#i know they probably never really got to look at the landscape when they were driving but doesn't this all look so pretty!!

[christiangeistdorfer]

some ✨ a e s t h e t i c ✨ vintage rally pictures i have found in magazines, part 1/?

#💝✨ #they are mostly from the 70s or 80s #i know they probably never really got to look at the landscape when they were driving but doesn't this all look so pretty!! #wrc #rally #vintage rally #rally racing #group b #motorsport #1970s #1980s

[togrowoldinv]

A True Love’s Kiss

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

When Natasha gets brainwashed, it’s up to you to bring her back to her formal self. It’s not an easy task, but maybe your love for her is the key to unlocking her memories

Note: Woohoo Natasha. Just a fun (kinda angsty) little idea I came up with today. Enjoy this one!

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

It’s a quiet morning as you run through the park. Memories of the last few years flash through your head, but you shake them away.

It’s been six months since you’ve heard from any of the Avengers. The so called ‘family’ left you out to dry the moment that things ended with you and Natasha.

In hindsight, it was a terrible idea to date the woman you worked with. But you knew you were in love with her and life felt too short to deny that.

You’re on the way back to your car when you sense it. A few moments later, two of your ‘old friends’ walk into your view.

“Y/n,” Steve begins. You don’t look at him.

“Come on, y/n. Look at us,” Clint adds.

“Why should I? I haven’t heard from any of you in months. All you did was side with Natasha,” you say bitterly.

“We’re sorry,” Steve says. You hate that it really seems like he means it. “Things got messy and we weren’t there for you.”

“Understatement of the century,” you remark.

You decide you’ve had enough of this. You move to open the car door but are stopped short by Clint’s next words.

“It’s Natasha,” Clint says. “She’s been compromised and we think the only person she’ll talk to is you.”

You sigh.

“And why do you think that?” You ask.

“We’ve tried everything. It’s our last idea,” Steve says. His tone has a sadness to it. “Will you come with us? Please. For Nat?”

You don’t reply, but you simply grab a bag of clothes from your car and walk closer to Steve and Clint. They’ll take that as a yes.

After walking to the quinjet, Clint takes the reins while Steve explains to you what happened to Natasha.

“She’s not herself. None of us have been able to stop her from these missions she’s been on,” he explains. “It seems like it could be the red room again. Like they’ve brainwashed her.”

“How did this even happen? How did she get that far out of reach in the first place?” You ask.

Steve hesitates to answer.

“Tell her,” Clint says.

“Tell me what?”

“Y/n, when you and Natasha broke up she went into hiding,” Steve says. “You never heard from us because we’ve been busy trying to find her. Now that we have, we have to figure out how to bring her in.”

“We found her in Russia,” Steve continues. “She’s good at what she does, you know that. But her heartbreak made her incredibly vulnerable. Even before she left the Avengers, her focus was somewhere else. Probably on how she broke your heart.”

“So this is my fault?” You wonder aloud. You don’t know if that makes you angry or sad. Maybe both.

“No,” Steve says. “It’s no one’s fault. Nat chose to leave.”

“But she’s not choosing to act like this,” Clint says. “I can tell. I can almost bring her out of it when I mention my family. And since she’s in love with you-“

“Was,” you correct him. “She was. Not anymore.”

“Right,” Clint says noncommittally. “We hope once she sees you, she’ll snap out of it.”

“So all of this is based on a hope?” You ask.

“Well, yeah,” Steve says.

“Great,” you say sarcastically. You stand up and push your way to the back of the jet to sit alone.

Truthfully, you’ve imagined reuniting with Natasha a million times. In your fantasy, she would show up at your door in the pouring rain with flowers and a romcom style apology for how she hurt you.

But this reuniting will be no romcom. You can tell from the way Steve can’t really meet your eyes that it’s bad. He cares for Natasha as deeply as you and Clint do. You can sense his fear. And Clint’s.

“We’re here,” Clint announces, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Where’s here?” You ask. You look out the front and notice the landscape is not the Avengers compound where you thought you were heading.

“There’s no time to prepare,” Steve says. “You can do this, y/n. Approach the house carefully and expect resistance. We’ll back you up but if Nat sees us we’re sure she’ll be quicker to turn against you.”

“Here’s coms,” Clint says, handing you a piece for your ear.

“Okay. Here goes nothing,” you say, taking a deep breath.

You step out of the quinjet and walk over one hundred paces to where Natasha is supposedly staying. As you expected, she doesn’t answer the front door when you knock.

Instead, you’re struck in the back of the knee. She effectively brings you down to the ground. Her legs straddle your waist. Your breath is taken away in more ways than one.

She looks beautiful yet sad. You try to shake off the fact that you’re seeing her for the first time in so long and focus on the way she’s crushing your ribs.

“Natasha,” you say.

“You don’t know me,” Nat says.

“I used to,” you answer. That throws her off briefly and you manage to squirm free. Natasha catches up fast and pins you against the door this time.

“What do you want?” Natasha asks. She feels an odd attraction to you. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here to help you,” you say.

Natasha punches the wall behind you and wraps her hand around your neck.

“Okay, you don’t like that answer,” you whimper out.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now,” Natasha commands.

You bring your arm up to pull hers away from your throat but she doesn’t stop. You plead with her with your eyes and once again she hesitates long enough for you to slip away.

She pulls her gun on you, but waits to shoot. You hold your hands up in surrender. You try again to make her remember you.

“Natasha, please,” you beg for her to relent. “You know me and I know you. It’s me, y/n.”

She doesn’t appear to have any recollection, so you go deeper.

“You love peanut butter sandwiches,” you say. “And you secretly love M&Ms but only the red ones even though they all taste the same.”

“I-“

“And you get up every morning and go for a run not because you love running but because you like to see the world before it becomes too loud and unsteady,” you continue. “And you love me. Or at least, you used to.”

“I don’t- I’m not who you think I am,” Natasha says.

“Yes you are,” you argue back.

“I’m not,” she says. Her voice breaks. You feel like you’re making progress.

“Natasha, baby, please,” you say.

She’s fighting her internal turmoil. Her objective is to take down anyone in her way.

“Y/n, get out of there,” you hear Steve in your ear.

You don’t dare reply. She’ll shoot if she thinks she’s surrounded.

“You’re an Avenger,” you say. “You’re a friend. You’re a sister. You are an aunt to Clint’s kids. You’re the love of my life.”

Natasha’s hand shakes. She thinks she knows you, but she has a mission.

You look into her eyes as she aims at your chest. Steve and Clint run towards you knowing what’s about to happen but it’s too late.

Natasha fires the weapon and you feel a lot of pain before you feel absolutely nothing. Steve hits Nat with a tranquilizer before she can shoot him and Clint as well.

The next thing you remember is waking up in the medbay at the compound.

“Hey,” Steve greets you. “You’re okay.”

“Where’s Nat?” You ask, sitting up.

“She’s detained,” he says. “And asking for you.”

“What?”

“Welcome to the world again,” Tony interrupts as he enters the room. “Dr. Cho fixed your wound up perfectly as always.”

“Oh,” you say, remembering why you’re here. The ache in your shoulder becomes more noticeable when you try to move it. “I need to see her.”

“No can do, buckaroo,” Tony says. “We’ve got Hill in there talking to her.”

“You mean interrogating her,” you correct him.

“Maybe,” Tony replies. “But we need to know whose side she’s on now.”

“Steve, please you have to let me see her,” you say. “She recognized me. She just- she needed to continue her mission.”

“I don’t know,” Steve replies. “It’s too dangerous.”

“She already shot me,” you say dryly. “What else could happen?”

Steve relents. After a couple of hours of resting, you get dressed the best you can, putting your arm in a sling.

You approach the detainment area carefully. Natasha is sitting at a table with her hands cuffed to it when you enter.

“Take those off,” you instruct the guard.

“I’m not supposed-“

“Just do it,” you say.

“Ma’am-“

“Take them off,” Steve says over the intercom.

The guard complies and unlocks the cuffs. You frown at the way they’ve rubbed her wrists raw.

“Hey,” you say to Natasha.

“How’s your shoulder?” She asks.

“Fine. Why didn’t you shoot to kill me? I know you could’ve,” you say.

“So we’re jumping right in,” Nat remarks. “You said you know me and you told me facts that no one knows. I needed to talk to you more. I needed you alive.”

“Do you know me?” You ask.

“I don’t,” she says. You can’t help but frown. “But you do feel vaguely familiar.”

“You’ve had your memories of us taken from you,” you say. “Probably by the Red Room.”

“What did you just say?” Natasha asks. She stands up and pushes you against the wall.

“Nat,” you say. Your shoulder is throbbing.

“We’re coming in to help,” Steve says urgently.

“No wait! I can do this,” you shout. “Natasha please, you wouldn’t hurt me. Not again.”

“Stop acting like you know who I am!” She shouts. “How did you get that name? The Red Room? How did you know?”

“Because Natasha we dated for over a year,” you say. “You told me everything.”

“No,” she says. “I would- I would remember if I had loved you.”

“Natasha, I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“Stop,” she cries out. “Stop. You don’t- stop it.”

“I do. I love you. Please, I love you. Find yourself in me again, Nat,” you beg her.

Natasha’s eyes fill with tears. It’s beginning to click. You think of the last effort you can make to help her remember it all.

You lean toward her and pull her in for a hug. Your good arm goes around her waist and pulls her in. Natasha doesn’t hug you back but she doesn’t pull away either.

“Please, Natasha. I need you to come back to me,” you whimper into her neck.

It feels so familiar to her. Holding you in her arms as you bury your face into her neck, but she still can’t figure out who you are to her.

“I’m sorry,” she says, pulling away from your embrace. “I just don’t remember you.”

You nod in understanding. She doesn’t know why but she doesn’t flinch when you place your hands on the sides of her face. Her cheeks feel hot under your touch.

“Can I try?” You ask her. She gets what you mean.

“Okay,” she says.

You lean in and kiss her lips softly. It’s barely there, but it’s enough to make Natasha’s heart flutter. And yours too. Under different circumstances, it would be an amazing reunion kiss.

“Y/n?” She asks when you pull away. There’s a light of recognition in her eyes.

“Yeah,” you say.

“Detka,” she begins. You could cry at the pet name. “I don’t- are you okay? Shit, this is my fault.”

She tries to inspect your wound, but you just hug her again.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m so so sorry that I hurt you.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “You didn’t know what you were doing.”

“I did when I broke your heart,” she says regretfully.

“Natasha-“

“Let me just,” she interrupts. “Let me apologize. I’m so sorry, y/n. I love you. I haven’t stopped. It’s just I got so protective of you that I couldn’t let you go on missions. I was holding you back.”

“You weren’t holding me back, Nat. I understand that you’re protective over me, but I can handle myself.”

“I know that,” she says. “I’m just so sorry.”

“Let’s go home, Natasha. We can talk about this over a cup of hot chocolate,” you suggest.

“Yeah. Let’s go home,” Nat says.

You both ignore the other Avenger’s requests that you stay at the compound and they evaluate Nat’s situation and your injury.

The hope of a true love’s kiss curing Natasha seems to be really true. Maybe fairytales are real. Maybe they’re not. But you both love each other and you were always meant to end up together again.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff comfort #natasha romanoff angst #steve rogers #clint barton #tony stark

[tolkienrsb]

TRSB 2023 Gallery Opening

& 2024 Schedule Premiere

It’s almost time for TRSB 2024! Sign ups for artists for TRSB 2024 open in a month. The full schedule for 2024 can be found here.

To start getting excited for this year’s event, please enjoy the opening of the TRSB 2023 Gallery (and the completion of the TRSB 2022 Gallery!) Many thanks to @usuallysublimepenguin for doing the lion’s share of the work to get both galleries ready and online and to @fishing4stars for supporting that effort!

Before the suggestions form opens on March 24th, we want to invite veteran participants to share their wisdom about the event. If you were speaking to someone curious about participating in TRSB for the first time, what would your advice be on picking what to draw? Or, as an author, what do you look for in a prompt? 

The mods have given their own answers under the cut. We can’t wait to hear your thoughts!

~TRSB Mods 2024

Mods answer the question:

Fishing4Stars (roles: artist, writer): As a writer I look for prompts that either give me a clear inspiration that I think matches the artist’s idea - or that leave me enough flexibility to write something I find inspiring. Either works! I do get inspired by my favorite characters, but the underlying idea can be a great source as well. I had a blast writing a story focused on Thorin last year even though he’s not a character I normally write for because the underlying prompt, about being an outcast and having a complex identity, inspired me. I loved working closely with the artist on this - I will probably make my ‘involvement level’ preference this year more specific, because I’d love to do that again.

I think my biggest takeaways as an artist after participating last year were: 

(1) Be a little selfish when picking prompts: As an artist, I’m responsible for supporting my writers and their works - whether cheerleading, brainstorming, beta reading, or hands off, my writer deserves for me to be excited to read their work in September and give them comments. So it’s to both our benefit for me to pick something I like and want to read. Last year I picked a prompt off the suggestions list that I normally wouldn’t have. It actually turned out really well and I had tons of fun reading it, but it did make me think about maybe giving slightly more personalized prompts this year. 

(2) Leaving room for collaboration can be fun: Both of the works I submitted last year were in mostly finished form. The bit of collaboration I got to do to adjust the work to the writer’s story was really fun, though. So this year I’m thinking about leaving some room for the writer to weigh in on the art.

Usuallysublimepenguin (role: artist): I’ve participated as an artist for a few years now and can warmly recommend joining, as it’s been such a joy every time.

Regarding the prompt list, I can certainly echo Fishing4Stars: draw something that you like! The list is great for sparking ideas, but be careful of picking the very specific ones; they might be something the prompter would want to read but not necessarily write. So, if it’s not something you want to draw, do not pick it. Use the list for inspiration, or if the list is too dauntingly large, go for something completely different from your own head.

My prompts have gone from quite detailed "Lothiriel, a new bride getting to know Éomer" to very open "here's one or two characters in a pose I wanted to draw; please fill in the blanks" or "Here's a landscape; please fill in the details." Keep in mind that the open prompts require quite high levels of collaboration, and that the stories might take you to new places you never even thought existed - but for me that works very well. Every single story that came from these prompts are dear to me. 

Ettelenë (roles: writer, sometimes artist). Since I am mainly a writer who sometimes draws, I tend to pick prompts that suit the characters or stories I want to tell. The first time I participated as a writer, it was with a prompt/character I never thought I would write about (mermaid Voronwë!), and, surprisingly, it was not the most challenging time. So, to start, writing or drawing something completely out of our comfort zones can actually draw people in. Nowadays, though, as I don't have much time to write a fully complex story with worldbuilding etc, I’ll go for the prompts that I am 100% sure I can bang 5k in the blink of an eye. As for drawings, I usually stick with what I do best, which is watercolor. And curiously enough, the two times I did art for TRSB, it was about the Valar, characters I mostly never write about, but who always spark my artistic creativity.

Raiyana (roles: writer): I have a tendency to fall in love with a piece or an idea and fall HARD… so far, happily, the artists have been pleased to have me write for them ;) And then I find that weird secondary prompt in the gallery, generally during second claims, that tickles Something. I usually filter out characters/ideas I definitely can’t do and then something or someone (often a co mod, actually) will challenge me to come up with a way to do a prompt and spark another fire of creativity ;). 

I never thought I’d be able to write a streamer script version of FoG, but here we are…

Lathalea (roles: writer, artist): When I joined TRSB for the first time, as a writer, I definitely felt overwhelmed with the size of the event and the amount of prompts, and then art pieces. It wasn’t easy to pick just one, so many of them screamed “pick me!”. I managed to narrow them down and mull over them for some time. I asked myself what ideas and parts of the Tolkien legendarium spoke to me the most, what “blank areas” of Middle Earth I would like to fill with my works, and how I wanted to do this. What I learned back then is that it worked for me best to focus on a very particular and narrow theme so that I could delve into proper worldbuilding – which is something I live for when it comes to Dwarves and their culture.

Finally, I chose the one that sparked the most creativity in me that year. I feel that for writers who decide to work on a specific art piece, prompts can be a great help, making you enrich your story or add a detail or two that you wouldn’t have thought of otherwise. As a bonus, you get at least one very happy reader: the author of that specific prompt! 

One year later, I decided to submit art for TRSB because I liked the prompts so much – I just had to create a piece of visual art inspired by them. It resulted in a great cooperation that explored a completely new subject that I always wanted to focus on but never had a chance to do properly before.

Feel free to surprise yourself and pick prompts or ideas you haven’t worked on before, you never know what way your creativity will go!

