Rosie x Little! Alastor

Word count: 940

Description: Despite Alastor’s insistence (and by that I mean his fussing) he definitely needs a nap. Good thing Auntie Rosie is always there for her fawn (fluff, hurt/comfort-ish)

A Fussy Fawn

Alastor was not tired.

He had made that clear on several occasions—first when Rosie suggested they have some quiet storytime, then when she tried cradling him with a bottle, and again when she offered him a pacifier.

Rather than the polite words or violent displays Alastor usually would have used to convey his thoughts, the upper rooms of Rosie’s Emporium were filled with fusses and shrieks at her attempts.  Though his powers had diminished to near nothing when he regressed, the radio sitting on the nightstand randomly switched channels and crackled with static and interrupted songs.  His shadows did not attack him or Rosie; instead, they too tried to soothe him by offering toys and gear at random.  Like Rosie, they had no success.

Yet, despite Alastor’s insistence, he definitely needed a nap.

The Radio Demon sat criss-cross on the red quilted blanket Auntie Rosie had made him many years before.  Cast aside plushies and toppled wooden blocks littered the ground around him, attesting to his displeasure as he whined once again.

“Young man,” Rosie said, soothing yet serious, “you know you will feel much better if you just take your paci.  Look, I even got your favorite one!”

Indeed she had.  The red plastic and its matching silk clip shone softly under the low nursery lights.  A small deer had been painted onto the center.  It even had his name on the handle!  

Nonetheless, Alastor showed no interest in the comfort item.

Rosie attempted to push the pacifier into his mouth, but to no luck.  As soon as the pacifier reached his lips, he popped it out of his mouth with a miserable screech.  He threw it away from himself, as if the silicone soother had somehow offended him.

“Alrighty then, no paci,” Rosie sighed, reaching across the play area for his plush alligator and offering that instead.  “How about this one?  Would you like to play with him?”

Alastor shook his head vehemently before flopping over onto his stomach in silent protest.  Well, actually it wasn’t all that silent.  Grumpy fussing emitted from his frame as he laid there like a slug.

After only a few seconds, his chest only took heavy breaths, his frame shaking slightly, and his ears pinned back against his skull.  As he cried miserably, Rosie sighed softly, feeling a loss for ideas.  Normally, Alastor would accept quiet time without question.  In fact, he preferred it to some of the noisier or messier activities they had tried.  So, what could have possibly interrupted their usual schedule?

Nonetheless, Rosie didn’t question his moodiness, nor scold him for his lack of manners.  Instead, she scooted a little closer and placed a hand on his back.  She found a soothing rhythm, tracing small circles like it was second nature.  To be fair, it most likely was.  

Despite being a cannibal, an Overlord, and having lived a life sinful enough to condemn her for eternal damnation, Rosie never lost her kindness nor her maternal instincts.  She took anyone under her wing, especially the children living in Cannibal Town.  Alastor was no exception.

The Radio Demon finally seemed ready to accept some form of comfort; Auntie Rosie’s comforting presence finally making some difference.  Unsteady as a newborn fawn, Alastor crawled a grand total of two steps before planting his face in Rosie’s skirt.  The dress’s soft fabric provided a gentle pillow, undoubtedly even more comforting than the blanket beneath them.

His fawn ears twitched as Rosie scratched them gently.  Gradually, they relaxed from where they had pinned backward and returned to their usual perked state.  His whines diminished too–instead replaced by soft sighs of contentment when Rosie pet his head just right.  Finally, he seemed ready to settle down.    

My, he certainly is one for dramatics, Rosie thought affectionately.  Even when this young, he must make a fuss about the little things.

  As Rosie’s fingers mused with his tufts of hair, Alastor’s body grew steadily limp.  As his blinks grew slower and his breaths deeper, his Caregiver carefully lifted him into her arms so he was no longer half-draped across the floor.  With motherly precision, she guided him into a strong yet gentle cradle.

With equal heed, she slowly stood up, then carried him over to the rocking chair.  Alastor stirred, blinking blearily as the movement disturbed his half-asleep state.  He whined sharply, threatening to undo all the work in soothing him.  However, Rosie eased away the baby’s complaint with practiced care.  Whispered hushes, a gentle rocking motion as she carried him, which continued as they lowered onto the wooden chair.  It glided back and forth, slow but sure.  

Rosie reached over to the radio sitting on the nightstand beside them, careful not to jostle Alastor’s delicate slip back into dreamland.  A couple dial turns later, the nursery’s smooth jazz resumed drifting through the air.  This time, Alastor’s powers did not disrupt the lulling notes.  He simply blinked slowly up at Rosie, who smiled back down at him.

“I think you’ve fought sleep for long enough, darling,” she chuckled.  “Rest now.  We’ll have plenty of play time later.”

Whatever had disturbed him, she could find out later.  For now, getting him to sleep was a much higher priority.

Thankfully, Alastor seemed to agree as his doe eyes drifted closed again.  He curled up, tucking his body closer to his caregiver’s.  Rosie, smiling fondly, reached for the spare blanket they kept on the rocking chair’s back, and draped it over him.   The peace enveloped the scene, Rosie’s worries melting away with Alastor’s miniature snores. Even if he is a bit cranky, Rosie thought, amused, he still is an adorable fawn.

[jungle-angel]

Another bucket of Domestic Prompts

I have GOT to keep better track of this shit (lol). Dinner's on the table guys so eat up, I promise you, they're delicious and nice and warm and no worries, any of theses lists are always open (lol). Taking requests for Top Gun Maverick (any character), Outer Range, Bad Times At The El Royale, Catch 22 (Hulu), Salem's Lot, Press Play and coming soon......Lessons In Chemistry.

Skin-to-skin with the baby either before bed or in the shower

"I um.....I made you dinner"

Trip to the art museum

Screwing around in the college chemistry lab before Halloween because their s.o wanted to recreate Frankenstein

Reading to their kids before bed

Adopting a new pet

"Darlin the ghouls are hitching a ride in the laundry basket again!"

"I'M NOT TO BE DISTURBED!" (leads to smut)

The baby being born at home

Bringing tiny baby animals into the house before a big snowstorm

Fixing something that used to belong to a family member

Letting the grandparents watch the kids for the day

Prepping the house for winter

"You've been grading papers all day, you need a break"

"I hate grocery shopping"

Trying to keep the kids from ruining their good clothes before going to church and failing miserably

Making warm baked goods on a freezing, shitty day

Helping their s.o to relax after they've been working all day long

Having the whole family over for Sunday dinner

Their favorite activities for fall and winter with their s.o and their kids

FaceTiming their s.o at work while they're renovating a really horrible house

Storytime with the kids by the fireplace

Heating a blanket in the dryer for freezing cold nights

Sneaking food scraps to the dog/cat

Perfecting their skills in the kitchen with their s.o

Coming home late and tucking their children into bed

Nature based projects

Fixing an old quilt

Washing their s.o's nasty feet

"Will you stop sneaking my oatmeal cookies before dinner?!"

Telling the in-laws if the baby is a boy or a girl

Making homemade soap

Hot coffee or tea before bed

Taking a ride in the truck to put the baby to sleep

Trying not to cry when their baby starts crying while getting their shots at the doctor's

"You've been combing their hair for hours" "Sweetheart, I ain't risking a case of head lice in this house"

Dancing in the living room with their s.o

Warm hands (does lead to smut)

"What do you want me to make you for breakfast?"

"You didn't tell me you slept in the nude" (smut)

Having to rub their s.o's belly because they ate too much cheese

Their s.o keeping detailed notebooks full of their work studies

A night at the rodeo

"C'mon honey, crawl to daddy!"

"Dear the dog farted again" "Oh shut up, I know it was you!"