Legolasbadass (roles: writer, artist): There are always too many great artworks, so I usually make a list of pieces I’d be most interested in writing for to help narrow down my choices. I look for ideas and characters I am most inspired by and comfortable writing about — though it can also be fun to step out of your comfort zone and try something new! Another really important thing for me is the collaboration level. I really enjoy brainstorming with the artist, sharing my progress with them, and getting regular feedback, so I tend to avoid choosing artists who prefer a less collaborative experience. 

When looking for inspiration for art, I usually look at the answers to the suggestions form as well as my personal list of prompts and pick an idea that I’d be most excited to share with someone. The collaborative aspect of the event is what excites and inspires me the most, so I tend not to submit an idea I feel too possessive of. I like working closely with an author and letting their vision inspire my art as much as my art will inspire their story.

#tolkien fandom event #trsb24 #tolkien reverse summer bang #tolkien fanart

[historia-jaeger]

Avoid the obvious. - The Jeankasa discussion

I'm basing my contribution on this article here because it picks up on the theories I've already heard and has a few new ones up its sleeve. ~*~ The first big discussion sparked this picture:

Mikasa is seen visiting Eren's grave, with a man and child with her. Judging by his clothes and hairstyle, one could assume that this man is Jean. The Child is adoptet-Theory: The first thing that comes to mind when I see Mikasa with a man and children is: She is married and has children. But there are also people who actually believe that Mikasa got the baby from Historia's orphanage... I can't really refute it. So I'll leave it like that.

This scene has now been animated in a fairly small format. But you can see the color of the hair and the color of the suit. Here, too, it is easy to conclude that it is Jean.

The Man is to tall to be Jean-Theory: Based on the second scene, in which the man runs across the hills with Mikasa, he is estimated to be a little taller than Jean. You can see from the grave scene in the manga, that the man is exactly Jean's size. Especially because the man appears taller in one scene, because the landscape is sloping and he is therefore walking on a higher level like Mikasa and therefore appears a bit taller.

Source There are two different versions of the scene where Mikasa lies in the grave. In the manga, she lies in a bed as lilies. she has her hands folded in front of her chest. In the anime, Mikasa wears a ring on her ring finger and her grave is made of roses. These same roses are also on her chest. The flower-theory: The flower theory includes two versions. The one with the white lily and the one with the four roses. According to the "White Lily Theory", these symbolize Mikasas purity. Says that she hasn't slept with any other man and will remain loyal to Eren until death. Qoute: They are chosen for both weddings and funerals and symbolize the renewal of the soul. They can represent purity, commitment and rebirth, so they are often used to express compassion. - Source To make it short. Lilies are grave flowers. That´s why they´re put in Mikasa's grave and not to highlight her chastity.

Four roses means "Nothing will come between us", so Mikasa will love no one exept Eren. Okay. Is this is the right meaning, as I found out myself. Source But I see one or two Roses und two other Blooms on this Grave...

Source

Besides, you never know what colors the roses were. This is also important to know. Therefore I would rule out this theory. The ring of purity-theory: Mikasa wears a ring on her ring finger that looks like a wedding ring. But opponents of Jeankasa claim it would is a chastity ring. Unfortunately, that can't work, because Attack on Titan obviously takes place in Germany. The last date I could record was the year 850. Source

The “True Love Waits” movement, which also included the chastity ring, only became active in Germany in the 21st century. So in our current era. Source

The pioneer of the chastity ring was the chastity belt: There is no clear evidence that the chastity belt was already known in the Middle Ages. It is believed to be a myth that was invented and spread in the Baroque period to paint the picture of the “Dark Ages”. Other stories say that the chastity belt was invented by the Doges of Venice in order to effectively collect tax debts from prostitutes. Source

So it's pretty unlikely that Mikasa wears a chastity ring. In that case it would probably be a wedding ring. The Hairstyle-Theory: It is often said that you can't even know that it is Jean, because many people have that hairstyle. For example, Armin, who is often portrayed as Mikasa's grief companion. To underline this, antis often use such images:

Source In one picture Armin's hair is flying back and in the other picture Armin has actually pinned his hair back. But let's be honest, folks. When you have two people to choose from. Jean and Armin. Who will you choose then? Someone who has this hairstyle naturally or someone who doesn't usually have this hairstyle except in a picture?

Especially because Armin must have had a really big growth spurt to be Jean's size. But fine. Let's play a round of "Choose the Color":

All in all, it also depends a little on the exposure. But which hair color is closer to that of the man at the grave? Armin's or Jean's? The man's hair color is ash blonde. A color that not everyone in Attack on Titan has either. So... It can't be Armin but obiously Jean. ~*~ Other arguments: Jean whould never betray Eren with marrieng Mikasa: Did Jean make such a vow? - No. And I don't need to cite any evidence that Jean was definitely in love with Mikasa. Mikasa only rejected him, because she was in love with Eren and he accepted that too. But Eren is dead. Why shouldn't he be allowed to marry Mikasa? In the AOT-Guidebook it´s stated that Mikasa's martial status is single: When is the book from and how old was Mikasa? Prove please. Mikasa loves Eren because of what is written on Eren's grave, her scarf, because she let herself be buried next to Eren, and so further: I don't understand this concept of "just one or the other". Just because Mikasa loves Jean and has a family with him doesn't mean she has to give up her feelings for Eren. She is still allowed to mourn him, think about him and talk about him with others? I don't understand how things like this are always taken as evidence of "Mikasa only loves Ereh." And Mikasa can be happy without Jean, but she can also be happy with Jean. So why does the obvious always have to be downplayed? WHY Mikasa has to be with no one exept EREN? Her hidden Bandages: Why should the bandages be evidence that Mikasa didn't pass the symbol on them to her children? Maybe she doesn't want to present the symbol to everyone. Maybe she doesn't want to pass it on to her children? Maybe she had already passed it on to her "adopted" children and still covered her arms? How do you know that those in the picture are even bandages?

~*~ It makes sense that Mikasa is married to Jean and has children. Family has always been very important to Mikasa. Especially because she lost her family twice. It was only thanks to Eren that she threw herself into the fight against the Titans. As you could tell from her dream with Eren, she preferred a simple life to fighting. She cut her hair, because Eren wanted it that way. It was supposed to protect her from the Titans. Jean, on the other hand, found this so beautiful about her. Anyone who wasn't struck with blindness could clearly see that Jean was in love with Mikasa and knew that his feelings were not reciprocated. But this certainly changed after Eren's death. Jean also dreamed of having a family with Mikasa and the child in Mikasa's arms looks a lot like a baby.

It is quite logical to conclude from this dream that there is a real wedding. Why would Isayama bother to draw a family when it really isn't a family? Then he could have easily drawn Mikasa alone at Eren's grave. But he didn't. Mikasa is married and the first candidate for a husband would be Jean. Not Armin, not Farmer-Kun or some random guy. JEAN. ~*~ Thanks for reading.

#JeanKasa #aot last episode #aot last chapter #jean kirschstein #mikasa ackerman #jean x mikasa #attack on titan 139

[misscammiedawn]

it’s literally your own fault that you have trauma from personality play, idiot. why the fuck would you EVER engage in intense kink with people you didn’t trust/people who didn’t believe in hypnosis/etc. and not practice the most obvious safety precautions during lmao. moronic behavior honestly.

Wasn't 100% sure if I should reply or delete-- My rule is to delete anon-hate without a second thought and the moment the word 'idiot' was brought out it fell into that category. So firstly, no sympathy/support either for the message or the circumstances please. I'm not here for that and it undermines the point if people focus on that.

Buuut here's the thing. I know. This isn't an accusation or an insult or even mean. Everything you say is in the body of the Ethical Personality Play post. Like-- uuuh--- I dunno what to say? Congrats, you read the post?

Fact is these events happened 15+ years ago and the community lacked the support, education and structure that it has now. I'm trying to help build something which I needed back then. Will I save everyone? No. Can I help like one person? I hope so.

But like, I was a self-destructive moronic idiot 15+ years ago and I am sorta open about it?

Like here are direct quotes (key quotes bolded):

I have experience with this fallacy myself. In utilizing hypnosis to ignore my triggers I did severe damage to myself and I am now plagued with intrusive memories and nightmares of events that happened during scenes that I was able to effortlessly indulge in during the scene but as they say "The body keeps the score" and I was in fact doing further damage to myself. Something which my partner at the time was not equipped to deal with because I'd failed to disclose or even treat the situation as worth being safe about. Now I am just burdened with further damage by ignoring my brain's defenses on my existing pain.

Likewise I want to note the power imbalance that comes from play like this. A motivated hypnotee can fling themselves into this arena and do harm to the hypnotist. This does fly both ways. A hypnotee not advocating for themselves or exercising their agency will make a hypnotist accessory to the damage. This is a sin I have committed.

...look... I don't want to be an old lady yelling at the kids for doing things when I did them myself at that age. I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't pretend I didn't see the allure on both sides of the watch.

I just... there weren't 20+ year experienced hypnosis veterans who had been in my character play abusing position when I was growing up. No one warned me. I learned all this the hard way and I hurt people. People I loved. Moreover I hurt me. In ways that will never heal. I just want to spare anyone I can the pain of going through this.

So--- like

Yeah. You read the post and understood it. I'm glad you read the post and understood it.

The landscape was different back then but that's no excuse. We were a fucking dumb child who wanted to be anyone but ourselves and acted recklessly because of it. We were a dangerous and toxic hypnotee and we should have known better.

That's the lesson. That's the point. I'm not here to ask forgiveness from the people I hurt or sympathy for the fact we fucked up. We just want to help build framework that didn't exist when we were starting out.

History on the hypnokink community is a topic that probably does need to be taught-- but if you're young enough that you've never known a place without framework, education and support then I'm glad, honestly. It means a lot of good people, dedicated people, have done work building houses my silly little essays can only manage to move pebbles with. I'm glad for that. Really.

The post isn't there for you to think "Poor Cammie :(" it's there for you to think "What an idiot, I'm never going to be like her"

So-- yeah-- I don't post anon-hate as a rule-- so thank you for the fan mail. Knee-jerk reaction aside, it makes me happy that you got the point.

#cammie asks #hypno asks #hypnokink #hypnokink writings

[slytherhys]

June in January (Because I'm in Love)

Prompt: Powers & Possibilities (but make it Witchy!) @elriel-month

A/N: So I've had this AU in my mind for a really long time and I thought it'd be perfect for this prompt. It is kinda different from how I usually write so please bear with me. I hope I managed to make it at the very least a cute read! Enjoy 🌼

TW: Swearing, Blood and Violence (mentioned because Az is an idiot!)

You can also read this story on AO3!

The first time Azriel visits the witch’s cottage on the outskirts of Velaris, it’s against his will.

For starters, he has never been a fan of witches – not of their unrestrained power and certainly not of their blood-drinking habits. He is also a firm believer that, despite Mor’s insistence, Madja would’ve been perfectly able to fix him up with whatever medicine she usually gave Cassian whenever he got punched in the face.

But after a sparring session gone wrong, a vicious hit to the face that takes both him and Cassian by surprise, and a pounding headache only made worse by Cassian’s incessant bragging about knocking out the Shadowsinger for the first time in centuries, Azriel barely bats an eye when Mor presses a piece of parchment to his hand and nearly forces him to visit her dear friend.

“You can thank me later.” She says with an impish smile. “Preferably with chocolates.”

Azriel doesn’t bother asking any questions – namely, who her friend is. Or rather what . With a nasty black eye, a bruised ego and absolutely no desire to take part in any small talk with a stranger, he simply goes, dazed, and confused as to how the fuck he let himself be punched in the face by Cassian, of all people.

But when he first gets there, he has to wonder if Mor is pranking him. 

The cottage is covered in ivy, idyllic enough that one could think it actually belongs to the landscape where it stands. The garden surrounding him is an array of colours and scents, neatly organised by a logic Azriel does not pretend to understand. It looks innocent enough, all things considered.

But something in him goes still as he takes in the landscape in front of him. His eyes narrow as he watches the flowers sway softly in the cool January breeze. They’re beautiful and fragrant and would raise absolutely no suspicion on any other given day – if not for the fact they were in full bloom despite it being the middle of winter.

And then he sees it – a plain, wooden sign, the lettering a loopy cursive that speaks of lovely, gentle things. If it wasn’t for what they spell out, of course.

Elain’s Herbs & Potions

His entire body goes cold, and it speaks of his self-control that Azriel doesn’t shoot to the skies without a glance back. Because he knows –vividly remembers – all the tales of witches he grew up hearing about. Of their all-seeing eyes and their crooked smiles that promised nothing but pain and horror. The tales of their rituals and tricks not even the most cunning soldier could escape. Even Rhys, for all his powers and smarts, has never showed much interest in coming across a witch.

He's wondering why, exactly, Mor ever thought it’d be a good idea to send him here when he sees her.

The first thing he notices, oddly enough, is how small she is. After living next to Amren for most of his life, Azriel is not foolish enough to ever think that a sign of weakness, but it intrigues him all the same. Then, he’s utterly aware of how she doesn’t look anything like what he thought she’d look like. There’s no yellowed teeth, no wispy, greying hair, no soulless eyes.

Instead, all he sees is long, golden-brown hair and chocolate eyes. A yellow dress that compliments her tanned skin and red cheeks and speaks of warmer, sunnier days. She’s carrying a wicker basket overflowing with flowers, but the scent that trails after her is all her – sweet and sour, and Az feels his legs nearly giving out from under him, it’s probably completely unrelatable.

Elain , he assumes, and never a name has ever sounded so sweet.

When she looks up and spots him, she smiles, as if she was waiting for him and is pleased to see he's finally here. His heart tumbles inside his chest and he tells himself it’s because he’s in the presence of a witch – not because he’s suddenly wanting things he’s never wanted before.

She eyes him curiously and he has

to stop himself from asking her what’s on her mind, even if it suddenly feels

like the most important thing he’s ever needed to know.

“Can I help you?” She asks sweetly. Her voice echoes through him, and something inside him settles. He, however, can’t bring himself to speak, swallowing dryly as he stares and stares and stares . The woman - Elain ,

he thinks with delight - tilts her head, furrowing her brow as her chocolate

eyes trace his face. “That doesn’t look good.” She mutters and Azriel has to

remind himself of the reason he’s here in the first place.

“A fight.” He says oh-so-eloquently , and he’s surprised she doesn’t seem alarmed in

the slightest by his response. As if, perhaps, this is a normal occurrence for

her. He doesn’t know why that bothers him, but it does. 

Elain, oblivious to his nonsensical thoughts, simply nods and turns on her feet, disappearing inside her cottage without another word. Azriel remains where he is, unsure of what to do. All of a sudden, he can’t recall why he ever feared witches in the first place, why he ever believed the tales his brothers told him in the middle of the night when they were too young to know any better. 

And fuck if they knew any better. 

It takes the pretty witch less than five minutes to return, this time carrying a small basket in her hands, each one of her steps a small symphony of bottles clicking against each other until she’s standing in front of him. He looks down at the basket with intrigue and pretends that her closeness isn’t making his skin tingle. He listens carefully as she explains – a bit shyly, Azriel notices with satisfaction – how he must apply the green ointment to his bruises, at what time he must drink the periwinkle potion and how many times a day the white paste must be applied to reduce the swelling of his cheek.

When he nods in thanks and turns to leave, it’s entirely too soon and a pang echoes through his body as he desperately tries to come up with ways of prolonging his stay but comes up empty instead. His skin feels too tight, his cheeks too hot, his hands too clammy. He vaguely wonders if he’s running a fever - if maybe he can ask her for a cure for that as well. 

She walks by his side until they’re standing on the limits of her property, like maybe she doesn't want him to leave just yet either. He feels oddly mislaid; uncertain of what to do and who to be. All his convictions turn into ash and suddenly there’s only one thing he knows for sure: he’s going to have to get punched again, because there’s not a chance in this world he isn’t seeing Elain again.

“Who won?” Azriel turns to her as she asks, confusion clear on his face. Elain, not one to be put off by his silence, clarifies, “The fight.”

Azriel chuckles softly. “Not me.”

She frowns like she's not entirely happy with his response. “Well, make sure you win next time. Okay?” 

But the second time Azriel visits the witch’s cottage, just on the outskirts of Velaris, Elain greets him with a brilliant smile, not disappointed in the slightest to see him sporting a new bruise and a busted lip.

It shouldn’t surprise him how beautiful she looks, but he still is taken aback when he first sees her. Her hair is tumbling down her back in a messy braid, a too-big straw hat on her head and a small streak of dirt on her cheek that she probably isn’t aware of. Her cheeks are flushed from the sun, her blue dress reminds him of ripe blueberries, and the way it sways with her every step reminds him of flying in the summer breeze.