Finally being able to move into their dream home

Movie night

Getting ready for Thanksgiving a few weeks in advance

Putting on a show for their s.o in the bedroom (smut)

Their s.o and the dog teasing the baby

[shannonpurdyjones]

Appalachian Gothic Storytime!

This is "The Honeysuckle Weave" - a short story featuring spiders, weaving, and what happens when prey turns predator. Originally featured in issue 20 of Grim & Gilded, and posted here for your spooky season reading fix.

Hazel sits at her loom and weaves. Back and forth, back and forth she passes the shuttle between warp strands threaded smooth as the millpond on a windless day. Back and forth, back and forth the spiders in the corners scuttle, weaving their funnel webs in the cracks between rough hewn logs, sealing over pinpricks of light.

In spring Hazel helps Mama plant the vegetable patch. She hoes and tills and runs off groundhogs and deer with a broom, keeps after Edie and Harlan to mind that they don’t trample the neat new rows of green. In summer they put up food for winter—peas, pickles, peaches from the Gleason’s orchard that they trade for when they have eggs to spare, so many tomatoes her hands stain bright red. When the days grow short she strings beans and shucks corn, their papery husks rattling like the gold and red leaves on the trees when the wind kicks up the ridge.

When her other chores are done, Hazel tromps up the hill from their cabin to the loom house. The squat little barn’s barely big enough for the loom itself, with just enough space for one person to walk all the way around threading the warp and getting everything set for a new weave. Slits in the walls let in the afternoon sun as her feet work the treadles up and down—one and three, two and four, one and three again—the wood beam clacking and clattering along. Shuttle passes from left to right, right to left. Up and down, left to right, breathing in and out and in and out air that smells of old wood and the oil that keeps it smooth, and the faint sheep musk remembered in the woolen thread.

Weaving’s slow going at first, but Hazel knows how to wait. With enough clacking and clunking the pattern emerges, fabric smooth and whole spooling out of the chaos.

Hazel sits at her loom and weaves, and so she doesn’t hear his boots creak the porch steps that first cold week of October, though of course the spiders do. She doesn’t hear the wrap of knuckles on the old wood door, or maybe he never knocked at all. Maybe he came upon Daddy and Jeb in the fields as he ambled up the cart path and they had the whole thing settled before she or Mama ever got a say.  All she knows is when she walks down the hill still blinking away the loom house dim there he is, sitting on the porch steps pinching a cob pipe between his teeth, bandy legs crossed long out in front of him in the bright gold afternoon.

They never get visitors up here, except inviting the neighbors around for the occasional quilting or singing of hymns. Their land hunches on the back side of the ridge, a full quarter day’s walk past the Hilliard’s farm. Anyone looking for work stops there. Hazel knows because Millie Hilliard is her best friend, and it’s news worth sharing when anyone on this mountain looks up to see a face they don’t already know staring back at them.

He must’ve seen her coming down the hill, head still full of the complicated pattern she’s working up into a new coverlet for her and Edie’s bed. He doesn’t stand, doesn’t doff his worn out felted hat or introduce himself as would be proper. Hazel’s not quite grown, but she’s old enough for a man to tip his hat brim when he comes to call. Instead he watches her in that long, hateful way men watch a big buck that crosses their path on the way to church when they have no rifle on them to shoot it.

He sits without moving his scuffed up pant legs until Mama calls out the window for her to come help get supper on. He takes his time uncrossing his legs, like he’s doing her a favor even though he’d rather not go to the trouble. Hazel itches to smack his hat clean off his head, but of course she never would do it. She’s to turn the other cheek, as it tells in the good book.

Continue reading here

[fandomregression]

asking again just in case I didn't click anon when I requested the first time. but ashes o’reilly hcs?

(also I think you can ‘do not archive’ tag it if you don't want jonny seeing)

Regressor Ashes O'reilly Headcanons!

ashes regresses usually to older kid ages! usually around 6-10!! they like to think they're a very independent kiddo (but sometimes that just doesn't work out)

they like to at least try doing everything at least once (i wanna cook! i wanna pour the juice!) but there are some things they're not allowed to do (these were set by brian, who got very tired of ashes sneaking into the pilot area and sending them off course towards whatever planet caught ashes' attention)

ashes doesn't have a main cg because they try so hard to be independent, but a lot of times if they do need help they'll run to brian or nastya or maybe - MAYBE - jonny

jonny however is then supposed to find literally anyone else. because the two of them without big-ashes' ever so slight filter will actually lead to them burning down the ship

"jonny i need help!!" "sure kiddo what's up??" "marius says no ice cream i wanna take his kneecaps" "say no more, i've got the perfect idea!"

ashes is generally a picky kid, and they just really love sweets. this of course leads to difficult meals because if allowed, they would just survive off of chocolate cereal and cake. this is not allowed. this leads to tantrums

jonny then comes in and gives them cake. because he would rather be on ashes' good side

they aren't allowed to smoke when they're regressed, because the one time they let ashes smoke when regressed they set fire to a sofa (accidentally (as far as anyone should be concerned))

instead, ashes runs around with a toy cigar that lights up on the end. they go through so many of those things because while you're not supposed to chew on them, ashes 100% does

hide-and-seek with toy soldier. hide-and-seek with toy soldier!!!

if anyone else is regressed on the ship, usually ashes takes on a big sib persona and they help take care of the other small mech, but they still demand their own attention and will often get the other regressor involved in whatever scheme game they've come up with

when they're on the younger end of their regression, ashes does tend to carry around a blankie they have. its a baby quilt, and its very worn out, but they need it around. its their biggest comfort item

storytime with ivy. storytime with ivy!!!

they love playing card games, and at first jonny thought he'd have to let them win, so he went easy on them. turns out, as a kiddo, ashes is a huge cheat and very, very good at card games. jonny doesn't have to let them win, ashes has to let him win. tim makes fun of him for this, which always makes ashes laugh

okie i think thats all ive got in my head aodjfjakzjrjgja ive got thoughts on who in the mechs would regress/be a flip/be a cg and ashes is firmly in the flip category

[vampirephlebotomy]

>:) !!

For every !! I receive, I'll introduce you to one OC

I also think it'd be wrong of me to not show off my FIRST TROLL I EVER MADE. Her name is Dulsee Intara, and she's a retired rockstar who's now opened up a quilting shop not too far from her church. nowadays she really just wants to relax, kick back, and knit things for the clownlings at her church.

Dulsee used to be a lot different, very much a product of her fame and the people she surrounded herself with. She was, for all intents and purposes, a bitch, and really threw her weight and caste around like it was no big deal. These days however she's doing a lot better, as the incident where she lost her hand and eventually caused her to retire really changed her outlook on life and how she treats people. Dulsee struggles to use her chucklevoodoo due to not using it as often as she should, and has pretty intense migraines after using it. Eventually she goes on to be a subjuggulator just to stay with her moirail when the two of them conscript and go off planet.

Fun fact, her face paint is based off of the Mighty Death Pop joker card from ICP :) She's changed a decent bit from 2022 when I first made her but I adore her all the same thing

NAME: Dulsee Intara

PRONOUNS: she/her [Transwoman]

BLOODCASTE: purple§wisteria [#8101DF]

TROLL TAG: starstruckRachadian

SIGN: Caprilo [Prospit/Heart]

ANCESTORS TITLE: The Iconical

OCCUPATION: Retired rock/metal singer, now owns and works a quilting and textiles shop.

STRIFE SPECIBUS: Needlekind [Formerly Hammerkind]

FETCH MODUS: Quilting

HIVE: Penthouse hivecell on the edges of a highblood neighborhood, on one of the top floors. Has an infinity pool for her lusus.