This time around, there’s no doubt in his mind he’s right where he should be. A familiar feeling of contentment rushes through his body, as if after weeks of waiting to see her, he can finally let himself relax and enjoy this small moment of reprieve (and really, who can blame him for wanting to get punched again?).

When Elain asks him what happened this time around, Azriel doesn’t dare tell her he made sure to pick Rhys during this week’s sparring session; that he made sure the most powerful High Lord in history punched him just in the right place so that he could bust his lip open. He doesn’t tell her about the confused look on his friend’s face as Azriel smiled maniacally when he felt the blood on his lips, nor does he tell her he tried to go for a broken nose instead so that maybe she would touch him too.

He simply smiles sheepishly at the pretty witch and utters something about distractions, making her blush under his stare as she turns around and scolds him for being so careless, all the while making a package of too many potions he doesn’t entirely need. (He still hasn’t used up all the old ones, but he doesn't tell her that either).

When Elain finally turns to him, her eyes drop to his lips and Azriel feels fire licking up at his spine. She watches him with curiosity and something else lingering in those cinnamon eyes. Amusement, perhaps?

For a brief, panicky moment, he wonders if she can see right through him. As it is, Azriel doesn’t exactly know where her power lies, and for all he knows every lie, every excuse is pointless in the presence of this witch.

Elain, however, doesn’t seem too concerned by his lies. “What is your favourite fruit?” She asks instead, eyes flickering to his as if nervous to see his reaction. 

Azriel tucks away his puzzlement and says, “Blueberries,” pretending the whole time it’s not only because of the colour of her dress. She nods once, as if the answer satisfies her, and hands him the basket.

“Be careful, okay?” She tells him in that honeyed voice and Azriel can think of nothing else to say, so he nods and leaves without a glance back.

He pretends he doesn’t miss her the entire flight back home.

The third time Azriel visits Elain’s cottage, he is greeted by a brilliant smile that sends his heart racing inside his chest. Elain, still bent over a shrub, tells him about the new batch of healing potions she’s been perfecting so he can try them, and he tries not to show just how pleased he is that she has been thinking about him, waiting for him to return. She doesn’t ask him about his bandaged shoulder and Azriel doesn’t tell her about the lecture he got from Rhys once the High Lord of the Night Court realised what was going on.

“These ones taste like blueberries.” She says, handing him three new potions he’s never seen before. He frowns slightly. “They’re your favourite.” She explains, and the expectant smile on her face makes it impossible for him to come clean. He isn’t even sure he likes blueberries, but he thanks her anyway and smiles the whole way home.

The fourth time Azriel visits Elain’s cottage, he has just returned from a mission abroad. When she hears the rustle of his wings, she turns to him with that brilliant smile of hers. To her credit, she doesn’t stop smiling when he sees the heavy expression on his face. She simply stands up, holds his hand, and leads him to a wooden bench under a willow tree behind her house.

They sit there for hours, without a word ever being spoken. He doesn’t know how Elain knows he doesn’t wish to speak, but he’s thankful all the same.

When he returns home, he doesn’t take any potions with him, but nevertheless something inside him feels mended; lighter than it has ever felt before. For a quiet, lovely moment he wonders if maybe he’s worthy of having his hands held despite the scars marring his skin and the idea of such a life follows him all the way home.

The fifth time Azriel returns to Elain’s cottage, nothing seems to be amiss - both Cassian and Rhysand refuse to fight him (since Rhysand promptly forbade them), and Azriel can’t seem to find any more excuses to see her again. Until he realises he doesn’t need them anymore.

As he flies to her house, a million scenarios rush through his mind as he wonders how she’ll react. If she’ll welcome him with her beaming smile, watching him as if she’d been waiting for him all along or if instead, she’ll find it so weird to find him uninjured she’ll send him on his way the second she understands why, exactly, he’s there. Azriel isn’t foolish enough to believe he’d be so lucky, but he wants to brave enough to find out.

He finds sitting in the middle of the daisies, looking for all the world like she has been painted into the landscape to make it all the more appealing. When she sees him, a smile lights up her face, eyes taking him in as he walks her way and Azriel isn’t entirely sure why, but every single doubt tainting his mind melts away into a puddle at the expression on her face.

Elain doesn’t say a word. She simply waits, rising to her feet and watching him with an expectant look in her eyes.   

“I don’t need anything today.” He says by way of greeting, and she gives him a tentative smile. 

“But you’re here.” She says gingerly, not a trace of confusion on her face.

Which makes him confused in return. “I am.” He says, and Elain chuckles, the sound low and so sweet, so perfect his heart nearly leaps from his chest to try and catch the sound. He can’t stop watching her as certainty settles deep into his bones.

Elain blows a breath like she’s finally had enough of his silence. Her cheeks pinken under his stare but she isn’t deterred. “Are you finally going to ask me out, Azriel?” She asks a bit exasperatedly. “Or is the Shadowsinger going to keep getting his ass handed to him until he finds the courage?”

He’s speechless for one second. Two. Three. He vaguely thinks of Mor and how she described Elain as her dear friend . And then he’s wondering if he’s truly that transparent and if she’s known what he had been doing all along – gathering the courage to kiss her, have her in any way he can get.

And then he’s not wondering anymore - he’s pulling her into his arms instead, kissing her until they both can’t breathe, until the sun falls behind the trees, until the cool breeze of January makes Elain shiver in his arms, reminding them of where they are. That, despite the blooming garden and the warmth of their kiss, it’s still January and there’s an entire world out there waiting for them to start the rest of their lives.

But none of it seems to matter as Elain pulls away from him, never letting go of his hand as she asks, “Do you want to come inside?”

And later that night, when the colours of dawn chase away the darkness of the night, with Elain sleeping soundly against his chest, Azriel smiles, shaking his head in disbelief.

Because he now owes Mor a very big fucking box of chocolates.

#elriel month 2024 #elrielmonth2024 #elriel #elain archeron #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #pro elain archeron #pro azriel #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #my writing #elriel fic #elriel fanfiction #acotar #pro elriel #rhysand #cassian #morrigan #idiots in love #witchy!elain #idiot!azriel

[nostalgebraist]

@oakfern replied to your post “it's going to be fun to watch the realization...”:

i feel like this is going to play out very similarly to voice assistants. there was a huge boom in ASR research, the products got a lot of hype, and they actually sold decently (at least alexa did). but 10 years on, they've been a massive failure, costing way more than they ever made back. even if ppl do think chatbot search engines are exciting and cool, it's not going to bring in more users or sell more products, and in the end it will just be a financial loss

​(Responding to this a week late)

I don't know much about the history of voice assistants. Are there any articles you recommend on the topic? Sounds interesting.

ETA: Iater, I found and read this article from Nov 2022, which reports that Alexa and co. still can't turn a profit after many years of trying.

But anyway, yeah... this is why I don't have a strong sense of how widespread/popular these "generative AI" products will be a year or two from now. Or even five years from now.

(Ten years from now? Maybe we can trust the verdict will be in at that point... but the tech landscape of 2033 is going to be so different from ours that the question "did 'generative AI' take off or not?" will no doubt sound quaint and irrelevant.)

Remember when self-driving cars were supposed to be right around the corner? Lots of people took this imminent self-driving future seriously.

And I looked at it, and thought "I don't get it, this problem seems way harder than people are giving it credit for. And these companies show no signs of having discovered some clever proprietary way forward." If people asked me about it, that's what I would say.

But even if I was sure that self-driving cars wouldn't arrive on schedule, that didn't give me much insight into the fate of "self-driving cars," the tech sector meme. It wasn't like there was some specific deadline, and when we crossed it everyone was going to look up and say "oh, I guess that didn't work, time to stop investing."

The influx of capital -- and everything downstream from it, the trusting news stories, the prominence of the "self-driving car future" in the public mind, the seriousness which it was talked about -- these things went on, heedless of anything except their own mysterious internal logic.

They went on until . . . what? The pandemic, probably? I actually still don't know.

Something definitely happened:

In 2018 analysts put the market value of Waymo LLC, then a subsidiary of Alphabet Inc., at $175 billion. Its most recent funding round gave the company an estimated valuation of $30 billion, roughly the same as Cruise. Aurora Innovation Inc., a startup co-founded by Chris Urmson, Google’s former autonomous-vehicle chief, has lost more than 85% since last year [i.e. 2021] and is now worth less than $3 billion. This September a leaked memo from Urmson summed up Aurora’s cash-flow struggles and suggested it might have to sell out to a larger company. Many of the industry’s most promising efforts have met the same fate in recent years, including Drive.ai, Voyage, Zoox, and Uber’s self-driving division. “Long term, I think we will have autonomous vehicles that you and I can buy,” says Mike Ramsey, an analyst at market researcher Gartner Inc. “But we’re going to be old.”

Whatever killed the "self-driving car" meme, though, it wasn't some newly definitive article of proof that the underlying ideas were flawed. The ideas never made sense in the first place. The phenomenon was not really about the ideas making sense.

Some investors -- with enough capital, between them, to exert noticable distortionary effects on entire business sectors -- decided that "self-driving cars" were, like, A Thing now. And so they were, for a number of years. Huge numbers of people worked very hard trying to make "self-driving cars" into a viable product. They were paid very well to do. Talent was diverted away from other projects, en masse, into this effort. This went on as long as the investors felt like sustaining it, and they were in no danger of running out of money.

Often the "tech sector" feels less like a product of free-market incentives than it does like a massive, weird, and opaque public works product, orchestrated by eccentrics like Masayoshi Son, and ultimately organized according to the aesthetic proclivities and changing moods of its architects, not for the purpose of "doing business" in the conventional sense.

Gig economy delivery apps (Uber Eats, Doordash, etc.) have been ubiquitous for years, and have reported huge losses in every one of those years.

This entertaining post from 2020 about "pizza arbitrage" asks:

Which brings us to the question - what is the point of all this? These platforms are all losing money. Just think of all the meetings and lines of code and phone calls to make all of these nefarious things happen which just continue to bleed money. Why go through all this trouble?

Grubhub just lost $33 million on $360 million of revenue in Q1.

Doordash reportedly lost an insane $450 million off $900 million in revenue in 2019 (which does make me wonder if my dream of a decentralized network of pizza arbitrageurs does exist).

Uber Eats is Uber's "most profitable division” 😂😂. Uber Eats lost $461 million in Q4 2019 off of revenue of $734 million. Sometimes I need to write this out to remind myself. Uber Eats spent $1.2 billion to make $734 million. In one quarter.

And now, in February 2023?

DoorDash's total orders grew 27% to 467 million in the fourth quarter. That beat Wall Street’s forecast of 459 million, according to analysts polled by FactSet. Fourth quarter revenue jumped 40% to $1.82 billion, also ahead of analysts’ forecast of $1.77 billion.

But profits remain elusive for the 10-year-old company. DoorDash said its net loss widened to $640 million, or $1.65 per share, in the fourth quarter as it expanded into new categories and integrated Wolt into its operations.

Do their investors really believe these companies are going somewhere, and just taking their time to get there? Or is this more like a subsidy? The lost money (a predictable loss in the long term) merely the price paid for a desired good -- for an intoxicating exercise of godlike power, for the chance to reshape reality to one's whims on a large scale -- collapsing the usual boundary between self and outside, dream and reality? "The gig economy is A Thing, now," you say, and wave your hand -- and so it is.

Some people would pay a lot of money to be a god, I would think.

Anyway, "generative AI" is A Thing now. It wasn't A Thing a year ago, but now it is. How long will it remain one? The best I can say is: as long as the gods are feeling it.

#oakfern #ai tag

[lucid-ivory]

genshin boys + reader who controls two elements. [headcanons]

(some of) the genshin boys realize that the reader's vision seems to be switching from pyro to electro the entire time.

characters: kaeya, xiao, diluc, venti & childe

KAEYA

when he first meets you, he notices your pyro vision.

he thinks it would make a fun combo with his cryo vision.

at first, he kind of ignores it. it's just a common vision, and he trusts your abilities to use it properly.

after you two guys spend more time together, he'll take another quick glance at your vision, this time it's shining with a purple light.

he simply frowns and ignores it. he thinks that he didn't see it properly the first time and got it mistaken for a pyro vision.

honestly, it's not like he pays too much attention to that.

however, he is definitely impressed when he first sees you fighting. there are thunders everywhere but, there are explosions and fire too. he thinks it's just your electro vision that has too much strength.

but he's definitely confused. when you're done fighting, he'll stare at the vision. it was purple, and then it turned to red, and then purple again...

he has heard stories of a certain guy in Inazuma that used two visions at the same time, but this was different:

a single vision could hold two elements.

he wouldn't ask, but he's slightly surprised. he definitely appreciates the powerful combo of lightning and fire.

XIAO

sees it very quickly

does not ask, does not care

he knows the traveler pretty well and he knows they don’t need a vision to control elements so they aren’t surprised by other phenomena as a vision holding two elements

xiao will be grateful because he thinks that you’ll defend yourself better if you can control both pyro & electro instead of just one of them.

if he wakes up in a good mood, he might talk about it with Zhongli or Verr Goldet

and if he wakes up in a skeptic mood, he may go a bit delusional thinking you were chosen by the archons or something of sorts

pyro and electro work pretty well and it’s common sense that lightning may cause fire too, so +1 to archons for making it realistic

DILUC

might ask you about it one night in the tavern

he’s mostly curious about how did you manage to get two visions in one

he never really saw anything like that so he’s a bit like 😃woah!

if he has a soft spot for you, he’ll think something similar to Xiao, that you were the archons’ favorite or something like that.

even if he despises the Knights, would have a vague idea that you’d be better than anybody there because of the two elements

would not speak to others about it but if somebody mentions it he’d be the first to go like ‘ah yes, i know them, i saw it’, etc.

he would also enjoy seeing you fighting, lighting and fire definitely makes a chaotic landscape to look at

he thinks of you as somebody really cool

enjoys spacing out and seeing how the vision changes from orange to purple and purple to orange and so on

he thinks it’s mesmerizing even

VENTI

unfazed

what did you expect

he used to play with mountains

thinks it’s a nice trait

may crack a few jokes

“i think the pyro and electro archon have fought over you”

couldn’t care less

it’s probably not the first time he sees something like that

he thinks that you stole a vision sort of like what happened to Kazuha in that one quest where he had his anemo vision + his friend’s electro vision

sees you as intimidating but he’s still giggly around you

ehe te nandayo?

CHILDE

unfazed 2

he has an electro delusion + a hydro vision, he’s used to all that

will think you’re an angel or something and the gods like you

SPARRING

he wants to fight you

he wants those two elements in action AGAINST HIM

and he likes it more because you can control two elements at the same time, not like him

would probably try and trick the archons into giving him another vision or another element to his current vision

like offerings to the statues, etcetera

i think he’ll go for the Tsaritsa so he can use the Cryo element too

doesn’t work, feels like archons abandoned him

he’s jealous that you can control two elements at the same time.

#diluc #diluc ragnvindr #kaeya #kaeya alberich #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #headcanon #headcanons #genshin headcanons #childe #nobile #childe x reader #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #venti #venti x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #kaeya alberich x reader

[tangerinesgirl]

A quick Aaron Taylor-Johnson X Reader one shot based on this photo from the new Esquire photoshoot. My imagination is in overdrive. Also side note, idk how accessing the castle works. I've never been and never heard of it until now. If you do, then um maybe don't think into it too much 😂

Warnings: smut, 18+, temperature play, p in v, semi-public, vaginal fingering, creampie

You and Aaron are on holiday in New York. He decides to rent out a small motor boat to take to Bannerman's Castle on Pollepel Island, a place you've both admired from a distance but he literally decided to push the boat out this time. Driving it somehow comes easy to him. You make a joke saying he could drive it with his eyes closed. He says that it doesn't take much effort to steer and you probably could too.

The boat is bigger than you thought with a small kitchen and a living room area (with a fold out bed). You bring him up a cup of tea and a cardigan as the weather decides to make a turn. You regret not bringing another cardigan or a blanket. You decided to wear a long white flowy dress, you've always thought of it as your "Cathy from Wuthering Heights dress", so you could both look windswept and interesting. You cradle your hot chocolate, trying to absorb the heat. You have the perfect distraction from the cold anyways, he looks right at home here...your Heathcliff.

You decide to snap a few photos of the landscape when it starts to slowly drizzle. Shortly after, you mention you are cold and for him to stop for a bit and come downstairs to warm up. His hands must be freezing. But he would rather stay and admire the view. He has always been warm blooded. "I think I know a way to keep you warm", he says. One hand remaining on the steering wheel, his other dips below the waistline of his pants. You snap a quick picture of him before placing the camera down. You take the key out of the motor and place his steering wheel hand under your dress. The cold of his fingers makes you gasp in an oh so good way.