LUSUS: Manatee

DESCENDANTS: N/A

QUADRANTS:

Flush with both Konsol Lomati and Mimett Fessia

Flush crush on Doilie Battix

Pale with Pojaca Gomble

INTERESTS: Quilting, Knitting, Baking, Leading storytime for young purples at the church.

QUIRK: ☆ [ surrounded by STARS and a fake billboard. very succinct and to the point! no capitalization unless talking about a friend. any mention of her OLD JOB is capitalized. ] ☆

(WOULD-BE) CLASSPECT: Witch of Heart

THREE BULLETPOINTS:

• Cold hands, and it's not the fake one.

• Mom friend, if moms were ex-rockstars

• No chucklevoodoo? In MY clown? It's more likely than you'd think!

[louismontee1]

Cherishing Your Daughter: Unique and Sentimental Gift Ideas

Introduction:

Daughters hold a special place in our hearts, and finding the perfect gift for them can be a delightful journey. Whether it’s their birthday, a special occasion, or just a random act of love, choosing a gift that reflects your affection and appreciation for your daughter is essential. In this article, we’ll explore a variety of unique, sentimental, and personalized gift ideas that are sure to make your daughter feel cherished.

Personalized Jewelry:

One of the most timeless and meaningful gifts for daughters is personalized jewelry. You can engrave her name, birthdate, or a heartfelt message on a necklace, bracelet, or a piece of custom-made jewelry. This not only adds a personal touch but also serves as a lasting reminder of your love.

Customized Keepsake Box:

A beautifully crafted keepsake box is a wonderful way to help your daughter preserve cherished memories. You can have her name or a special message engraved on the box, and she can use it to store letters, photos, or other mementos that hold sentimental value.

Handwritten Letter or Journal:

Sometimes, the simplest special gifts for daughters are the most sentimental. Write a heartfelt letter to your daughter, sharing your thoughts, memories, and wishes for her future. You can also give her a journal where she can record her own thoughts and experiences.

Personalized Artwork:

Consider commissioning a piece of artwork that captures a special moment or symbolizes your relationship with your daughter. Custom paintings, prints, or even hand-drawn illustrations can be tailored to her tastes and preferences.

Experience Gifts:

Instead of a physical gift, create lasting memories with experience gifts. Plan a special day together, such as a spa day, cooking class, concert, or a weekend getaway. These experiences not only show your love but also create unforgettable bonding moments.

Customized Photo Album:

Compile a collection of precious photos from various stages of your daughter’s life into a custom photo album. You can add captions or notes alongside the pictures to create a narrative of her journey.

Personalized Storybook:

For younger daughters, consider a personalized storybook where she becomes the protagonist of her own adventure. These books can be customized with her name and even her likeness, making storytime an even more magical experience.

Birthstone Jewelry:

If your daughter has a special connection to her birthstone, consider gifting her jewelry featuring it. Birthstone necklaces, rings, or bracelets not only have sentimental value but also add a touch of elegance to her style.

Personalized Quilts or Blankets:

Wrap your daughter in warmth and love with a personalized quilt or blanket. You can have her name or a loving message embroidered onto the fabric, creating a cozy reminder of your affection.

Conclusion:

Choosing the perfect gift for your daughter is a wonderful way to express your love, appreciation, and pride. Whether it’s a personalized piece of jewelry, a heartfelt letter, or an unforgettable experience, the thought and effort you put into selecting a unique and sentimental gift will undoubtedly leave a lasting impression on her heart. So, take the time to celebrate the special bond you share with your daughter and make her day extraordinary with a meaningful and personalized gift.

[cowboystudies]

hiiiii i'm feeling bad. the gf is feeling bad. next week one of my jobs starts again and I need to be ready for that. i will 100% feel worse when it starts up again, not to mention how many hours i need to make up. so, so much to do and so, so little time.

as such. welcome to my top ten for tomorrow:

take out trash. it's gross. there's so much of it. it needs to go. do this before the gf wakes up

order groceries + imperfect order. need to also to use the avocadoes probably.

post tik tok idea from friday. draft post idea for sunday. get it out of my brain.

listen to 30 minutes of audiobooks. do this while the gf is asleep + it gets too hot to do anything. while listening: pick up hangers from office / start laundry / grab dishes from the gf's bedside table / sweep the hallways + living room / mop under chair / throw away trash from my bedside table / put coats in closet

do yoga. also do while the gf is asleep, with headphones + new mat. stop punishing your body.

stop neglecting your hobbies. fix quilt (after the gf wakes up, have them help me place pins) / do writing sprint

look into hysa accounts. maybe interest >15% ?? i have no idea what's typical.

life admin. answer A email / answer S text / charge the gf for bulbs / thaw chicken for sunday dinner (ramen + eggs + chicken) / plan cafe date / deal with that bill (text A) / update LI w/ async program / text AL back

tiktok favs down to 3900. try to get rid of: all storytimes -> all quinn recommendations -> all romance novels -> all deleted ones -> all book recommendations (this is gonna take forever. just write them down physically bc that's faster) -> bookmark shops + products -> choose one recipe to try and emulate -> video essay recommendations

go to event!! have fun!! only buy 2 books!! make the gf buy me a lemonade!

other stuff I wanna do:

make bed

unsubscribe from 5 email lists (cancel detroit news subscription after downloading article)

go through underwear, toss gross ones

get rid of 3 article of clothing

label 1 shelf on fridge?

spend 30 minutes working on med school article

email MT

charge portable charger

charge portable speaker

try and do all daily habits!!

take iron / take lexapro / NO adderall

MAKE SURE TO DROP OFF TAX THING!!!

[hareofhrair]

Modathon: I start a game of Fallout 4 or Skyrim and at every donation milestone add more mods until the game crashes or I complete it. Any% to start, stretch goal for 100%

Storytime: Donate to make me read things out loud. Start with a classic like My Immortal, move on to something truly dreadful like Ben Shapiro’s “True Allegiance.”

Know-It-All AMA: Donate to ask me questions about literally anything and if I don’t already have a prepared lecture about it, you get to watch me go research it until I can give a prepared lecture. Let’s learn together!

Quick, give me your best ideas for stupid internet stunts someone could do to fundraise. Of the “I’m going to marathon myself playing a game im bad at for days” variety.

[the-sewing-counselor]

Quilting Storytime: My "First" Quilt

[vivekkabra]

Read that again. Did you feel that before? . . . #poetry #bestoftheday #truelines #love #inkedlife #inked #inkedworld #instadaily #igreads #igwriters #igquiltfest #quotes #spilledwords #quilting #romance #igwords #instalove #spilledink #uni #storytime #iglife #wordstagram #instapoetry #instaquote #flirt #flirting #lovestagram #tumblrquotes #igpoetry #igquotes https://www.instagram.com/p/B1tXs1PpD61/?igshid=1jyilw2vy6tgd

[mysteriouseggsbenedict]

mr benedict and constance softness <3

this is so fluffy and comforting and healing my inner child <3

Constance slid under the sheets of her bed, her small hands grasping at the quilt and pulling it towards her neck. She grunted as her head sunk into the pillow. She had been sent to bed after telling Number Two she smelled like poo. According to Mr. Benedict, she was “grumpy when she was tired.” Hmmph. He’ll see about that.

Mr. Benedict sat on the edge of her bed and tucked her favorite stuffed animal securely beside her. Constance squeezed it— a stuffed dragon— close to her chest, taking out her anger on its plush scales and soft wings. 

“I’m not tired. And I’m right. Number Two needs to take a shower,” Constance complained. Mr. Benedict’s lips twitched (she knew his weaknesses) but he maintained a stern face with some effort. 

“Mmm. Well, little girls who aren’t tired should have no trouble keeping their eyes open for storytime, should they?” 

Constance scowled.

“I hate storytime,” she muttered. “Do the one with rainforest animals.” 

Mr. Benedict obediently selected the rainforest book from Constance’s bookshelf. 

“After the story, I want to play cards,” Constance said. She had been enjoying card games recently because of her ability to predict everyone’s next moves. Mr. Benedict smiled.

“Of course. But, first— I wonder what the poison dart frogs are up to tonight…” 

Mr. Benedict began the story. His voice carried warmly across the room, repeating the words that Constance heard most nights, soft and inflected and doing voices for each animal. Constance giggled at his jaguar voice. The gorilla, too, made her laugh, although she’d kill anyone who told the secret. Soon Mr. Benedict reached the part of the story where the sun set and the animals went to bed. He described the quiet forest, the lush beds of green leaves where birds and lizards and frogs and mammals went to sleep…

Constance let her head lean back. Mr. Benedict’s voice made her feel safe, and her body was growing sleepier and sleepier with each paragraph. Her eyelids fluttered open and shut as she fought to keep them open. She gave a frustrated whine— she didn’t want to go to sleep! With a burst of determination, she opened her eyes all the way, fighting the fatigue pressing heavier and heavier upon her body. 

Then Mr. Benedict was brushing the hair from her forehead. His hands tread lightly as they tucked a stray blonde strand back behind her ear. She sighed, leaning against the stability his arm provided. She didn’t resist when he guided her to lie down again. 

“Are you warm enough?” he whispered. Constance snuggled under her blankets in reply. 

“Tummy full?” 

She’d snuck an extra brownie after dinner. Her absence of complaints served as an affirmative. 

“I’ll be right here in the morning. I’m so excited to spend another day with you,” Mr. Benedict whispered. Constance was falling asleep. Her eyes were now refusing to open.

“Goodnight, my dearest.”

[iamferal]

The troubles of being feral pt.20

ok so StoRyTiMe- My brother's cat is staying with me for a bit and to say we don't like each other is an.... understatement at best. My cat despises him and I fucking do too. 

He likes long walks on the beach, hissing at me, swiping at me (claws included), to steal my cat's food and... pissing on my bed.

Like he has an obsession with it. I swear to the gods above he’s pissed on my bed over 8 times and today was one of them.

So as per my last post, you all know my alpha is coming over today, and so I decided “HmM lEtS mAkE mY nEsT aLl cOmFoRtAbLe AnD nIcE aNd GoOd, wITH FRESH SHEETS TOO!” and literally today (like 15 mins ago at most) I go up to my nest, smell cat piss, look around my bed and there it is. A huge fucking puddle of my brother's dumbass cat's piss.

It's not JUST the sheets, it’s also the quilt, throw blankets, throw pillows and stuffed animals too. all of them. Covered in cat piss... I hate it here.

[coffintownkids]

hi! I love your mdzs translation posts, especially now that you're analysing the yi city chapters, and I was wondering if you'll make a post about the storytelling scene? it's one of my favourite scenes in the yi city arc (and I'm forever sad it didn't make it into cql.) of course I'm especially interested in the part when xy tells his childhood story, but I love the whole scene! so I'm very curious what interesting things you found there while translating.

Thank you so much!!!

I wasn't sure there was much interest in my translation posts now that the first official volume is out. Much appreciation for liking my personal passion project lol.

I'd be happy to share the Yi City Storytime. It's pretty long, since I couldn't find a good place to leave any of it out and I hope I did it justice. Enjoy!

One night, the winter wind was howling and the three of them were crowded together in the small room around a broken stove to keep warm. Xiǎo Xīngchén was mending a damaged bamboo vegetable basket. Ā-Qìng had thrown on the only quilt and had herself wrapped up like a dumpling as she rubbed at her sides. Xuē Yáng, as usual, had his cheek in his hand and had nothing to do. Listening as Ā-Qìng squawked away as she always did to coax Xiǎo Xīngchén into telling her a story, he lost his patience, “Quit carrying on. Keep it up and I’ll tie your tongue in a knot.”

Ā-Qìng simply didn’t listen to him and demanded, “Dàozháng, I wanna hear a story!”

Xiǎo Xīngchén said, “Nobody told me any stories when I was a child, so how would I tell you any?”

Ā-Qìng was completely tangled up and about to roll all over the floor when Xiǎo Xīngchén said, “Alright, I’ll go along with it and tell you a story about a mountain.”

Ā-Qìng said, “Once there was a mountain and on that mountain was a monastery?”

Xiǎo Xīngchén said, “No, once there was a nameless celestial mountain and on that mountain was a cultivator that became an Immortal. The Immortal accepted a great many disciples, but these disciples were forbidden from going down the mountain.”

From the moment he heard it, Wèi Wúxiàn immediately understood, “Bàoshān-sànrén.”

Ā-Qìng said, “Why were they forbidden from going down the mountain?”

Xiǎo Xīngchén said, “Because the Immortal herself did not understand the world beneath the mountain, so she hid away on the mountaintop. She told her disciples if they wanted to go down the mountain, they must never return. She did not want strife from the outside world brought back to the mountain.”

Ā-Qìng said, “How could anyone stand being held back like that? There had to have been disciples that couldn’t stop themselves from slipping down the mountain to play.”

Xiǎo Xīngchén said, “There were. The first one to go down the mountain had been a rather excellent disciple. He had just come down the mountain and, because of his masterful skill, everyone held him in high esteem and he became famous for being a proper cultivator. But later on, unknown misfortune befell him and his temperament underwent a massive change. He abruptly turned into a murderous, cold-blooded monster. In the end, he was hacked to pieces.”

The first of Bàoshān-sànrén’s disciples that “did not meet a good end” was the Taoist Yánlíng.

What actually happened to Wèi Wúxiàn’s shībóafter he left the mountain to enter the world and what befell him that changed his personality was still a mystery. He was afraid it would still remain unknown to people in the future. Xiǎo Xīngchén finished repairing the basket and felt it out. After confirming it wouldn’t prick his hand, he set it down and continued speaking, “The second had also been a rather excellent female disciple.”

It warmed Wèi Wúxiàn’s heart.

Cángsè-sànrén.

Ā-Qìng said, “Was she beautiful?”

Xiǎo Xīngchén said, “I don’t know. It was said that she was very beautiful.”

Ā-Qìng held her face in her hands, “I know then! After she went down the mountain, everyone definitely loved her and everyone wanted to marry her. Next, she must have married an important official or the leader of a Great House! Haha.”

Xiǎo Xīngchén smiled, “Your guessed wrong. She married the servant of a Great House leader and they ran off to faraway places together.”

Ā-Qìng said, “I don’t like that. How an excellent and beautiful cultivator can be seen as a lowly servant. This kind of story is lame. They’re always just fantasies by some poor, hemp-wearing, obsessive, whiny scholars. And then what? What happened after they wandered away together?”

Xiǎo Xīngchén said, “Afterwards, they both accidentally lost their lives on a Night Hunt.”

Ā-Qìng ‘ptooey’-ed and said, “What kind of story is this! Even if she married a servant, they still wound up dead together! I’m not listening!”

Wèi Wúxiàn thought, “Fortunately, Xiǎo Xīngchén didn’t continue by telling her those two gave birth to a major monster that was shouted at and beaten by everyone. Otherwise she’ll daringly tell me off while wanting to ‘ptoowy’ right at my head.”

Xiǎo Xīngchén helplessly said, “That’s why I said from the start that I don’t know how to tell stories.”

Ā-Qìng said, “Dàozháng, do you have any general memories of your experiences from previous Night Hunts? I’d love to hear them! Tell me, what kind of creatures have you fought before?”