He passionately kisses you and starts to move his fingers inside you, his thumb gliding over your clit occasionally. His other hand starts to unbutton the front of your dress. You don't have a bra on, the dress was too tight with one on. Your nipples immediately harden to the cold and the rain, giving your skin goosebumps. His hand holds your chest, and occasionally pinches your nipples to hear your short, soft moans.

He removes his hands to put them on your back to gently place you down on your back. He licks the rain off your breasts, up your neck, leaving small bites too, on his way to your mouth. He lets out small moans too as he kisses you. Hard. He pulls his trousers down just enough for his member to bounce free. You realise he hasn't been wearing underwear the whole day. You didn't realise you could get anymore aroused until now. He gives himself a few tugs while he looks at you for permission. You spread your legs open, revealing you have also not been wearing underwear today. He gives a little smile before entering you in one swift motion, you both moan, his eyes rolling into the back of his head with pleasure.

Aaron decides to take the cardigan and his vest top off revealing his chiselled, well toned waist. He got into really good shape for a role, you say to him he's always been in good shape, but he wasn't happy enough for it until now. He is a perfectionist after all.

The rain beams down on his back as he leans down into you further, sheltering you from most of the downpour. He thrusts into you aggressively trying to match the rhythm of the rain. You drag your fingernails down his back, encouraging him by lifting your legs higher and crossing your ankles over his back. The boat rocks with every thrust, his hand gripping the side of the boat trying to steady it somehow. You swear at one point you were going to tip over. Aaron places one hand over your clit again, knowing how much you liked his cold fingers against it. You cum loudly, arching your back, the rain drenching your chest and dress. Aaron wasn't far behind and comes deeply into you. He exhales deeply removing himself, you can feel his warm seed leaking out of you. You keep your legs up just for a bit longer to savour the moment.

Aaron swipes a hand over his hair to stop it sticking to his face. He briefly disappears downstairs and pops his head out, revealing he'd brought two towels. You laugh as you place your legs down on the deck. You hop up to join him downstairs, stepping over your abandoned hot chocolate, overflowing with rain.

#aaron taylor johnson x reader #esquire #fanfic #aaron taylor johnson #reader #aaron johnson fic #Aaron johnson #aaron taylor johnson fic #fanfiction #one shot #aaron taylor johnson x you #aaron taylor johnson / you #aaron taylor johnson / reader

[dracoxsworld]

ARRANGED - “Take care of you” - Draco M. X Reader - PART 6

Draco was very busy the next couple of days. He went off looking for a new house for you both to live in. He insisted you be apart of the process, but you wanted to stay home instead. The idea of you living on your own officially slightly stressed you out.

You had always been provided things you needed; not that you doubted Draco couldn’t/wouldn’t provide for you, but things would be a lot more different now. Your mind was still mixed up after all that had happened; you’ve felt completely left behind in life, you felt like you were a background character in your own movie.

You and Draco got rid of all of the things that reminded you of Nicholas. Including a Daily Prophet snippet:

The Daily Prophet

Nicholas Heckons, a past lover of Y/N Malfoy speaks out against her current husband, Draco Malfoy. He claims she’s “brainwashed” and “manipulated”.

He also claims Malfoy is “violent” and “short-tempered” also very controlling of Y/N. Here’s the latest word.

“I feel bad for them both really, Y/N, stupid and naive. Draco will have to get used to that soon, really,” Nicholas Heckons stated to our press.

“I suppose they’re each others perfect match, I’ve tried to convince Y/N that Draco is a load of rubbish, but of course, she cheated on me with him. I wouldn’t expect her to listen to me.” claimed Heckons.

Well there you have it, folks. Are Draco and Y/N a match made in Heaven; or Hell?

“Bloody Git.” Draco mumbled to himself, trashing the magical moving newspaper into a trash bag.

“Don’t sweat it. He’s probably embarrassed.” You shrugged, tossing an old Quidditch jersey of Nicholas’. "It's bullshit. He's a load of bullshit." Draco swore. You walked over to him, crouching to his level, as he was sitting on the floor. You ran your hands through his hair, and smiled at him.

All the anger seemed to slip away from him, he smiled, too.

"You never told me if you found a new house," You stated to Draco. His eyes lit up again, and he took your hand and stood up, pulling you up with him. "I wanted to show you, Y/N. I know you say this stuff causes some stress, but I found one I've fallen in love with, I just want you to be in love with it, too." Draco confessed. You took a deep breath, and looked at him. You nodded. "Well, let's see."

Draco's hands quickly shot down to your waist, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder, "Dray!" You gasped from surprise. You could hear his charming laughter. He walked with you over his shoulder to the bedroom door, where he set you down. He motioned for you to go out to the hallway of the manor, you both walked down the stairs and out to the entryway.

One of the employees of Lucius’ stops you both. His dark smile creeps on his pale boney face. “And where will you two be off to?” He croaks.

“We’re looking at the home I’ve picked.” Draco said sternly.

"How do I know you and this blood traitor aren't planning another escape?" The guard asked.

"Are you using your brain? Father has told you all to back off, we've gained his trust," Draco scoffed. The guard balled his fists in anger. "Now, do we have a problem, or do I need to get my father?"

The guard rolled his eyes, and stepped aside. "I am keeping my eye on you, Malfoy."

"That's Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy to you." Draco spat, as he took your hand and drag out out the front door. You finally could take a deep breath.

"That son of a bitch. We've travelled without guards before, what the hell was he thinking?" Draco huffed. "I'm not sure Dray," You sighed. Draco smiled down at you as you walked towards the Manor's extravagant gate. "I love it when you call me that."

You and Draco had apparated to the new home he had picked. It was gorgeous, made entirely out of brick, just like the Malfoy Manor. There was a tall, dark green fence surrounding the home, a large front yard, perfect to decorate with lush landscape, like large trees and bushes. You assumed there'd be a large backyard as well, you already dreamed of having a perfect garden, like Narcissa's. Draco could have all the flowers he wanted.

"What do you think?" Draco asked, smirking down at you, admiring the view as well. "Draco, it's- it's perfect." You voiced. "I mean, we could really build a life here, what did your father think?"

Draco shrugged, his hands in his pockets, looking at the greying-clouds. It smelled like rain. "He didn't react much, I am not even sure why he accompanies me." He admitted. You looked up at him, with affection in your eyes. Draco had clearly lacked a healthy father figure; and he's coming to terms with it and unfortunately, dealing with the aftermath.

When you're a kid, you tend to not notice things you are missing in your childhood. Thing's that are essential, almost nourishing for your growth emotionally. Draco was thrown to be in the Dark Lord's army at such a young age; even before that, forced under beliefs that might've not been his natural and true mindset. These were things you wished you'd realized before. He has a thick wall surrounding him; as thick and protective as it might seem, it didn't take much for it to melt away like ice. His silver eyes were glassy, he seemed stressed. You were hoping moving into your own home; just you and him may help his uneasiness.

"He may just miss having you around," You alluded; not sounding entirely truthful. Draco scoffed. You bit your bottom lip, but he laughed light heartedly. You laughed too, to avoid awkwardness.

"Unfortunately, a family is still moving out, we can't see the inside." Draco said gloomily. You could tell he cherished this home; and you did as well. It was just a waiting game. "Shall we go back to the Manor?" He proposed. You smiled and interlinked your arm in his and nodded. You both apparated back to the Manor.

-

You both walked into the Manor from door to find Lucius and Narcissa talking. They seemed very grave. Lucius looked at you and Draco, with a destructive look in his eyes. "Father." Draco greeted without emotion. "Draco. I've heard from one of my guards you have some sort of, oh; what should I say, Narcissa? Attitude problem?" Lucius recollected. Draco inhaled. "He is the one who gave us a problem." You spoke up. Draco's head snapped in your direction, his arm guided you to be behind him. You reluctantly obliged.

"Bark and no bite, Ms. Y/N?" Lucius chuckled mockingly. "Y/N is speaking the truth, father." Draco stated. His ears were turning red, and a vein in his neck that always pops when he's angry was visible.

"That guard was being a pain in the ass, accusing us of planning an escape!"

"I don't care what he was fucking saying, you must learn respect, Draco!" Lucius' voiced echoed off of the Manor walls. Draco flinched, Narcissa winced at the noise level of his voice, looking empathetic towards Draco and I.

Lucius stayed quiet for a moment. He inhaled a deep breath. "I clearly need to rethink you both leaving the Manor. You clearly aren't ready." Lucius voiced, turning away from you and Draco, facing the fireplace.

"What the hell? You can't keep us here forever. We are not your prisoners." I blurt out. Lucius swiftly turns to my direction and draws his wand, pointing it towards me. "You! You are the one who was venomous to my son's mind!." You drew your wand out as well, but Lucius performed an Expelliarmus charm, disarming you. You gulped and backed up, Draco immediately jumped in front of you, guarding you.

"That is enough!" Draco bellowed, his hand tightly wrapped around the base of his wand. Sparks flew out of Lucius' wand, you immediately recognized that it was the crucio curse.

"Protego totalum!" Draco cried, and blocked the curse.

"Lucius he is your son!" Narcissa bawled, throwing her body onto his arm. He looked down at his desperate lover, begging him to stop the violence against their own blood.

"I wasn't aiming for him, Narcissa."

Lucius lurched towards you and Draco. Draco's eyes were dark, looking up at his father. Lucius promptly shoved him out of the way, Draco toppled onto the floor.

"Draco!" You screamed, reaching out for him, but Lucius grabbed you by the base of your neck, pulling you towards him.

"Crucio!" Exclaimed Lucius, his wand pointing towards you.

"Y/N!" Draco yelled, but it was too late.

It felt like electricity was shooting through your body; you felt like you were on fire, as if a firework had been set off inside of your body. Traveling through each limb, making it excruciatingly painful. Your body jolted to the floor. You tried to scream and bellow in pain; but you couldn't. Your body folded onto itself.

"You son of a bitch!" Draco yelled again, he ran towards you, Lucius had his wand pointed towards him. "Leave her!" He began to say another spell until Narcissa's voice rang across the room, "Petrificus Totalus!"

You flinched, expecting you to be paralyzed, and unable to defend yourself, on top of being in this amount of intense pain, but you heard a large thump to the floor.

You felt so frail, you could barely lift your head up off of the floor, only to see Lucius completely paralyzed.

Narcissa was still from the casting position she was in previously, trying to catch her breath.

"He needs.... He needs time children, please go up to your room. Y/N, dear, are you okay?" She said, all in-between long, slow breaths.

"I don't know.." You admitted honestly.

“Draco, I will take care of you father here, please take care of Y/N.” Narcissa waved you both off.

Draco lifted you off of the floor, bridal style. You instantly cling to him. You look up and see a tear rolling down his cheek. A bruise was forming on his face from where he had hit the floor. “Draco, your face,” You said softly, your hand landing in his bruised cheek bone. “I am the least of my worries, Y/N. Especially right now.” Draco replied. His grip on your tightened. You arrived to your bedroom. Draco gently placed you on the bed.

He quickly went to his dresser, rummaging through what sounded like glass bottles. Draco finally found a small bottle containing a thin, red liquid. He handed it to you. You were still weak, and slowly raised your hand up to grab it.

“What is this?” You asked with a rasp to your voice.

“Wiggenweld.” Draco said, he seemed uptight. “A healing potion.” He added. You nodded and popped off the cork. You brought the bottle to your lips and downed the potion. A warm, numbing feeling went over you; then the numbing had gone away. Your pain was gone, you were no longer weak.

“I feel so much better, thank you.” You bummed to the platinum boy.

Draco seemed to be spaced out. He wasn’t facing towards you, he was instead looking outside of his window.

“It shouldn’t have even happened.” Draco stressed. “I should’ve been to take the curse.”

You shook your head. “Dray, I’m fine.” you had insisted, getting up from the bed, spinning around slowly to show him you’re safe. Draco stepped towards you, and placed his hands on your waist. His silver eyes meet yours. You’re unable to speak, like you’re in a trance.

“Your protection is my responsibility,” Draco began. “From now on, I promise I will protect you, but now I need to take care of you.” His voice was low, it was in a tone you’d never heard before.

“I need you to take care of me, Dray.” You say seductively. Your hands land on his chest, his hand remain on your sides, but are now slowly running up and down.

He looked at your eyes, then your lips. He held you closer to him, tightening his grip. You smiled up at him and stood up on your tip toes and connected your lips to his. It wasn’t quick, and simple like the ones you’ve had in the past. It was slow, and sensual. Draco was hungry for you, his teeth grazed your bottom lip, making you gasped lightly. He took this as an opportunity to slip his tongue toward yours. He backed up up onto the bed again.

You felt goosebumps on every inch of your body. Draco hovered over you.

“Let me take care of you.”

[darksaiyangoku]

RWBY Winter Tales

Ghostly Winds

For @chaoslordjoe

Jaune and Yang smiled as they watched Tristan and Lionel shape their snowmen. While most children would make simple snowpeople with sticks for arms, stones for eyes and a carrot nose, Tristan and Lionel decided to go all out and make snow sculptures. Tristan's was a knight wielding a sword in both hands, while Lionel's was a puppy with a bone in its mouth. Jaune chuckled as he picked up the younger of the two.

Jaune: Seems like we have ourselves two artisans in the making.

Lionel: *chuckles* You know it! I already have a name for this dog right here.

Jaune: Oh? What is it?

Lionel: Gelert! Just like in the story of the Loyal Dog.

Jaune: Awwww, that's really sweet! I'm sure Gelert would appreciate the tribute.

Yang: What about you, little man? Who's this handsome fellow supposed to be?

Tristan: That's me. Some day, I wanna be a great knight! Just like the ones in Vale!

Yang: *nods head* Very nice! Saving kingdoms, swinging swords and riding off in stylish armour.

Tristan: You know it! But if that doesn't work, I can always be like you and Jaune. A Witcher for hire.

Yang: ...you want to be a Witcher?

Tristan: Eh, maybe. But only if I can't be a knight.

Yang: I see... oh... *frowns*

Tristan: Hm? Are you okay?

Yang: ...you know, I think it's about time you went off to bed! *smiles nervously*

Lionel: Aw what?

Tristan: But it's not even dark yet.

Jaune: Boys, listen to your mother. Night falls faster in winter. Come on now, scoot.

Jaune and Yang hurried back inside and tucked in their children to bed. In the living room, Yang cast Igni on the candles and warmed her hands. She had a saddened look on her face.

Jaune: *places blanket over her* Is everything alright? You seem tense.

Yang: *sighs* Of course I'm tense. Tristan wants to be a Witcher.

Jaune: *raises eyebrow* That's what got you worried? Come on, he's a kid. They're always saying silly things like that.

Yang: But what if he's serious about this? Ever since we took him in after his father died, he's always looked up to us. He sees as heroes, even after some of the terrible things we've done.

Jaune: Isn't that a good thing? He doesn't see us as monsters.

Yang: I know, but our life as Witchers isn't what I want for him. It's filled with pain, blood, hatred. *carresses his cheek* We're a family now and I don't want him to face the kind of dangers we did.

Jaune: *holds Yang* He won't, don't worry. Look, I know you love him, Lionel too, but I think you're letting this get to your head a little. Kids change their mind all the time. Remember when Lionel was adamant about hating turnips. One bite of your roast changed that and now he begs for more every day.

Yang: *chuckles* Yeah, you're probably right. I guess I just didn't realise how hard being a mom would be. *turns to Jaune and kisses him* Thank you, sweetheart.

Jaune: Always. Now can I get some of that blanket? It's freezing.

Yang: *laughs and opens the blanket* Get in here.

Jaune sat on Yang's lap as she draped the blanket over both of them. Outside, the snow started fall heavier and the wind picked up. The sound of hooves thundered the ground as a group of knights in jet black armour raced across the landscape. They screeched and howled, their eyes glowing red as hot flames. Any who came into contact with them would never see their old life, their souls now belonging to the riders. Many nations and kingdoms across Remnant feared them, for they were wraiths that brought the omen of war. They were the Wild Hunt... and they were sending a message.

#rwby #rwby au #rwby fanon #rwby winter tales #the witcher #rwby oc #jaune arc #yang xiao long #tristan arc long #lionel arc long #dragonslayer #rwby dragonslayer #dragonslayer rwby #jaune x yang #yang x jaune #yang xiao long x jaune arc #jaune arc x yang xiao long #the wild hunt

[weneeya]

hiya <3 how are you? I hope you're fine 🫶

I was just wondering, if I could request some Kazuha fluff/comfort? I don't know really have a plot idea, so you can choose anything you want. I'm just feeling quite stressed lately as I've got a new guitar teacher who makes me very very uncomfortable and whose actions trigger some of my earlier childhood trauma but it seems like none of my family and friends understand my situation. The only thing I'm craving right now is some understanding and care from my fav fictional character as I'm afraid of seeing that teacher even three days beforehand :(

I hope you're comfortable with it and it's not too specific. If you don't want to do this kind of content, it's totally fine, please don't feel pressured to write something you don't like/feel like writing!