Xuē Yáng had been squinting just then, as if he wasn’t paying attention, when he started subtly staring. His pupils contracted as he slanted his gaze towards Xiǎo Xīngchén.

Xiǎo Xīngchén said, “That’s a bit much.”

Xuē Yáng suddenly said, “Is it? Haven’t you always gone on Night Hunt alone, Dàozháng?”

His lips curled slightly, the Xuē Yáng who clearly had nothing good in mind. His voice, however, was filled with simple curiosity.

Pausing, Xiǎo Xīngchén had a faint smile as he said, “No.”

Ā-Qìng grew interested, “Who else was it with?”

This time, Xiǎo Xīngchén paused for even longer. After a long while, he simply said, “My nearest and dearest friend.”

A sly light flashed in Xuē Yáng’s eyes and the smile on his face grew stronger. Apparently, revealing Xiǎo Xīngchén’s scars gave him no small amount of pleasure. Ā-Qìng, however, was genuinely curious, “Dàozháng, who is your friend? What are they like?”

Xiǎo Xīngchén easily said, “He is a truly authentic gentleman with a noble and pure character.”

Hearing him say that, Xuē Yáng disdainfully rolled his eyes, lips barely moving, as if he were silently muttering a few curses. However, he deliberately pretended he didn’t understand as he said, “Dàozháng, where’s your friend these days? You’re currently living like this, so why hasn’t he come looking for you?”

Wèi Wúxiàn thought, “This is a really insidious little knife.”

Sure enough, Xiǎo Xīngchén stopped talking. Although Ā-Qìng didn’t understand the situation, she seemed to pick up on it. She scarcely was breathing as she silently cut a look over to Xuē Yáng. There was a faint itch down in the roots of her teeth, as if she couldn’t wait to bite him. Lost in thought for a while, Xiǎo Xīngchén broke his silence by saying, “I don’t know where he is now, either. But I hope that…”

Before he finished speaking, he pet Ā-Qìng’s head, “Okay, we’ll stop here for the night. I honestly can’t tell stories. It’s rather embarrassing.”

Ā-Qìng obediently said, “Oh, okay!”

Who knew that Xuē Yáng would suddenly say, “How about I tell one?”

Ā-Qìng was utterly dismayed and immediately said, “Well, alright. Tell me one.”

Xuē Yáng drawled, “Once there was a child.

This child absolutely loved to eat sweets, but because he had no father, no mother, and no money, he rarely got to eat them. One day, he sat as he always did in front of a stoop while blankly staring into space. Opposite the stoop was a tavern and there was a man seated at a table inside with a feast upon it. He spotted the child and beckoned him to come over.”

Although the beginning of this story also wasn’t all that good, it was stronger than Xiǎo Xīngchén’s cliché one. If Ā-Qìng had a pair of rabbit ears, then they’d be standing up at attention right now for sure.

Xuē Yáng continued, “The child was ignorant and of course didn’t know what he should do. One look at someone beckoning him over and he immediately ran over. The man pointed at a plate with dessert and said, ‘do you want to eat it?’

“Of course he very much wanted to eat it and desperately nodded. Then the man gave the child a letter and said, ‘if you want to eat it, then deliver this to a certain room at a certain place and I’ll give it to you afterwards.’

“The child was ecstatic. If he runs this letter over, he can have dessert and it will be a dessert that he himself earned.

“He was illiterate. He took the letter to the specified destination to deliver it and a burly man came out. He took the letter and looked it over and then struck him square in the face with his palm, making his nose bleed. He yanked him by the hair and asked, ‘who ordered you to deliver such a thing?’”

The child must have been Xuē Yáng himself.

This went against Wèi Wúxiàn’s expectations. He was so perceptive now, yet as a child he was so naïve and dim-witted. He did as he was told by other people. What was written in that letter certainly hadn’t been flattery. The man at the tavern had likely been with the burly man celebrating after a festival of some kind and wouldn’t himself dare curse at him right to his face, so he called a kid over to deliver the insult. This sort of behavior could be considered deplorable.

Xuē Yáng said, “His mind was full of fear as he pointed out the direction. The burly man walked over to the tavern still holding him by the hair, but the other man had long-since run off. Plus the table had already been cleared of its dessert by the shop attendant. The big man was furious and threw several tables around inside, then was cursing up a storm as he walked out.

“The child was so anxious. He ran to deliver the letter, suffered a beating, had his hair yanked hard enough that his scalp was nearly torn off. Not eating dessert was absolutely out of the question. Then he tearfully asked the attendant, ‘Where’s my dessert? The dessert he agreed to let me eat?’”

With a smile, Xuē Yáng said, “The attendant’s shop had been smashed up and his mind was brimming with pure resentment. He slapped the child’s face a few times to shoo him out the door and the hitting made his ears ring. He climbed to his feet and stood up in the road and can you guess what he saw? What a coincidence, he came across the man who had called him over to deliver the letter.”

Now that he got here, he wouldn’t continue speaking past that. Ā-Qìng was completely entranced as she listened and urged him on, “Then what? What happened?”

Xuē Yáng said, “What else? Still nothing but more hitting and kicking.”

Ā-Qìng said, “That was you, right? You love sweets, so it had to be you! Why were you like that as a kid! If we traded places, first I’d spit in his food and his tea. Then I’d whack, whack, whack…”

She was gesticulating wildly and nearly hit Xiǎo Xīngchén sitting beside her so he said, “Alright, alright. Storytime is over. Time for bed.”

Ā-Qìng was carried over to her coffin by him and she was still angrily flailing, “Damn it! Both of your stories really piss me off! One bored me to tears and I despised the other one! Oh man, I absolutely despise the man that called him over to deliver the letter! I’m so pissed!”

Xiǎo Xīngchén got her tucked into her quilt, took a few steps away, then asked, “And after that?”

Xuē Yáng said, “What do you think? Nothing happened after. You didn’t continue with your story, either.”

Xiǎo Xīngchén said, “No matter what happened after, since you can currently say you’re safe now, you needn’t be too depressed about the past.”

Xuē Yáng said, “I’m not depressed about the past. It’s just that the blind kid steels my candy every day and finished eating them. I couldn’t help but be made to remember a time from before when I couldn’t eat any.”

Ā-Qìng kicked her coffin with all her might and protested, “Dàozháng, don’t listen to him spout nonsense! I really didn’t eat thatmuch!”

Xiǎo Xīngchén smiled softly, “Get some rest.”

Xuē Yáng didn’t go with him that night and Xiǎo Xīngchén went Night Hunting by himself. Ā-Qìng lay motionless as she rested in her coffin, but she never slept and her eyes were open. As day began to lighten, Xiǎo Xīngchén entered without making a sound. He passed by her coffin and reached in toward her. Ā-Qìng closed her eyes and pretended to sleep. She waited until Xiǎo Xīngchén left the coffin house again and only then did she open her eyes. Only she spotted that he had placed a small candy beside her pillow made of straw.

She poked her head out and looked towards the sleeping quarters.

Xuē Yáng hadn’t gone to sleep either. He was sitting by the table and didn’t know what to think.

A piece of candy was quietly lying by the edge of the table.

It's not until the final confrontation between XY and XXC that we get to hear the rest of his story.

Xiǎo Xīngchén pulled out Shuānghuá and intended to stab him again when Xuē Yáng started talking, “Xiǎo Xīngchén-dàozháng, I never finished telling you my story. Don’t you want to hear the rest of it?”

Xiǎo Xīngchén said, “I don’t.”

Although he refused, his head tilted slightly to the side and his sword froze in place. Xuē Yáng said, “Well, despite that I want to tell you. After I tell you, if you still think I was wrong, do whatever you want.”

He casually rubbed at the wound in his abdomen, pressing down on it to keep it from bleeding too much, “That little kid, when he saw the man who tricked him into delivering that letter, he felt so wronged and yet so happy. He cried loudly and rushed to go tell him, ‘I delivered the letter, but there was no dessert, and I was beaten. Can you give me another one?’

“But the man looked like he’d just been caught by the burly guy. He’d been beaten and his face was injured. And he saw this filthy child clinging to his leg. He was extremely jittery and started kicking him away.

“He climbed up into an ox cart and ordered the driver to leave at once. The child got up and chased after the cart and kept running. He wanted to eat the sweet dessert so badly that he managed to overtake them. He got in front of the cart and waved at them to make them stop. The man was annoyed by his crying and carrying on, so he snatched the whip from his driver’s hand and lashed the child’s head, knocking him to the ground.”

He dragged out every word, “Then, the cart’s wheels crushed the child’s hand, one after the other!”

It didn’t matter that Xiǎo Xīngchén couldn’t see him. Xuē Yáng raised his left hand towards him, “I was seven! All the bones in my left hand were crushed and my finger was ground into a puddle of sludge right on the spot! That man was Cháng Píng’s father."

The rest of their confrontation can be found in this post.

I hope this post had what you were looking for and I'm more than happy to take requests on other parts (though I am still only up to ch.42 in my own very slow reading - I am not a native speaker, so I apologize that it takes me so long to update!)

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

oasis

Peter Quill x Reader

Prompt: “can we share the blanket?”

Summary: quill catches you building a blanket fort to surprise groot with, and surprises you by helping. the two of you decide to test it out before the crew get back, and he shows you a side of him you haven’t really seen before.

Warnings: smut, fluff, hint of angst, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, adult language.

Word Count: 4,486

Got a Request? Prompt List: here

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You were humming quietly along with the dulcet sound of the Fleetwood Mac you’d left playing over the ship’s speakers, enjoying the way it echoed lightly down the metal walls of the corridor towards you. You made your way down to the cargo bay of the Benatar, your arms piled high with the sheets and blankets you’d just pilfered from your bunk. You cursed quietly to yourself as the toe of your slipper caught on a seam in the floor, tripping you up slightly as you went. Still, it did nothing to dull your good mood.

You dumped the blankets on the floor once you reached the quiet corner of the cargo bay you’d selected earlier, joining the stacks of pillows you’d already brought out between two shoulder-high storage crates. You smiled, pleased with yourself, releasing a happy sigh before setting about your self-appointed task. You never got hours like this, peaceful, simple moments without the sounds of crewmates arguing or the clattering of metal on metal. You loved your life with the Guardians, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t sometimes crave the quiet.

You bent over, searching through the stack of blankets for the biggest.

“Not that I mind the view, but you wanna tell me what you’re doing with my bedding?”

You jumped, startled, before arching your neck to look back over your shoulder. Peter Quill was standing behind you, leaning his shoulder against the ladder to the cockpit with his arms folded across his chest. He’d removed his jacket since re-boarding, the short sleeves of his tee shirt showcasing the muscles in his arms. He had an eyebrow raised in wry amusement, a trademark smirk on his lips. You rolled your eyes at him before turning back to what you were doing, unsure if you’d imagined his gaze lingering over your backside.

“Your bedding is safe. This is all from crew quarters,” you assured him. Both you and Mantis struggled with the cold of the ship when you were off world, so you’d made it a mission even before she’d joined the crew to always have more than enough blankets on board. They’d kind of become bulky souvenirs of the planets you visited, and you usually kept them stacked in a locker in the corner of the bunk you shared with her and Gamora. Thankfully now that you’d all upgraded to the Benatar, you had more space – while Quill, as captain, still had his own private quarters, there was now an extra bunk for Drax, Rocket and Groot to use. You glanced down at the pillow in front of you. “…and a few from the medical supply crate.”

“What, you finally got sick of hearing Drax’s snoring through the wall?”

You turned around to face him properly, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Are you kidding? It’s like white noise to me now. I don’t think I could ever sleep again without an active sawmill present.” Quill chuckled. “What are you doing back? You guys only left like an hour ago.”

He shrugged. “Xandar gets boring fast.”

It was your turn to raise a brow. “There’s a whole planet out there full of gullible idiots, pretty women with loose morals, and plentiful booze. What more could you want?”

“Wow.” he snickered. “I feel seen.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “So? Why couldn’t all the wonders of Xandar’s seedy underbelly hold your attention, Star Lord?”

He ignored the question, the easy smile still on his lips. “The hell are you doing, Y/N?”

“Why don’t you come join me and find out?”

He gave you a smirk, the glint in his eyes mischievous. “Can we share the blanket?”

“I think there’s more than enough to go around,” you said dryly, and his smile widened. Your impatient answers to his flirty remarks always seemed to entertain him. Which was probably why he kept doing it. “But that would be the idea.”

“Huh?”

You pulled one of the pillows to your chest and wrapped your arms around it. “It’s a surprise. For Groot.”

“Is he sick of Drax’s snoring?”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, standing and shaking out one of the largest, heavier quilts. You flung it over the crates, letting it hang over them like a canopy. “I’m building him a pillow fort, jackass.”

“A pillow fort.”

“Yup.”

“A pillow fort.”

You gave him an exasperated look. “Quill.”

“Why exactly?”

“C’mon, dude.” you said, tossing a pillow at him. He caught it, one-handed, with a grin. “Didn’t you ever build a pillow fort as a kid?”

Peter was quiet for a moment before he made a show of rolling his eyes and shrugging. Still, a small smile teased at the corner of his lips. “Want a hand?”

***

You sighed in satisfaction, wiping your hands together as you surveyed your work. The two of you had, on his suggestion, shoved the crates back against the wall, and in the little alcove you’d created together was one hell of a pillow fort. You’d draped sheets and blankets over the entire thing and layered more over the metal floor. Pillows had been thrown into haphazard piles, making the whole thing seem like some kind of gaudy, cozy nest. Quill had surprised you by rigging the string of lights he and Rocket sometimes used to do repairs at night to a much lower brightness and had hung them around the makeshift tent like the fairy lights you’d had as a kid.

“I think it’s safe to say that we nailed it.” you said proudly, holding up a hand. Peter grinned beside you, slapping it with his own in a high-five. “Groot is gonna love it. Storytime was always better in a fort when I was a kid.”

“Wanna try it out?”

You grinned widely at him, and the two of you dropped to your knees at the same time. Peter held the ‘door’ open for you, letting it drop closed behind him as he crawled inside after you. You turned to collapse happily among the cushions, sighing contentment as you stretched out languidly. Peter took a similar position beside you; the two of you barely fit inside, his shoulder bumping against yours. You bent your knees and drew them up towards you to bring them inside the fort, and you hooked one over one of his. He had his bent as well, and your foot dangled a couple of inches off the floor. He tucked his hand behind his head, looking over at you with an amused smile.

“Comfy?”

Peter looked up, considering the fort. “Y’know, I don’t think we made it big enough.”

You furrowed your brow, turning your head to look at him. “What d’you mean? Groot and I will be fine in here.”

He shrugged. “I’m just sayin’, we barely fit in here as it is…”

“Why, Peter Ignatius Quill,” you said teasingly, laughing when he cocked an eyebrow at you. “Are you saying that you want to join us for story time?”

“You know that’s not my middle name, right?”

“I blanked.” you admitted with a shrug. “What is it?”

He laughed loudly, the sound breaking through the peaceful bubble the two of you had created between the blankets. “It’s Jason!”

“My bad,” you giggled, shying away from his as he reached out to poke you in the side. “It was the first thing I thought of!”