Anyways, I hope you're safe and have an amazing day <3

safe place w/ kazuha m.list | rules

note. hiii! I'm doing great, ty! I'm so sorry to hear about this, and I hope you're doing okay right now :( it's not easy, especially when you feel alone in this, but everything's gonna be fine I can promise <3 take care of yourself, it's important, and stay safe ; I hope my work would help you at least a little bit <3

You were feeling awful. It was like the world was against you, not giving you even a second to breathe peacefully. Everything was too much, and you were so tired of this. You felt like nothing could be better, and you were even maybe thinking about the worst. 

You were sitting on the edge of a hill, your eyes looking into the void, alone with the silence and the wind. Or at least, until Kazuha arrived. He was doing a small walk in the landscapes of Inazuma when he saw you. This is why he decided to come closer to you. 

He sat right next to you, looking in the same direction as you. He stayed silent, not wanting to ruin the moment. You seemed like you needed this, and it didn’t want to bother you. But leaving you alone felt like this worst idea. 

You sighed slowly, before you let yourself fall slightly against his body, your head resting on his shoulder. You closed your eyes and Kazuha’s hand found its way to yours so he could grab it softly and stroke it with the same softness. 

You didn’t need to talk with Kazuha, and you knew it. He would never force you to say anything, but you knew that he would also be there if you needed to say anything. He was probably the person you felt the most comfortable with, and you were glad that he was here today : you couldn’t do this alone. 

As his fingers were drawing small circles on the back of your hand, he started to hummed softly, looking through the horizon. Your heart felt so much lighter suddenly, and your mind started to get completely blank. All the thoughts you had previously were disappearing and it was all thanks to Kazuha’s presence. 

“You don’t have to stay alone,” he said finally, not looking at you. You opened your eyes, raising your gaze to his face ; he was still looking in front of him. “Call me, and I’ll always come.” He finally met your gaze, and a soft smile could be seen on his lips. 

You felt like you were about to cry. The simple idea of having someone finally understanding you, no matter what, and being here for you was putting you on the verge of tears. You would never be thankful to Kazuha enough, but you knew that he didn’t care. All he cared about was your wellbeing. 

You closed your eyes again, your head still against his shoulder. You both stayed silent, taking a moment to finally breathe. You need this, and maybe that he needed it too. Nothing else existed except you two right now, and it was all that mattered.

take care of yourselves, it's really the most important thing ; and be safe, protect yourselves, you are important, you are loved <3

#kazuha #kaedahara kazuha #kazuha x reader #kazuha headcanons #kazuha hcs #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin hcs #genshin fluff

[gojoidyll]

We Meet Again and Again

caelus (male mc) x reincarnated ! xiao ! m ! reader

I died. My time had finally come. I used to think I would be ok with finally having the burden taken from me... however, there are a few that I will always miss. Like Rex Lapis - er - Zhongli. And, of course..., his thoughts drifted to the blonde haired traveler who he adventured with and saved on multiple occasions.

"I probably won't see you, ever again. And that hurts even more so, than any karmic debt. But maybe .. we'll meet again, in a new life. A different life. One where, I would be more free to travel with someone .. like you, and see the stars that you traveled."

"And it shall be done."

His golden hues snapped open to reveal a vast void landscape. His body floating into the nothing. Though, that soon changed as a light engulfed him. Surrounded his entire being and cradled him gently.

"You'll meet them again, in a new life."

And everything suddenly went dark.

17 YEARS LATER

Y/n L/n lived an honest life. He stayed out of trouble, and even helped people in their time of need. He craved for a food called "Almond Tofu" but .. no one ever seemed to know what he was talking about. Even going as far as saying he dreamed of such a dish and calling it imaginary.

But y/n, oh y/n, he knew that the dish existed. It was just in another world. Or, well, another universe. A universe where his past life was. A life where he was called "Xiao."

"Y/n!"

His eyes shifted. His focus on a rather familiar group of people.

"Danheng, March, and...," his voice faltered when he looked to the third person in their party. Gray hair, gold eyes, light colored skin - y/n couldn't help but to take notice of the slight twinge of pain in his heart.

They introduced y/n to the newcomer.  Caelus .. it wasn't a name he was familiar with.

"It's .. nice to meet you. I'm Y/n L/n," he held out his hand to the taller male before him. And the moment that they fitted their palm into his hand, he felt a small spark light up between them despite the fact that they were both wearing gloves.

"Y/n," he said with a smile, as if remembering the name, "it's also nice to meet you."

Once introductions were over, Danheng grabbed y/n's attention once again.

"We're sorry for bothering, by the way, but there was actually a reason we sought you out."

"The reason being?"

"We need your help! Can you please join our party, Y/n?"

March piped up from next to Caelus and y/n couldn't help but to picture the Traveler and Paimon.

"If you really need my help, then .. I'm all yours."

He couldn't help but to soften a little at Caelus' smile.

I died back in Teyvat, and I never got to see the traveler ever again. But maybe, just maybe, there was an off chance that the one standing before me is who I've been missing the most.

"Thank you so much, and .. to get you even more on board," Caelus took out a compartment from his inventory and opened it up to reveal a certain dish that y/n never thought he would see again.

Almond Tofu.

Well, what do you know? I guess we really did meet again.

#hsr #honkai star rail #caelus #caelus x reader #caelus x y/n #caelus x you #hsr caelus #honkai star rail caelus

[whalyrae]

On the roof pt.1 | Niragi Suguru x gender neutral reader.

Word count : 2.4k

Trigger Warning : mention of school abuse, bullying, violence, death, maybe Niragi is ooc idk I did my best...

AO3 link

Author note : ok, I'm sooo nervous to post this...! this is the first time I post something on tumblr, it's no proofread at all and english isn't my first language so be kind please !

A second part will come, I don't know when, but there will be another part with... more action

Hope you'll like it...!

You were on the roof of the Beach. Thanks to Ann - you still don't know how she got there anyway - she managed to get a notebook, a pencil and an eraser, at your request.

Days at the Beach could be long and boring. Thankfully, you spent a lot of your free time in good company; Kuina was a lovely person, and even though Chishiya wasn't the most talkative, you managed to get along and have interesting conversations. Usagi and Tata were also very good companies. As for Arisu, you saw him as a big brother, you had the same centers of interest, the fictional universe as well as video games, you could talk about that for hours.

You were pretty well surrounded. But sometimes you felt the need to isolate yourself, to clear your mind. Living in this country was not easy, and every day was a tough and trying test for the physical, but also the mental.

The only thing that was able to relax you was drawing. Sometimes you isolated yourself on the roof of the beach, and you drew the landscape that offered itself to you, animals, you drew the portrait of your friends, or simply the first thing that crossed your mind. You were just alone with yourself, your thoughts, it wasn’t really healing, but for some hours, your only thoughts were turned to the strokes of pencils on this sheet of paper.

This time, you were drawing the pool beside you. There were a lot of people who were playing, dancing... having the time of their lives, like there's no tomorrow.

Your friends knew you had this habit of isolating yourself from time to time, and they respected that. However, today, someone you never expected came to disturb your moment of tranquility.

« Hey, what are you doing here? »

That male voice startled you, eliciting a laugh from the disruptor. 

You had turned around to find yourself facing the right arm of the leader of the activists. The one everyone feared, always accompanied by his sniper taped to his shoulder. 

Shoulder-length black hair, face and tongue piercings, a predator, ready to get rid of anyone who got in his way.

Suguru Niragi.

What was he doing here? What did he want from you?

« Saw you from the pool, so what are you doing here? He asked, approaching you, his free hand in his pocket. - I… hum, just drawing, you answered, showing him your notebook. »

He leaned slightly to take a look at what you were doing, then straightened up.

« Hm. It's not bad, he hummed, nodding his head. »

You looked up at him, surprised. Niragi giving you a compliment? It wasn’t something common. You felt your cheeks heat up at the compliment, a big smile appearing on your face.

« Really? Thank you! It's just a simple sketch I did it in less than an hour, and then I'm not excellent at all with perspective ... It has always been my weak point. I rather prefer to draw characters or animals... Ah, sorry, I have a bad habit of talking too much when it comes to drawing.... I can come down if I disturb here... » 

He arched an eyebrow when he saw you get up, you didn't want to upset him or anything.

« You can stay. Just checked you weren't some weirdos who were up to something fishy. - Oh, thanks! »

You greeted him with a smile and saw him turn on his heels, already leaving. An idea crossed your mind. You knew it wasn’t good. Especially about him. You knew you were going straight into a wall, that he was going to snub you, probably insulting you. But your words went faster than your brain and your reason.

« Wait, Niragi! Can I … Can I draw you? » 

He stopped. And you regretted immediately your request. He wasn’t that kind of type to just sit down and pose while someone drew him. 

« I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… Forget what I s- - ‘kay. »

You looked at him, again. You couldn’t hide your surprise, which made him laugh. 

« I have nothing to do, my shift is over, and I’m kinda bored. Don’t fail me, though. - Don’t worry about that, you answered with a smile, showing him the last portrait you did, it was Mira taking her daily cup of tea, I don’t have many skills in life, I’m not beautiful, nor smart or even physically strong, but drawing isn’t a part of it! - What kind of bullshit are you saying. Seriously. He rolled his eyes, visibly annoyed, well. We’ll see. The result will decide whether you will live or not. »

Seeing your face decompose at his words, he bursts into a nasty laugh.

« Just kidding princess, relax. - Don’t call me like that. »

You frowned. You knew this request was useless, if he wanted to call you like that, he would, whether you wanted or not. 

Minutes passed where none of you spoke. You were too focused on your drawing, he was probably lost in thought, or something like that. Niragi was similar to Chishiya on certain points. It was impossible to know what he was thinking, what his next words or actions would be.  

« You were a drawer before landing here, right. - Hm? You looked up at him, nodding, I assisted a mangaka for the inking, yeah all that. My dream was to publish my own manga, one day, but… » 

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. 

« But what? Have you been refused? The world of drawing is as cruel as the world of video games, tho. - You were working for the video game's industry? - I was a game engineer. »

Wow. You were really impressed. You’d never thought that this man was doing something like that. Well, you never doubted that Niragi was more than that kind of person he was showing to everyone at the Beach.

Borderland was showing the worst side of every human. You weren’t an exception. You had to do things to survive. Things you shouldn’t regret, even if you did. 

« Are we amazed, princess? He asked with a grin. - To be honest, yeah, I didn’t expect that from you, you answered, ignoring his surname, but you were wrong for something, I… you paused for a few seconds, and sighed, I’ve never submitted my project to any magazine or something. I never had the chance. »

You felt a gaze land on you. You looked up to meet Niragi's, but directly broke eye contact, shaking your head.

« It’s nothing, I’ve always been unlucky. »

You sighed. 

« I agreed to hang around here with you while you draw me, you owe me few answers. » 

He was kinda right. Even if he saw that those answers hurt you. This man didn’t really have any empathy ? Or maybe his need to know was hiding something else ? 

Nice. Now you were curious. 

« Fine, I’ll tell you. »

You rolled your eyes. 

« I wasn’t that popular in High School, you started, focus on your drawing, sometimes, you gave him little glances, but only for your drawing, of course, my classmates loved to play with me. Hiding my class notes, my bag, my shoes, throwing food in my hair you know, like the teacher used to say… - Just children games, yeah, I know. » 

You looked at him. Surprised. Was he… no, it was impossible. Niragi was so confident, so scary, so cool ? Yeah, despite everything about him, you always found Niragi kinda cool. Just like Chishiya, you admired his intelligence and self-confidence. He didn't care how people looked at him, what they thought of him. 

So him ? Being bullied ? 

« Niragi, you… - Shut up. Keep talking. - Fine, fine… So… I had this notebook, a pretty black notebook, which I’d decorated myself, all my ideas for my manga were there. It was a story in a fantasy world, all the ideas, the drawings about the world building, the chara design, the story was there… I had it since I was twelve. » 

You took a small break. Those memories weren’t really that far. Maybe one year or two. 

You inhaled deeply, without stopping your drawing. You had to stay focused on something. You felt Niragi's gaze on you, but you couldn't face it.

« Don’t know how this happened, but they found my notebook. One thing led to another, they reduced this notebook to ashes, your voice was shaking, like your hands, the pages torn, burned in front of me. All my life, all my dreams, hopes, flown, ruined. » 

You made a pause, taking deep breath to not cry. You didn’t want to cry. Not in front of him. In front of anyone. You didn’t want to be that weak person you were in the past ever again. 

« It could’ve ended like this. But no. They didn't have enough. I don't even know why they were like that with me, why they hated me so much that they hit me with that belt and broke that glass bottle on my head. I never knew why. But they did. »

Your eyes were burning. You did your best to hold back your tears. 

« I spent weeks in the hospital, I had broken ribs and head trauma. After that, I finished my studies at home. - What did they have, those assholes who did this to you ? He finally asks, his voice seemed calm, but he was angry. - Nothing, just some few hours of detention, I think. Never saw them again. » 

You shrugged, and took a deep breath. 

« You wanted to know, happy ? »

Your voice was more aggressive than you thought. It wasn’t against him. You were just angry about those bullies, about your High School who did nothing, against the whole world for having made your life so complicated and shitty.

You didn’t know what he was thinking right now, maybe you suspected that talking about it had probably brought back painful memories for him, and you suddenly felt bad for not thinking about it sooner. But he’d insisted that you talk, and you hadn't connected the dots about his own experience as you told. He would have stopped you if it was too hard for him, right ?

« I’m sorry if I brought back so bad memories… you started, nibbling your lips, ah, there, I’m done, you added, giving him your notebook, sorry for the vent, I know you don’t care about my childish stories. - Shut up. I care. I’m angry, and I want to kill those bastards for what they did to you. » 

You stared at him, meeting his angry eyes. Again, like for you, it wasn’t against you. 

« Did you… take revenge on them ? You dared to ask, biting your lip nervously. - No, I didn’t. - I’m… sorry. You whispered, you didn’t deserve to endure all of that, Niragi. - You didn’t deserve it, you too. »

Your tears ran down your cheeks without you controlling it. It was the first time you heard these words. 

It wasn’t your fault. 

You put down the notebook, and turned your head slightly, lifting your hair and showing him a long scar on the back of your head, and you heard curses, maybe too many curses.

« I have more on my body, that’s why I’m always wearing a jacket, you gave him a sad smile, wiping your tears, ah, and I’m crying now, amazing. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna ask you a hug ! » 

You chuckled and got up, tearing off the page containing his portrait, which you signed on the back before handing it to him.

« Take it, it’s a gift for thanking you. For this moment. It’s been a while since I hadn't spoked to someone who understood me… no, in fact, it's the first time ! Thank you very much, Niragi. »

You gave him the paper, and a warm smile appeared on your face. 

You understood that he had gone through the same thing, too. The pieces of the puzzle had come together on their own. Why was he acting like this at the beach and with everyone.

He understood you. He was the only one who truly understood you. 

Because he's been through all this shit, too. 

That's why he made you talk, tell him what you had been through, why he didn't cut you off. 

Why he didn't blame you. 

Every person who heard this story did, the doctors, your parents, your therapist. In their eyes, it was your fault, you hadn't made enough efforts to socialize, drawing, videos games, dreaming about a fantasy world were weird hobbies. 

You've been criticized more than once for not being "normal".

Your eyes had filled with tears that you couldn’t longer contain, your body had begun to shake, and you hated it for abandoning you like this, for being so weak, so vulnerable. 

Why couldn't you be strong and brave like Niragi was? Why couldn't you fuck the world off, too?

You felt a hand land on your head. Your eyes looked up to meet his again, while he was patting your head. You knew Niragi wasn't the kind of guy to be good at reassuring, consoling or god knows what else showing affection, but he had done something. You felt your face heat up, but it didn't last long. Something else took place in your mind, a thought you had once had, but always suppressed it because you were ashamed of it. 

In this world ? In the Borderlands ? Being ashamed for those kinds of thoughts had no place, because there were very few consequences.

Revenge.

« I… you began, voice shaking, not very sure of what you were about to say, I want them to pay for what they did, they don’t deserve to be happy too… - Say it, it was an order, you could feel his hand running gently through your hair, which surprised you slightly, what do you want, y/n ? - I want them to die, Niragi. » 

You heard him chuckle before patting your head. As if he was satisfied with your words. As if he’d guessed that you had always wanted him deep inside.

Of course, he knew, he had been through the same thing as you after all.