“Think of something cooler next time!”

“Alright, alright…” you surrendered, turning your head towards him and reaching over to prod his arm with a fingertip. “But don’t dodge the question. Are you – the big, bad, space pirate leader of the Guardians of the Galaxy—saying you would like to come read children’s stories with me and Groot?”

“It is such a turn on when you start describing me like that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

“Seriously, I get all tingly, all the way down to my—"

“You’re still avoiding the question.” you said pointedly, cutting him off. He breathed a quiet chuckle as you did, his bottom lip catching between his teeth. “Story time?”

“Well, why not?”

“You know we’ve moved past picture books, right?”

He smacked you lazily on the bicep with the back of his hand by way of retort, letting his hand fall back to rest on his stomach. He interlocked his fingers above his belt buckle, the picture of casual relaxation. Your leg was still thrown over his, your calf pressed against his inner thigh. His gaze returned to the canopy above, and you studied the angle of his jaw absentmindedly, your eyes tracing along the dusting of strawberry blonde stubble that seemed darker in the muted light. “I spent a good chunk of my quality time building this stupid thing, I should get some use out of it.”

You raised a cynical brow, amused. The two of you never could help but poke at each other with childish barbs and banter, maybe even more so than the two of you dished it out to the other members of the crew. Maybe it was a reflex at this point, but it was still always entertaining. You affected an offended tone as you spoke again, even with a smile on your face. “Well, if you think it’s so stupid, why’d you spend all this time on it?”

“It’s not…” Peter sighed, shaking his head. “Sorry. It’s not stupid. It’s just…”

Your brow furrowed as you watched him struggle to find the words. You sobered, surprised that he hadn’t caught you in your joke. Instead, he seemed… flustered. “Quill?”

“You know, I forgot about it ‘til now.” he said ruefully, almost disbelievingly. He raised a hand to run his fingers through his hair. “…I used to build these when I was a kid.”

“Yeah…” you said slowly, confused. “I mean, a lot of kids did…”

He sighed, shaking his head. “No, I mean when my Mom got sick.”

“Oh.”

It was all you could think to say.

“It got… it got really hard, once she was hospitalized.” he said, a small, sad smile playing on his lips. His voice was soft and thoughtful, almost as if he’d forgotten you were there. Even so many years later, you could hear the thread of pain in his words. He reached up to touch his fingers to the edge of one of the blankets. “I built one of these one night, and basically never left it. I’d tuck myself away in it for hours with my Walkman and just ignore the rest of the world. Got to the point where I didn’t even come out for meals; Grandpa had to drag me outta there every day for school.”

You hesitated a moment before reaching over slowly and covering his hand with your own. “Peter…”

His eyebrows twitched upward as he looked down at your hand in surprise. You felt his hand turn under yours, his fingers smoothing almost carefully over your skin as he took hold of it. He looked up, turning his head to meet your eye. “You never call me that.”

You could feel the rise and fall of his stomach against your fingers with each breath he took. The edge of his belt buckle brushed against your knuckle; a stark coldness compared to the surprising heat of his body.  You meant your response to be cavalier, dismissive even, at this sudden change in the atmosphere between the two of you. Instead, it came out softly, barely more than a murmur. “Sure, I do.”

He shook his head, a small smile curving at one side of his mouth. Even though neither of you had moved, he seemed so much closer to you now, the two of you shoulder to shoulder. “No, you don’t. Not really. Closest you’ve ever gotten was tacking ‘Ignatius’ on it just now.”

You shook your head in amusement, smiling back at him. “It was a joke.”

His thumb brushed rhythmically over the back of your hand, his head turning to look back up at the blankets above you. “Sure it was.”

“What do you care?” you said teasingly. “I didn’t think you liked your first name so much, Star Lord.”

He shrugged the shoulder pressed against yours, meeting your eye again. His eyes were dark in the dull light, shining with amusement and affection. They were almost magnetic, and you felt warmth rise in your cheeks as your gaze fell to his lips briefly. You felt his hand squeeze yours, and there was a charming, knowing quirk to his lips that made your heartbeat quicken.

You swallowed as he leaned towards you, and when he spoke, his lips were barely an inch from yours, his voice was so soft that you almost didn’t hear it over your own heart.

“I don’t mind it so much when you say it.”

Peter’s lips met yours, brushing against them in a chaste, whisper of a kiss. It was soft and gentle, his nose bumping against yours. His tongue touched your bottom lip as you parted them to breathe, his thumb still smoothing circles over your hand. You felt a shiver tingle its way up your spine, and his other hand came up to slide over the leg still thrown over his as he rolled onto his side to face you. His tongue slid languidly over yours, and you could feel his smile as he kissed you more deeply.

You exhaled shakily against his lips as his hand smoothed up your thigh, and he gave a light snicker as you parted, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Apparently you really like it.” you said after a moment, your voice unsteady. He grinned, his hand still trailing slowly up your leg, and your breath caught as it teased down to your inner thigh. He moved to kiss you again, but you pressed your free hand to his chest. “Peter.”

He smiled softly and reached up to tuck hair behind your ear, his fingers trailing along your jaw. “Yeah?”

“What exactly are we doing?”

He smirked, his face moving towards yours again. “Want me to draw you a diagram?”

Peter kissed you again, his hand on the side of your neck. You let it linger for a moment, your fingers curling in the front of his shirt and tugging him closer. Peter responded eagerly, his hand moving down to take hold of your hip and pulling you towards him. You rolled onto your side, and Peter slung your leg up over his hip, his hand sliding up the back of it. It lingered just below the curve of your ass, gripping your leg almost possessively.

You felt his hips press suggestively into yours, and you couldn’t help but whimper against his lips, your hand tugging at the hair at the back of his head. Peter chuckled as you did, and you pulled away, embarrassed by your reaction.

You moved your hand to his shoulder, avoiding his gaze and looking down at his chest. You took a steadying breath, willing your heart to stop pounding. “Peter.”

You could feel a quiet laugh in his chest, his hand moving up to your waist. You shivered as his fingers ghosted up under your shirt to tease at bare skin. “Y/N.”

Your lips parted, intent on questioning him again… to ask what you were doing, where this sudden change in your friendship had come from… to ask what would happen later, if you didn’t stop. But then you felt the gentle, affectionate brush of his lips against your forehead, and suddenly, you didn’t feel the need to talk anymore. Instead, you met his eyes for a moment before you kissed him again, cupping his cheek in your hand.

Peter smiled into the kiss, the hand on your hip moving to the small of your back, urging you closer to him. The cold metal of his belt buckle was a stark contrast to the heat of his body, and your ran your other hand down his stomach to the hem of his shirt. He groaned lightly into your mouth as your fingers crept under his shirt to caress the smooth skin of his stomach. You traced your nails over the muscles, and they twitched in response.

His hand moved to your ass, squeezing it eagerly and urging you closer. Peter slung his hips into yours, and you whimpered into his kiss at the feeling of him hardening against your thigh. Your hand moved to his side, and he broke the kiss with a light laugh, his face falling to the crook of your neck.

You grinned widely. “Are you ticklish?”

“Pfft, no!” he scoffed obnoxiously, wriggling away from you as you ran your fingertips across his waist again. “You—”

He caught hold of your hands, forcing you onto your back and straddling your waist. He pinned them on either side of your head, a cocksure smirk on his face as he looked down at you. “Now you’re in trouble.”

You snickered, wetting your lips with your tongue. You pushed your hips up into his suggestively. “Yeah? What are you gonna do about it, Star Lord?”

His grin widened, interlacing his fingers with yours and moving them above your head as he bent down towards you. His nose brushed lightly against yours, his mouth hovering teasingly above yours. You arched up to kiss him again, and he moved out of reach playfully, instead trailing kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck.