Maybe this world poisoned you more than you thought.

#alice in borderland #niragi suguru #niragi x reader #niragi fanfiction #niragi alice in borderland #niragi x you #niragi suguru x reader #niragi suguru x you #alice in borderland x reader #alice in borderland fanfiction #aib #aib x reader #aib fanfiction #aib imagines #aib x you #alice in borderland x you #imawa no kuni no arisu #imawa no kuni no arisu fanfiction

[avrelia]

Braving the Elements season 3

The new season of the podcast Braving the Elements concerning the book 3 of the Avatar the Last Airbender started, predictably with the appearance of Mike and Bryan. They talked a little about how busy they are with “something” and a bit more about book 3 “Fire”. There was a lot of mutual admiration and general excitement, but we got some information as well.

- It’s been 20 years, and they don’t remember every detail of their thought process

- they remember some stuff, and are always happy to talk about their inspirations. Like Bryan talking about his trip to Iceland, his admiration for its natural beauty made by volcanic activity, and how Iceland photos became Fire Nation landscapes.

- or Mike telling about his trip to Bhutan and his awe at the Tiger’s Nest temple that became an inspiration for the Western Air Temple.

- they talked about how Ozai’s face reveal – that he is just a regular guy who looks like older Zuko whole we don’t see until Zuko meets him face to face – was initially thought to mean one thing, then it started to mean a slightly different thing, and it is fine.

- Dante was super excited to meet Mark Hamill when recording voices for Zuko and Ozai. (who wouldn’t)

- they talked about inspiration for the lion turtle they found in Korea, and that it really was meant to me there in the story from the beginning, and they tried to hide it while giving away glimpses.

- 99.9% of Air Nomads were airbenders. Because that’s how they invented that world, that’s why.

- Aang was never going to kill Ozai. Never ever. He is a monk and has monk ethics no matter what everyone was telling him.

- animating the scene where Aang and Ozai’s souls are fighting for the dominance during the energybending moment was rather challenging.

- In Bryan’s mind, Iroh is ten years older than Ozai. It is not a confirmed canon, more like idea. Iroh looks much older because of the life he lived, while Ozai has an amazing skincare routine.

- they don’t know any other Fire lords’ names. But you know, those names appear and will appear in various materials – novels, RPG, etc.

- Mike and Bryan love canon relationships – surprise!

- Dante admitted that while he ships Zutara, he started vibing with Zuko/Mai’s relationship as well as he was actually watching the show. Which is fine, and only serves to show his general attitude to shipping: it is a fun activity that keeps the interest going and in the long term helps him to earn money.

- Yes, Dante, there are good people in the Fire Nation, as you’ve been saying all the previous episodes. This time everyone agreed, since we are finally arriving to the Fire Nation.

- I probably forgot something, but you may listen to it – or, for the first time – also watch it on the Avatar the last Airbender official Youtube channel. At first I thought why? And then after I listened to the podcast I couldn’t remember what said Bryan and what said Mike. Not to imply that they are the same – they are very much not- but I have a trouble distinguishing voices I don’t know well. So I watched a bit – and really liked it. Whoever edited the video did a great job of adding some visual jokes and visual illustrations to whatever Janet, Dante, Mike and Bryan were saying. So we can see how Bryan’s photos of Iceland became the Fire Nation, and how Tiger’s Nest looks like.

And it is so easy to remember who was saying what! Mike is the one who looks like Aang, Bryan is the one who looks like Zuko, Dante is the one who sounds like Zuko. And occasionally talks as if he is Zuko.

#avatar the last airbender #atla #zuko #aang #ozai #braving the elements #bryan konietzko #mike dimartino #dante basco #janet varney

[somnambulic-thing]

nothing like a storm

Eddie Munson x OFC Rating: E (there will be smut, 18+) Words: 10k read on ao3 no upside down, Goth!OFC Warnings: mention of child neglect, mention of alcoholism ||fluff, angst, arguing, making up/happy end, established relationship, slice of life, first Ily, piv, oral>f, teasing, edging, fingering, rough sex, soft sex, affectionately mean sex (I guess)||

Summary: Eddie's girlfriend got stuck in a rainstorm on her way to his trailer and he was trying to find her, unaware that this storm would be the most significant weather event of their lives. When he finally pulled Finch into his van, more than the sky started to unravel.

1

It had been a long day.

A long day of mowing lawns and raking leaves and Eddie was exhausted. But the two things that changed after Rick had been locked up were that good weed was much harder to come by, which meant a decrease in income and that Eddie had discovered that he was actually not bad at gardening, even though it had turned out that being a small town undercover weed farmer was an unrealistic feat for him to take on alone. But the one thing Eddie always had been was creative. Making the best out of a subpar situation was his second language. So he had started knocking on doors, hanging out flyers and to his absolute surprise, had scored one gig with a wealthy old couple and their ginormous lawn. They had moved to Hawkins to retire recently, which was good for Eddie because they weren’t fluent in the small-town gossip yet. They also paid well. Far more than he had expected. Which was very very welcome, because it wasn’t even half a year left until graduation and he could use every damn cent if… well if. Word got out that the Munson kid actually had some skills and was a rather friendly guy and so it came to be that Eddie worked three to four different properties on the weekends. Today though, it had felt like double that amount and only the generous tip from his last client made him not want to quit that shit altogether. Eddie lay on his bed, head propped up against the wall, a guitar on his stomach strumming along to some of his favourite tunes droning into his ears over his headphones. Time to play and practice had been sparse lately and he utilized every time he could find but it wasn’t as much fun as it could be when your arms felt sore from landscaping most of the day. A slow lazy evening with Finch was all he wanted today. He wanted to stay in bed, he wanted pizza and Finch’s fingers massaging his scalp, playing with his hair while she told him about her week, with some music playing in the background. It had been far too long since the last fuck that hadn’t been rushed and squeezed in between things but his legs were really killing him and he never had been good with just laying back. So, If he got lucky, Finch would read to him while he strummed some more on his unplugged guitar and he’d probably be out like a light before midnight. The jaws of half of Hawkins would hit the floor if they knew how the Freak preferred to spend the majority of his evenings these days. As the current song ran out, Eddie could hear a loud noise from outside. He turned his head to the window and wondered when it had gotten so dark. He put down his headphones and guitar and went to look out the window. The sky had opened and unleashed all the water there was in the world. Thunder was rolling over the trailer park, the sound made the fine hairs on his neck stand up. “Shit,” he hissed, knowing that by now Finch would be on her way over. On her bike. “Shit!” Eddie stepped into his pants that lay next to his bed and pulled some clean clothes from a drawer, put his jacket on and on his way out grabbed a towel from the small bathroom. He shielded the clothes from the rain by tucking them under his shirt as he sprinted to his van, praying that on this one occasion, Finch hadn’t taken a different way out to the trailer park than she usually did. Driving slowly and carefully while the windshield wiper worked hard against the relentless rain, he kept an eye out for his girlfriend, chewing his bottom lip with worry. It couldn’t have been that long ago since he had left the trailer park, but it felt like forever until a dark silhouette finally emerged from the endless haze in front of him. “There you are,” he huffed out relieved and pressed the horn in his signature rhythm, making another mental note about the many advantages of dating a Goth girl. Through to downpour, he could see Finch lift her head and wave. He stopped next to her, rolled down the window just enough to call out “Side door.” and closed it again.

When he slid the door open, Finch handed him her bike. “Oh god, you are saving my life,”

“I live to serve you, milady. Now get into the damn car.”

As he made sure to safely stow her beloved bicycle in the back, the door closed behind him and he smiled as a stream of punched-out curses quietly flowed from Finch’s mouth. He turned back to her and paused:

It was almost infuriating, how the list of states in which she was just absolutely gorgeous kept growing and growing. Cold and drenched, long black hair sticking to her face and neck in strands that almost looked ornamental, a red hot blush high on her cheeks while small streams of water ran down her soft skin and pooled a little in the hollow of her collar bones. Like a siren he had just pulled out of the vast and violent sea; he was just mesmerized. Finch was pushing her hair up her forehead, the black liner around her eyes smudged and runny and she beamed at him like the autumn skies didn’t just try to viciously drown her. “I’m dripping all over your floor,” she said, shaking her arms and flinging drops of water everywhere. “And I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Tilting her head slightly, she smiled in that sultry way that made him weak and crawled over to him until their faces were only inches apart. “This is just what you do to me, Munson.” She cupped his face in her cold wet hands, a stray drop running down his jaw and neck, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Eddie eagerly grabbed her wrists, feeling goosebumps under his fingertips and instead of leaning in as he wanted to, pulled back. “You’re freezing, Finch. Christ.” He pressed another quick kiss to her mouth and moved to the front, grabbing the bundle of warm clothes from the passenger seat. “Here,” he handed her the towel first, “I brought you dry stuff, so you don’t catch some nasty cold that you pass on to me because I can’t stay away from you for more than five minutes.”

“As altruistic as ever. Thank you.” Finch pressed her face into the towel and groaned, then dried her hands and began to peel out of her wet coat while speaking with a casualness that made the words coming out of her mouth even more surreal. “Fuck, have I told you that I love you?” Suddenly, Eddie’s heartbeat was pounding in his throat. He’d imagined those words in her voice before so many times, was equally scared of them as he craved to hear them and now it had just happened, in the back of his van while the world was drowning and she wasn’t even looking at him. “Ahm, no,” his brain said on autopilot. “No, never.”

The soaked coat dropped on the floor with a wet and heavy thump and Finch’s head shot up, eyes slightly widened and full of– what? Regret? Embarrassment? “I said that out loud, didn’t I?” Eddie nodded. She looked at him for a few more moments before speaking again. “Was that… ahm, bad timing or is the overall message the problem?” “Huh,” he mumbled out of his stupor, “What problem?” Finch crossed her arms in front of her stomach, wringing her hands that still looked so cold with red knuckles and fingertips. “Eddie, you suddenly look more in despair as I’m sure I look dishevelled–” “No, you’re beautiful!” Fuck. What was he doing? This wasn’t supposed to be this awkward. “I’m sorry— I…” “It’s alright,” she said with a careful smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Can you hand me those? I’m really cold.” Finch pointed at the bundle of clothes in his hands and he snapped into motion again. This he could do, handing over clothes was an easy enough task. “Yeah, sure. Of course.” She carefully placed the clothes on a cardboard box next to her and started to take off her drenched Siouxie Souix shirt; not without a little difficulty as the wet fabric stuck to her skin. Eddie’s mind went a mile a minute while his sublime girlfriend undressed in front of him and still, there were no words, not even an inkling of what to say or do and the fear that his silence was ruining everything while he was pondering if she’d just given him the greatest gift or if she had cursed him was almost overwhelming.

“Shit… this… stupid…” Finch sighed, struggling to take off her wet jeans. “Eddie?” she asked almost timidly and he hated himself. “I’m stuck.” “Come here… let me…” She had pushed the pants past her hips herself and Eddie carefully hooked his fingers under the soaked black fabric and started to pull. “Can you lift your hips a little?... Yeah, like that.” He tried to find her eyes with his but Finch had focused her gaze on her knees and as his hands slid over her kneecaps she turned her face towards the ceiling. He’d fucked up.

Finch sighed in relief when he finally pulled the pants off her ankles and threw them onto the pile with her other things, knocking over one dirty boot. She was shivering, rubbing her thighs with her palms. “Did it hurt?” he asked uselessly, sure he saw the answer to what he really wanted to ask on her face and the way she pulled the towel to her chest and lap as soon as her legs were bare. “No, all good,” a sad smile. “Was just sticky.” Of course, I fucking love you too! his mind roared. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Because in less than six months an era came to an end and he wasn’t stupid enough to tell himself that staying together would be easy. Because love didn’t conquer all - he’d seen it countless times - but it sure as hell would rip your chest wide open and leave you bleeding on the floor when you let it. And a part of him had hoped that he could cushion the blow somehow. Make it less jarring, by not stating the obvious when he walked into his room and Finch was spread out on his bed, her legs crossed up on the wall, feet twitching in the rhythm to whatever was coming out of his headphones while she hummed along so out of tune that sometimes the song was unrecognisable. Or when he’d planned his escape from the country that one time she’d asked him to trim her sidecut and he had messed up badly and then she had started to laugh, for fucks sake, her loud wild contagious laugh and he had ended up laughing so hard himself that he’d gotten the hiccups.

So yeah, he wanted to grab her and kiss her and say corny, sticky, filthy things into her ear and make her wet in a different way, wanted to feel her skin turn warm again under his touch and tell her that he wasn’t terrified that knowing now that she loved him too would make it hurt so much more when their lives broke apart eventually. But he was terrified. “Do you need anything else?” he asked like he was working at a checkout and hauled himself to the driver's seat when she shook her head while taking off her bra behind the towel. It felt like aeons passed while she changed; Eddie repressed the urge to check on her in the mirror and watched the water stream down his windshield instead. Finch let out a sigh when she finally slumped down into the passenger seat. She’d chewed on her lip and there was a little dot of blood at the corner of her mouth. He knew it was a cliche but he loved to see her in his clothes. It felt warm and familiar and like home, his little Goth in his flannel; he’d always loved red on her and there were so few occasions to enjoy it. But he’d made an effort to not stupidly stare at her when she appeared and looked out of his window instead. You’re an idiot, Munson, he thought and opened his mouth at last. “So–” “It’s alright, Eddie.” Finch looked at him with sad eyes. “You can drive me back home.” “What?”

“It is what it is. I understand–” He didn’t mean to laugh and it sounded harsh and wrong in his ears, “No, I don’t think you do.” “You haven’t even looked at me since I sat down.” Eddie looked at her now, trying to ignore his racing heart, the stupid urge to just kiss her. “Because it, ahm, doesn’t help with the thinking to look at you like this.” “Ok, yeah, you’re right, I don’t understand, just–”

“It’s a big deal for me, ok?” Finch huffed a surprised laugh and looked at her hands. “So I’d hoped…”

“And, ahm, I am stumbling over my own fucking feet right now, terrified that I am colossally ruining everything.” “That’s a big word. A little, maybe…” “Don’t!” he said through his teeth, face hard, “please don’t fuck with me right now, Finch.” “Eddie, relax. It’s ok. I'm not expecting you to say it just because I did. This isn't a transaction... if that's not how you feel then that's just life, I'd just like to know if we're driving to your place or if I'm going back to mine. Or you drive me back and we talk about it tomorrow–” 

“You still don’t understand.” Finch turned in her seat, facing him fully, her brows drawn together. “You know, I think my mindreading abilities struggle with your thick skull, so just say what you want to say, please?” “I never want you to go back to your place ever again…” he flinched, “shit... that sounded like I'm kidnapping you... but it's fucking true. I don't want there to be a your place and a my place anymore but I don't fucking know if that's a possible scenario… like ever.”

“Why do you never say anything?” “Because I’m scared of you telling me to fuck off.” Finch looked upset and tapped his leg whit an accusatory finger. “Am I that shitty of a girlfriend to make you even consider this a possibility?”

“No,” he groaned and rubbed his face with both hands. “Then why?” “Because,” Eddie kicked off his muddy sneakers and pulled his legs up on his seat, “you have big plans, Finch. With your art school and all the travelling you always daydream about. And you absolutely should do all of those things but I… I have no idea how I could follow you–” “Eddie… you have big plans too—”

“Unless, uhm, there is an estranged grandfather out there for me too who leaves me with a surprise trust fund when he croaks I have no idea how I can keep up with you because I’ll be busy working my ass off making rent and shit before I get even close to where I want to be.”

He felt shitty as soon as he said it. It sounded petty but the truth was, that since she had almost kicked in his door with the letter from her late grandfather's lawyer a little short of a year ago, the outlook on things had changed. One day they were just two poor kids making the most out of a little and the next Finch had the key to a door he couldn’t follow her through no matter how many lawns he mowed.

She was silent for a moment, jaw tight and brows low. “I had no idea this was weighing on you like that… I mean you never want to talk about what comes after school, not really, anyway. I know you talk to Steve about it–” “Christ, Harrington!”

“He never tells me details,” she shrugged. “So what, does that mean?” “What does what mean?” She waved her hand, pointing between them, black nail-polish chipped on the two nails she tended to chew on when she was nervous. “This… whole situation here.” “Nothing! I… listen, I just had an exhausting day trying to make some money to put to the side for… you know, after school. And I miss you because shit‘s been so busy lately that I feel we never really just talk anymore like we used to, you know? All of that is in my head and then, uh, I find myself looking for you in the fucking flood of the century hoping you're ok and then you get in here, looking like a nymph, or a goddamned siren and just casually drop this like… like you mean it–”

“I mean it.” Eddie groaned and pressed his forehead to his knees, muffling the whine in his voice at least a little. “What I’m saying is I wasn’t prepared.” Finch laughed, “Did you want a formal announcement? In a fancy envelope? Should I’ve contacted the press?” “Fuck off.” He couldn’t help but smile a little and looked up at her again.

“Eddie… I’m spending all my free time with you, I tell you that you’re my favourite person at least once a day, I wear your underwear and not just during thunderstorms.”

Finch had lifted a hand in front of his face and counted with her fingers. “I make you mixtapes, try to come to as many Corroded Coffin shows as I can, I draw your stupid face on every surface I get my hands on - it’s a little embarrassing, actually - I leave you silly little notes with hearts and shit everywhere and I punched a bitch last year because she insulted you in front of me and got suspended for two weeks and I don’t even want to get into all the things we do to each other when we’re naked and you’re telling me you weren’t prepared to hear me say that I love you? Ouch?” Something ruptured inside Eddie's stomach and flooded him with warmth with a bitter layer of guilt on top. He pinched one eye close and tried to explain. “But you also call me your best friend all the time.” “Duh,” she rolled her eyes and leaned forward, “that is because you are my best friend, Munson.” The contrast between her voice - peak annoyed and angry - and her face - soft and caring - was astounding. “And you know what, I think that is the best part–” Eddie put down his legs, grabbed Finch by the wrist and pulled her over to his seat and into his lap, wrapped his arms around her back, his face buried into the bend of her neck, holding her like he was scared she could realize this very moment what an idiot he was and flee out into the rain. Which a part of him still was. Finch was tense at first but then settled against his chest, one hand on his back and the other nestled in his hair. “You alright, Eds?”

“I love you too,” he spoke his lips pressed against her skin, “so much.”

He could feel her chest expand with a deep breath and he pulled away, anxious to see her face.

She smiled. “Christ… you really scared me for a minute. Started to think I’ve been hallucinating this for all this time.” “Yeah, guess I’m somewhat of an asshole.”  “No,” Finch leaned down and kissed him, soft and sweet. “You’re caring and kind and you make me laugh and you’re safe and you’re loving and sometimes fucking impossibly dramatic in your passionate way…” “Well, yeah,” he laughed, head spinning a little, “you make being difficult very easy sometimes.” “I have no idea what that means,” Finch laughed with him.

“Neither do I,” he sighed and ran his hands up her back. “I’m just glad I didn’t fuck this up.” Finch tapped his forehead and he blinked in surprise. “Ouch again, when you think that all that it takes to scare me off is one awkward fight.” “You told me to drive you home!!! I almost perished with the shock.” She rolled her eyes again and kissed him, longer this time, and the warmth spread further inside him. “I still want you to drive me home, I’m still cold and I love the sound of rain on the roof of the trailer.” “You calling my place home now?” a wide smile spread over his face. “Been calling it that to myself for a while now.” She brushed a wild strand of hair off his face, voice serious. “I’m sorry when I gave you the feeling that you couldn’t keep up… or whatever. I Never even considered that; in my mind, you’re always right by my side.”

“Yeah, uh, how about you don’t make me cry right now because I’m already seeing shit far out of my windshield as it is.” “Ok,” she kissed his nose and got up from his lap. “Home, hot shower, then making you cry. Sounds like a good plan.” Eddie nodded and chuckled. “And I could eat something.” “Pizza?” “Fuck, I love you.”

2

The drive back to the trailer park had been quiet, but not in the mind-numbing awful way like after she had told Eddie that she loved him. They had that figured out pretty quickly when they had become friends; how to be in silence with each other. And there were many different kinds of silence to explore. There was the silence Eddie needed after his gigs. Still strumming with every fibre of his body from the high it gave him even if the crowd was only five guys and a deaf dog, he needed time to process, to go over every song in his mind to assess the parts that needed more practice or filter out those which sounded ok during rehearsals but didn’t work during live shows. There was the silence Finch needed when an idea struck her and she had to sketch it out or write it down. This could happen in any situation - during meals, in the middle of a movie or even on Eddie’s lap with him thrusting deep inside her - and while it had confused him in the beginning, especially during sex, he had learned to embrace it. More so, it had made him aware of the thrill it gave him to delay coming as long as possible.

The silence in the van on the ride home had been a space to adjust, for both of them. They both knew that the current fight had blown over - different than the storm outside - but that it had laid open something big and pressing, something that was potentially threatening their little capsule of adolescent romance. They rarely ever fought - they bickered, had their disputes and got annoyed with each other, sure - but something that felt this high stakes hadn’t happened often. Maybe not ever until today. Finch kept glancing at him, elbow on the windowsill, chin propped on his knuckles; just watching Eddie exist was one of her favourite things to do. It was rare to find someone who was as bluntly and unapologetically himself as Eddie was. There were many days when being her true self felt safer when she was with him than when she was on her own. She knew this was a problem but one day after the other, right? It gnawed on her, that he had held back all of what she had just learned for such a long time. It wasn’t like him and it had scared her. Eddie parked as close to the trailer as he could and they ran up the stairs giggling and howling while the wind drove the rain on mercilessly. The silence was over again and they both felt needy. After adjusting came healing and they both healed faster in each other's arms. The nagging feeling inside her chest abate when as soon as the door had fallen closed, Eddie took her wrist and spun her around, pulling her close to his chest a grin spread over his face, dark eyes fixating on her. She never got enough of this. “You want some company in the shower?” Finch wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. “You smell like you took one recently.” She got up on her toes and pressed her face up his neck, inhaling his scent mixed with his soap that made her think of evergreen forests. “You smell so nice… hmm.” She let her lips ghost over the skin of his throat up to his jaw where she settled, pressing her lips to gently suck on his skin. “Uhm, yeah, no way you’re showering alone now, Christ.” 

Her skin still was so cold that the water stung on her upper arms and thighs, but Eddie wrapping his arms around her from behind, kissing up her shoulder to her ear, distracted her from the feeling. They stayed until the warm water ran out, kissing, touching, squeezing, running their hands over all their favourite parts until they both had fully mapped each other out once more. Finch loved to cup Eddie’s sharp jaw, to slide further up, slicking his wet hair back as the water streamed down his face, eyes closed and lips parted. This was home too, being here with him, naked, soft and sensual and close. This was a need different to lust, a desire that didn’t burn white and hot but was not less urgent. He had fucked her against those shower walls many times before, but there were no words needed between them to know what they both needed in this moment. She felt it in the way he touched her.

When they were dry and dressed again, the rain had gone from pouring to a strong drizzle. They watched it from the window in Eddie’s room, as they discussed what kind of pizza to get, still unable to keep their hands off the other one. “Okay, alright,” Eddie sighed in feigned defeat, pulling her close to his chest again, “a few olives won’t kill me, I hope.” “You don’t have to eat them, you know? Just pick them off and I’ll take them off your hands gladly.” Eddie scrunched up his nose. “But you can still taste them after… intense little fuckers,” he chuckled.

It hadn’t been too long after they had started to hang out that this chuckle had made her realize that she would stand no chance of not falling for this goofy antsy guy who gathered outcasts around him to take that very title away from them. Finch had to kiss the corner of his smirking mouth. “Or,” she said still in kissing distance, “you could tell them to only put them on one side of each pizza.”

“Ohh,” eyes big and wondrous, “that is a smart idea. You’re a smart woman… why did we never think of that before? All the suffering…” Finch snorted and Eddie kissed her, long and soft, his arms around her almost a little too tight but sometimes -like today- that wasn’t close enough. It was hard to pull away and even then their foreheads still stayed together. “So, uhm, you get cosy and warm in bed and I get us something to bite? I’m getting really hungry.” “Hmm… me too… better you get going.” “Yeah,” he stole a quick kiss, his hands wandering up her sides, “Otherwise, we’ll end up eating at midnight again…” “Or, hear me out,” Finch almost purred, “I come with you. Just to supervise the nasty olive business… Not because I don’t want to let you go…” “Good!” Eddie straightened up and smirked, “that makes everything way easier. Put on some shoes!” He gave her a little clap on the ass as she followed his orders and another tingling kiss before they stepped out into the rain again.

This ride wasn’t quiet; there was music and laughter and every now and then Finch or Eddie turned up the volume on their favourite parts, singing along, loud and out of tune. The upside to being used that people stared at you on the streets no matter what you did other than looking different than the average shop window suggested was that you could let yourself go like that. Two freaks out on a rainy Saturday evening, blasting the streets of downtown with the wildest shit their by now pretty mingled tape collection had to offer, living their best life. People had started calling them fire and brimstone when they officially had started dating and while they acted all annoyed and grumpy on the outside, they had loved it from the first second. There had been no question that Finch was fire and Eddie brimstone. On a trip to Indianapolis to visit Finch’s cousin and - really - just to get out of Hawkins for a few days, Eddie had pulled Finch into every record shop they had passed. In the last one Eddie had hyperfocused on the crates of records as in the shops before, while Finch had rummaged through a box of merchandise with a big discount sticker on it. “EDDIE!” she had shrieked and startled not only Eddie but the other three customers and the very stoned shopkeeper. “What?” he had jogged over to her. “Did something bite you? Do I need to slay a monst–” his eyes had gone wide and a grin crept over his face as she held the loot into his face. “No. Way.” He’d held the patch into the air like a precious artefact; the alchemic symbol for sulfur - brimstone - inside an upturned triangle, the alchemic symbol for fire. “Is there another one?” he’d asked and started to rifle through the box himself, soon impatiently throwing out shirts and patches left and right until he found a second one with a cry of triumph. They had been a few coins short for both patches and a record Eddie had searched for months, but the inebriated salesman either didn’t care or wanted them out of the shop and let them have everything for less. They had spent the evening listening to the new record, fucking on her cousin's couch and with Finch reading to Eddie while he stitched the patches to his vest and her favourite jacket.

Now, while they waited for their pizza, Finch played with Eddie’s patch that was just on the hem of the vest right above his left hip, running her fingers over the raised lines. “You feeling me up, sweetheart?” “Something like that, Sulfur.” Eddie turned to her, fast. “What did I tell you about calling me that in public?” “That I better be prepared for dingy-back-alley sex?” “Exactly,” he grinned, then he rolled his eyes and sighed. “If I wasn’t sore as hell and starving right now, you seductive demon…”

Five minutes later they were on their way back with their pizza loaded. They stopped at a gas station; filling the tank and grabbing a six-pack before Eddie broke a new record in scaring the shit out of Finch with his driving. Finch jumped out of the car as soon as it had come to an abrupt halt. “YOU MANIAC!” Eddie almost fell out of his door laughing, “YOU LOVE ME!” “DON’T WEAPONIZE MY LOVE FOR YOU, MUNSON!” Finch had rounded the car with the sixpack in hand, shoving it at Eddie who struggled to keep it together and juggled the beer and the pizza cartons while Finch got her wet clothes from the back of the van. “HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE ME OF SUCH ATROCITIES!” Somewhere in the trailer park, someone joined the conversation. “Shut the fuck up, assholes!” “Rude,” Eddie deadpanned and Finch dropped her boots laughing.

Back inside, Finch started to throw her wet clothes over the shower door while Eddie carried everything to his room. “Uhm, hey, babe?” he called from next door. “Yeah?” “Would you mind if I invited Max over for some pizza?” Eddie appeared in the bathroom door behind her. “Not sure she has been eating enough lately. Her mom had a rough couple of weeks.” “No, I don’t mind. There’s always room for another stray, right?” Eddie leaned in, kissed her cheek loudly and vanished around the corner. Finch smiled and wiped at her wet cheek. “God, you’re so precious…”

There was some shuffling and then a pause. “Mayfield! It’s Eddie —  Uhm, no, why would we scream outside? — Yeah of course that was irony — uh-hm —  No, we were just messing around, don’t worry —  uh-hm —  listen, we have pizza, do you want some? Still hot, I hope —- Yeah, just come over — You don’t have to bring anything, your delightful self will suffice — No really, we have two large pizza pies — Ok, see you in a bit.” Finch had moved to the living room mid-call and hopped to sit on the kitchen counter and pressed a kiss to Eddie’s head when he hung up the phone. “You’re a good man.” “I’m parting with a few slices of pizza, nobody will declare me a saint over that,” he moved between her legs and run his hands up her thighs. “You’re not usually rejecting flattery.” “And you’re talking too much…” Eddie moved close bit her bottom lip and held onto it for a moment. Then he licked the spot before he kissed her; open-mouthed, tongue finding hers. Finch moaned and held onto his shoulders, surprised by the sudden onslaught.

“Wha a’e yu d’in?” she asked, not quite willing to break the kiss. “I must be doing it wrong if you have to ask… let me try something else,” he brushed her hair off her shoulder and licked a long stripe up her neck. The attention went straight to her groin. “Eddie…”

The breath of his chuckle tickled on her wet skin, “I love it when you sound so turned on by so little.” “Max just stepped out her front door… why are you turning me on now?” “You started it.” Again, he licked into her mouth, holding her in place with his hand on her neck and the other one cupping her breast under her shirt. “I what…?” she whispered, head spinning. “Sulfur?” “Fucking hell, Munson… ” There was a knock on the door and Eddie smirked like the devil himself. ���Pull yourself together. We have a visitor.”  Eddie opened the door and spread his arms, “Maxine, my dear friend! Come in, come in, out of that ghastly weather into the cosy parlor!” Finch pressed her thighs together to snuff out the sparks he had just lit and grumbled over how Eddie just flicked the switch between horny tease and silly inn-keeper. The never-ending wonders of dating a top-tier Dungeon Master.  “Hi guys,” Max said, rolling her eyes at Eddie then bowed. “Thank you for the kind invitation to the feast, Eeedwaaaard.” “Okay, yeah, Max, alright, Max, very sorry, Max.” “I liked it,” Finch said and got off the counter. “You both sound very royal like that,” she offered and got two middle fingers in return.

3

“Remind me to never feed you again, Max.” Eddie pouted while Max and Finch not only high-fived but mocked him by popping olives into their mouths. Olives that they had picked off a slice of pizza that they then had trojan-horsed into his corner while he had been in the bathroom, to prove that he would not notice the difference. And he hadn’t. “Aww, sore loser?” “Uhm, yeah, you are corrupting my girlfriend to play tricks on me, I’m allowed to be sore about that.” Finch nudged Eddie’s leg with her foot, “I’ve been playing tricks on you on my own for the better of two years now.” “What?”

“We’ll feed you again, Max. Don’t worry–” “Excuse me?--” Eddie interjected but Max’s embarrassed face stopped him from making a scene. “Hey, what’s wrong?” “Nothing, it’s just…” she shook her head and waved her hands in the air as if the right words were there and she just had to catch them. “You don’t have to feel bad about this, alright?” “Yeah,” Eddie agreed, “We’ve all been there.” “I know,” Max said, eyes a little wet. “It’s still fucking shit, isn’t it?” After nothing but crumbs were left, Finch found Eddie in the kitchen as he tried to stuff too much cardboard into a too-full trashcan. “What about we play one or two rounds of cards or something? Her mom is out drunk on the sofa again.” “Yeah, sure,” he nodded and gave her a kiss. “You know where all the stuff is, let her choose something.” Eddie looked after her as she walked back to his room and let out a sigh. Helping Max out had become an almost daily occurrence now. Even Wayne had started noticing despite his schedule of mostly night shifts and he had started stacking some extra cans and boxes in their pantry. He would hand her some later when she left. She probably would protest and call him names but he knew she was grateful and that being prickly helped her cope with the situation so he didn’t mind. “Alright folks,” he cheered as he made his way back, “who is ready to get annihilated?”

—

Someone was shaking him and his whole body protested against the intrusion. “Eddie, wake up babe. Hey, Eds…” “Hmgrrmb, l’mme sl’p.” Soft laughter reached him, then again, “Come on, just a moment, you’ll be in so much pain tomorrow if you sleep like that and then I have to endure your whining all day.”

Eddie cracked an eye open. The small light was on and in fact, his neck already didn’t feel quite right. He sat up from where he had slouched against the wall, rubbing his face. “What’s going on? Where’s the carrot?” Finch immediately started rubbing circles into his back, fingers kneading the sore muscles in his neck and he groaned. “You fell asleep mid-game. Max just left a minute ago.” “Shit… wasn’t I winning?” “Yeah, three out of five, I guess you annihilated us.”

He couldn’t help but grin. “Good. Revenge for your horrible olive plot.” “You’re a menace,” Finch laughed, now massaging his shoulders with both hands. “You had a perfectly good pizza experience.” “I guess you’re right… if one can overlook the betrayal.” Eddie yawned and his eyes started to fall shut again. “This feels very good, Fin. But I think I’ll just pass out if you keep on…” he turned his head to her and gave her a kiss, missing the centre of her mouth by half. “I better go find my toothbrush before that happens.”