He lingered over your pulse point, and your eyes closed, a light moan escaping you as he sucked a mark into your skin. “Oh, well, that just sounded… cute.” He murmured against your skin, releasing your hands, and tugging your shirt up over your stomach. “But, that’s not what I’m looking for.”

He moved down to press kisses down your stomach, and you ran a hand through his hair. He leaned into it as he undid your jeans with practiced ease, and your hand tightened reflexively as he tugged them roughly down your thighs. Goosebumps erupted over your legs, his nose ghosting over your stomach and his teeth catching the waistband of your underwear and snapping it against your skin teasingly.

“And what exactly are you— Oh!” you jerked under him as he forced your legs apart and bit your inner thigh, his hands gripping tightly at your hips as he lathed his tongue over the mark he left behind.

“Closer…”

“I’m not ticklish, Quill.” you told him, rolling your eyes as you caught on to what he was trying to do. “But I— fuck, Peter!”

You bucked under him as he pushed your underwear to the side and rolled his tongue against your clit, your hand tightening in his hair. He snickered at your reaction, the sound devolving into a groan as your nails scraped against his scalp, his stubble agitating the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he brought you undone with his tongue.

The lights danced behind your eyelids as Peter slid two fingers inside you; tucked away in your little oasis and feeling everything he did to you made your heart flutter and your stomach tighten. You grabbed at the pillow under your head as you rolled your hips up into him, your chest heaving. “Pete—fuck, don’t… God, I’m gonna—”

He sucked on your clit and you came, arching up against him and your thighs clenching around him. You moaned aloud as you did, too loud for your little hideaway, eyes squeezed shut and toes curling. Peter continued to slowly pump his fingers inside you as he moved up to kiss your hip softly before straightening into a kneel between your legs. He watched his hand, his thumb circling lightly over your clit. He broke into a wide smirk as you twitched at the sensation, his eyes travelling up your body to your face. “Yeah, you love it.”

You bumped your knee hard against his side by way of retort and he finally withdrew his hand with a grin, holding your gaze as he licked his fingers clean. “You’re an ass.”

“Yeah?” he ran a hand up your thigh, his other unbuckling his belt. “What are you gonna do about it?”

You pushed yourself up onto your elbow, fisting a hand in his shirt and dragging him down for a kiss. It was long, and languid, his tongue sliding over yours, his hand on your hip and his thumb hooked in the waistband of your underwear. You broke away to tug at his shirt pointedly and he straightened to pull it off. Your eyes followed the muscles of his arms, your hand smoothing over a pectoral as he leaned down to kiss you again. He dropped the shirt to the side, moving to remove yours as well.

You stopped him, urging him back down onto the cushions. You swung a leg over his hips slowly, running your hands down his chest before pulling off your shirt. Peter’s eyes dropped heatedly to your chest as you unclipped your bra, his lips parting. He looked almost awed as he stared up at you, his face cast in shadows by the dull lights above you. Your spine tingled at his expression, and you held his gaze as you ran your hands over your chest and rolled your hips slowly over his.

Peter’s head fall back against the pillows at the sensation, his eyes closing and a soft groan slipping between his lips. The sound was intoxicating, as was the feeling of the hard length of his erection pressing up against you. You bit your lip, brow creased as you slowly continued to grind against him. His hands slid up over your thighs, squeezing them rhythmically with every roll of your hips.

You scratched your nails lightly down his stomach before unfastening his pants and wrapping your fingers around his cock. His breath caught as you did, leaving him in a shaky sigh as you stroked him, moved your underwear to the side and slowly sunk down onto his erection. “Jesus Christ, Y/N…”

“Yeah,” you said breathlessly, offering him a cocky smile of your own. “You love it.”

He laughed quietly, taking hold of your hips as you began to fuck yourself onto him slowly. You leaned forward to take hold of his biceps, enjoying the feel of the bulging muscles under your hands as you rode him. He encouraged you to grind against his pelvic bone and you whimpered; you could feel him stretching you wonderfully, each corkscrew of your hips sending sparks dancing up your lower back.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he muttered, watching you with half-lidded eyes. He ran a hand up your side to your ribs, his thumb resting along the curve of the underside of your breast. “You’re like… fuck, you’re like…”

“Having trouble finding the words there, Star Lord?” you teased quietly, your head lolling back, your eyes closed. You moaned as he pinched your nipple, rolling it between his fingers.

“Can’t help it,” he replied, exhaling slowly as you down to press kisses to his collarbone. His hand moved to your hair, bunching by your ear, and you felt his lips brush the top of your head. “None of my blood is exactly rushing to my brain right now.”

“I’m flattered,” you joked lightly, nipping playfully at his throat.

“But I can say: you call me that again, and this’ll be over a lot quicker than it should be.”

You giggled into his neck, kissing him headily before straightening again. You ran your hands up your sides, bouncing languidly on top of him. Each rise and fall had him sliding against your g-spot, and you bit your lip, your eyes rolling back as his hand returned to your sex. He circled your clit with his thumb and you moaned brokenly.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’ve got fucking fantastic tits, sweets?”

You whined, cupping your breasts and squeezing. Your hips jerked as he pinched your clit, and he swore, thrusting up into you. “Somehow, it – oh, fuck, Peter—”

“God, you’ve got the sweetest voice,” he sat up, his free hand ghosting up your side and gliding over your chest. You shivered at the feeling of it, falling against him, your hips never stopping. Peter’s fingers quickened on your clit as you wrapped your arms around his neck, and he murmured in your ear as you tightened around him, an intoxicating mix of sweet nothings and cursing. You ran your fingers through his hair, clinging to him s you felt your orgasm approach.

Peter wrapped his other arm around your waist and bit down on your shoulder, and you came with a cry, hips stuttering against his as each wave of it hit.

Peter hooked his fingers under your chin and raised it gently from where your face was buried against his neck, pressing a kiss to your temple… your cheek… your forehead… the tip of your nose… as you came down, before cupping your face in his hand and capturing you in another breath-stealing kiss.

You rode him unsteadily as your hips shuddered with aftershocks, your thighs squeezing around him. Peter grunted against your lips, his moan muffled as he came, still buried inside you.

“Y/N…”

You kissed him again, your chest heaving against his, eyes fluttering open as you finally caught your breath. “Mmm?”

He grinned at you, pushing hair out of your face with a careful hand. “Yeah. You love it.”

You shoved at his chest, smiling as he laughed in response. You climbed off of his lap shakily, your face warm. “You’re such a—”

Peter let himself fall back against the pillows again, refastening his pants but not bothering with his belt. “Heartthrob? Casanova? Sexual—”

“Deviant?”

Peter smirked, reaching up to ruffle your hair. You ducked away from him, smacking at his arm as you found your bra and clipped it back into place. “Where’re you going?”

“The last thing we need is for the crew to come back and find us like this,” you pointed out, tugging on your pants and the first shirt you grabbed. “Rocket’ll never let us hear the end of it, and Drax’ll be… Drax.”

“That’s a good look on you.” Peter said, his hands tucked behind his head. You looked down at yourself; you’d pulled on his shirt instead of your own. You flushed, but he caught hold of your wrist before you could pull it off again. “Leave it.”

You smiled down at him softly, tucking hair behind your ear. “Isn’t that just as obvious?”

Peter’s hand moved down to your hand, delicately interlacing his fingers with yours. “Would it be so bad?”

“You… you want the others to know about this?”

He pushed himself up onto his elbow, his free hand sliding against the side of your neck and giving you an affectionate smile before pulling you down for a soft, lingering kiss.

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tags: @peterquillthecutest @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink​ @s0ftness​ @bombardia​

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