—

The mattress dipped, pulling Eddie out of sleep again. It was dark and his arm hit empty space as the tried to find Finch’s warm body. “Shit! Disappointing.” 

He managed to stay somewhat awake until the mattress dipped again and the blanket lifted. Eddie let out a sleepy sound that was something reminiscent of a welcome. “Sorry,” she whispered, “Didn’t mean to wake you.” She swiftly slid back under the covers and pressed her back into his chest, wiggling a little to perfectly slot into the space as Eddie reached out his arm again and this time wrapped it around a soft waist. He nuzzled his nose to the back of her head, smelling her hair, taking in her warmth and sighed. His hand started to move on instinct, sliding up the side of Finch’s body, bunching up the shirt she wore and back down to the thick of her thigh and all the way back up. Between the soft drizzle of the rain above them and the rustle of fabric, Finch let out a small moan and Eddie suddenly didn’t feel like sleeping anymore. “What time is it?” he asked, still stroking the length of Finch’s side softly. “Almost four.”

He hummed and slid his hand up her arm and over the curve of her shoulder, brushing strands of hair off her neck before shuffling down and kissing it. Gentle fingers found his cheek as he left a trail of soft kisses, whispering in between. “A good time to fuck.” Finch started to turn under his arm but he pressed a hand to her stomach and tutted: “Keep that pretty ass right where it is.” Shoving his hips forward, he raked his nails up her soft skin between her breasts and finally slid his palm up her throat, turning her head to him as far as her tendons would allow while pinching her chin between his thumb and index finger.

“I know that voice,” Finch breathed out between her restricted jaws while Eddie started to suck a bruise right under her ear, “you’re goin’ to wreck me, aren’t you?” Eddie’s cock twitched deliciously in his boxers. He shifted and slid his other arm underneath her to replace the hand on her throat while shoving the now free one straight down to her crotch, nestling it between the warm squeeze of her thighs. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” “Yeah,” she tried to nod. Her hands were clasped around his forearms, nails digging small half-moons into his skin. It hurt. Finch might look like a delicate creature most of the time, but she was stronger than her exterior let on and not at all helpless. The fact that she could knock him out if she wanted to, that he felt the soreness in his muscles flare up as they worked to keep her in place; it all drove him fucking nuts. “Yeah, what, little demon? Use your pretty mouth to tell me what you want.”

Finch ground her ass into his groin in lazy circles. He hadn’t moved a finger yet between her legs, just pressed the full length of his hand against her pussy. He could feel a wet patch seeping through the fabric that separated him from her. “I want you everywhere, I want you to give me all that you have and more and for you to fucking wreck me, Eddie– ahhh!” He had sunken his teeth into her neck, unable not to when she begged for him like that. “Did that hurt, hm?”

With an eerie speed, Finch dipped her chin, chasing for his hand and he heard her teeth click together as he pulled it away at the last moment. He chuckled deeply. “Unruly behaviour for someone who wants to get fucked so badly, don’t you think?” A punched-out moan escaped him as Finch angled her hips further back, putting tight friction on the tip of his already swollen cock. “But if you insist on having my fingers in your mouth,” he gritted out, thumb sliding over her bottom lip already greeting him with the tip of her tongue, “who am I to deny it to you?” Finch greedily sucked two of his fingers into her mouth and he used the moment to tilt her hips a little backwards, pull her panties to the side and slide two fingers between her slick and wet lips. She gasped and cursed around his knuckles and Eddie felt his cock leak sticky precome against his belly. “Hmmm, that’s right,” he hummed into her ear, “just the way you like it… I know what you need...” Circling her swollen clit, slow and dragging, kissing and nibbling on her neck, feeling her swallow hard under his lips; he drank in all her noises, every movement, the soft tongue sliding around his fingers. Eddie could drag this out forever. “You want a taste of yourself, little demon?” He could feel her nod. “Yeah? Then open your mouth for me…” Finch whined as he stopped touching her, turning into a moan when he replaced the fingers in her mouth with those coated in her wetness. Eddie had propped himself up on his elbow to watch her face but it was too dark and this wouldn’t do. He wanted to see her while she slowly lost it for him. He untangled himself from her without a warning and rolled over to the bedside table to turn on the lamp, then looked for something to throw over it to dim the light down. “Don’t move!”

But she wouldn’t be Finch if she didn’t challenge him even a little bit. While he was rummaging around on the floor, a hand crept to his cock, stroking him through the fabric, and teeth sunk into his shoulder. “You can’t just leave me unsupervised and expect me to behave… you know that… don’t you, Sulfur?”

“FUCK!” Eddie threw his head back and turned fast, pushing her back with the movement. He knew it was probably silly how much it turned him on when she called him that but it just fucking did and he didn’t care either way. Finch sat upright now, hair a tousled mess, deep red marks on her neck and shoulders, grey eyes defiant and full of lust and hunger for him. He grabbed a fist full of her shirt, shoved it over her head and proceeded to throw it halfway over the lamp behind him. When he turned back again, Finch had leaned back, knees bent and thighs spread wide, with one hand down her panties, touching herself. Eddie tilted his head and pursed his lips in a smile, speaking calmly despite his racing pulse. “Well, if you don’t need me, I can go back to sleep.”

“No, you couldn’t,” she bit her lip and Eddie could see her fingers speeding up. “You want me so bad.” Reaching out, he grabbed her by one ankle and pulled her to him. She thumped to her back and laughed as he groaned while unceremoniously pulling her panties off of her. It left a glistening wet streak on the inside of her thighs and he slid his thumbs all the way up along it while he parted her legs and came to kneel between them and without hesitation, plunged two fingers deep inside her all the way to his knuckles. Finch threw her head back, back arching as he set off at a furious pace. He grinned as her breath hitched a few times before she could let out a long deep moan. “What? Did I fuck the bratty air out of you, sweetheart? Oops.”

“Fu-huck- tha-t’s– go-od…” “You can still talk, though. That’s no good.” Shifting his weight, feeling the pull in his sore legs, Eddie leaned over her and pressed his lips to her panting mouth as soon as he started to curl his fingers up into the special soft spot. Finch jolted beneath him, muffled curses streaming directly into Eddie’s mouth. He pulled at her lip with his teeth and felt Finch’s hand slide between their bodies to give attention to her clit. He stopped and grabbed her wrist, licking the tangy wetness from her fingertips, then looked at her reproachfully. “Don’t you think that I would have taken care of that myself if I thought you already deserved it, hm?” “I’ll behave,” she panted, cheeks flushed bright red and gorgeous, “I promise– just don’t stop… please… ple–” Eddie had started to take off his boxers while she had made pretty promises and he grinned sultrily when the sight of his hard flushed cock made her forget her words. “Look,” he said, pushing his slick fist over his whole length, “how do you like it when I do this -- ah -- when clearly all you want to do is get your hands on me–” “And mouth–” Still grinning, he stroked himself slowly and nodded, “--but I’m doing aaall the nice things to myself and don’t leave any to you?”

When she didn’t respond immediately, he leaned down and firmly tapped her clit two times, making her jolt again. “Not fair,” she breathed. “What was that?” he cocked an ear. “Not fucking fair… Eddie, please let me taste you!” “No,” he smirked and started to lower himself to his stomach, “not today, babe.” Eddie saw on her face that there was protest lurking in her throat and he throbbed with the knowledge of how badly she wanted to suck his cock but he was nothing if not stubborn. When she realized what he was about to do, her eyes closed and she grabbed the sheets in anticipation. He thought of teasing her a little longer but so close to her swollen dripping pussy, being a menace was exceedingly hard. A vibrating moan slipped through her lips when he licked the first long stripe over her clit and combined with her taste, it was enough to drive him mad. He pushed his fingers back in, returning to the former merciless pace. The sting in his scalp was thrilling as she held onto his hair for dear life. Toying with her clit - licking, sucking, circling; all of it - and watching what it did to her was one of the hottest things he could think of. It was a special treat to fuck her when she was just short of unravelling, fully here and present with him, her racing mind blank, registering nothing in the world but him.

He had brought her to the edge two times and let her cool down again when she squeezed him with shaky thighs, reached down and cupped his cheeks between her legs. “Fuck me, please.” No snark, all sweet and spent. She kept her hands on his face as he started to crawl up her body to kiss her. “Are you good?” “Hmm-hmm, perfect,” she hummed with heavy eyes, brushing hair from his face that fell back into place immediately. Eddie pressed his cock to her slit and moved up and down. “Can you go one more time, hm?” “Three times is torture, Eddie…”

He chuckled and kissed her chin. “One more, Fin. And then I’ll make you come, promise… you can shatter aaall around me… doesn’t that sound good?” “Fuck,” she laughed, “you’re really selling this.” “I promise I will deliver,” he whispered into her ear between kissing up her jaw. “One more…” she pressed one finger to his lips and nose and he nodded, smiling softly.  Eddie sat back on his knees, hands splayed out on her thighs, pulling her closer and slid all the way inside of her in one fluid motion. The tight warmth was intoxicating, as was the way Finch lifted her hips to take him in even deeper as she made the prettiest noises. “You’re so sensitive, sweetheart. The way you moan for me.” he just twitched his hip a little, still deep inside her.

“Fuck-Jesus-Eddie–” “Nah, the dude is not my type and I’m busy here.” With a long groan, Eddie started to pull out slowly just to thrust back in fast; he found a rhythm and watched Finch’s eyes roll back as she finally fully let him take over. “Finch, Finch, Finch…” he chanted her name, while heat pooled inside his abdomen, “you’re s-so beautiful like– like that, how you take me.”

He lifted her right leg and leaned it against his chest, changing the angle and sunk his teeth into her calf with a grin. Finch pushed her palms into the mattress and herself halfway up, gasping, her pretty small tits jumping every time he drove into her. “E-Eddie… I… god… so good– I-I…” “I know,” he grunted, “you’re getting reeeally fucking tight now… just… a little… more… fuck!” The overwhelming sensation pushed him forward, and he caught himself with clenched fists before he could smack down on Finch’s body, pulling all the way out, drawing a frustrated moan out of both of them. He usually just stopped inside her, but he’d drawn it out for too long and suddenly had been very close to coming himself and he wasn’t going to do that to her now.

Eddie cowered over her, panting, focusing very hard on the muscles in his loins as Finch’s legs were pressed into his sides, warm and sweaty and trembling. Her hands found his face and laced together behind his neck. “C’mere… please.” Eddie followed her pull into a kiss that was slow and sloppy and sweet while her shaky hands roamed every bit of his skin she could reach. “Stay close now, yeah?” “Want to sit in my lap?” he panted against her cheek, then chuckled. “Won’t take long for either of us now.”

“You have to hold me,” her voice soft and needy and his chest felt tight with, well, fucking everything. “I’ll hold you, babe.” Eddie kissed her, thumb stroking her cheek, watching her eyes close, then flutter back open, “you can lean on me and I’ll fuck you good one more time.” “Are- are you good?” “Absolutely!” He beamed at her.

Finch shook her head slightly with heavy eyes and brushed hair off his forehead again. “You have the most gorgeous smile I’ve ever seen, Munson.” “You’re so cute and tame when you’re all fucked out, nobody would believe me.” She almost pouted, brows drawn together. “I say nice things about you all the time, pretty boy.”

“Pretty boy?” Eddie huffed a laugh and pushed himself back up, pulling Finch with him by her wrists. “You’re getting delirious.”

“Now that you say it, I really could use something to drink.”

Eddie turned and grabbed the water bottle from the nightstand. “Here, hydrate.” He positioned himself while she drank and stroked his aching dick a few times, really ready to come apart with her now. Finch climbed into his lap, balancing her weight on his thighs; he would be so sore tomorrow like he’d never been in his life. “Left you some,” she handed him the bottle and as he drank, reached down and let herself sink down on his cock with a long sigh.

“Shit,” Eddie spluttered, water running down his chin and their chests. He wiped his face with the back of his arm and looked into a hot, smirking face. “You already getting cocky again?” Finch ground her hips down, “Something cocky is going on, yeah.”

Eddie laughed, let the bottle just drop off the bed and wrapped his arms around her, pushing up inside her. “Goddamnit, I love you.” “Eddie…” she whined and sunk all the way down on him, “m’ gonna come right now if you do that…”

He steadied himself with a hand placed behind him and pulled her to his chest, holding a slow rhythm with his thrusts. “You like that?”, he said close to her ear, “Hearing that I love you while I’m buried inside you?” “Ohmygod…” Finch let her face sink to his shoulder, arms wrapped around his neck. “Because now that– oh fuck, Fin– you feel so good– because now that it’s out there, I’ve no qualms –ah— w-whatsoever to moan– it– into your ear.”

She bit his shoulder in response and he sped up his thrusts again; he would fucking explode any minute, he was sure of it. “Finch, babe?” he shifted a little, the arm around her gripping her tight while he shoved the other one between them down to find her clit. “Ye-ah- E-d-die?” her voice broke every time he pumped into her, hard.

“I love you.”

“Shitshitshit–please–please d-on’t stop…” “You g-gonna come with me?” Finch placed her palms on his chest and pushed herself up to look at him and the sight of her face alone almost did him in. She moved her hips with him, meeting him hard every time, mobilizing all energy she had left while starting to squeeze tight around him again.

“Come for me,” his breath came in short hard bursts, “m’ right behind you… oh holy f–” First her thighs started to tremble, then her hips twitched uncontrollably as she threw her head back, a scream locked in her throat unable to escape as she came hard, pulsing rapidly around him. Eddie looked at her in awe and complete ecstasy, not even feeling where her nails drew blood on his shoulders. She finally drew one deep, enormous breath and let it back out in the filthiest moan he’d ever heard and Eddie came too, hot white heat devouring him. He slumped forward, his face pressed to her heaving chest, barely hearing the quiet praises Finch spoke into the crown of his head as he rode it out. They stayed like this, tangled and close, until their breathing was even again. Finch ran her hands over his back in soothing circles until he was ready to let her go. His legs were killing him. “Want me to dismount? You’re trembling…” “Just the earthshattering orgasm, nothing to see here,” he pulled his face away from her chest, “but yes, please.” He flopped down on his back, arms spread out, feeling heavy and spent but also needy. The latter became apparent as Finch got out of bed and walked toward the door. “We’re you going?”

“Getting more water,” she bent down and gave him a kiss. “And going to the bathroom. We’re dripping down my thighs… like a lot.” Eddie groaned after her as she left the roam, “Stop the dirty talk please!”

“Never!”

He could still hear the rain on the roof and was aware of the sudden silence. There was something awful about being alone right after sex; he listened to the noises Finch made in the kitchen, then in the bathroom, to asses when she would be back. It made him almost feel anxious. “Finch!”

The toilet flushed and an eternity later, the door opened. “Finch? You coming back here or what?” “I’m here.” She got back into the bed, placing some stuff on the nightstand. Eddie held his arms out. “Come here.” “You okay?” He pulled her down to his chest and wrapped his arms around her, relaxing again when her warm weight settled where it belonged. “I’m now.” “Sorry, I didn’t think I was gone long.”

Eddie closed his eyes and waved one hand in the air. “I forgive you…”

He could feel her smile against his neck. “How very gracious of you, oh Edward the Needy.”

“Just… don’t fuckin’ do it again. Ever.” His voice was heavy and hard, tone and words missing the mark of a quippy comeback entirely. Something must have gotten into his eye because a little liquid pressed out the corners when he shut them tight. He felt Finch’s face turn up to him.

“I’m sorry, Eddie.”

Eddie pressed a hand to his forehead, trying to snap out of whatever was suddenly trying to push its way out of him by force. “I don’t know why I said it like that I—“

“Yeah, forget it,” Finch rose up to his eye level, brows drawn together, “we are not doing that again. You’re upset, don’t swallow it down.”

“Suuuch a stupid time to be upset about shit.”

Finch wiped her thumb over his cheek; more tears had escaped him. “You think?”

“You don’t?” he took her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.

“Do I think it’s a stupid time to be upset about being afraid to lose your girlfriend after a day like this? After fuck like this?”

He swallowed hard. “Terrified.”

“T’s not stupid. The blood must not have fully returned to your brain yet,” she smiled softly, worried eyes observing every twitch of his face. “I’m terrified too, you know?”

Eddie shook his head, “Tell me!”

“What I am scared of?”

“Please?”

“No,” she drew her brows together and shook her head. “But I can tell you what I am daydreaming about when you’re not around.”

“Fuck yeah. Please!” he smiled, sniffling a little.

Finch untangled herself from him and leaned over to the nightstand, turning around with a small bottle of the body oil she used in the evenings. “Get on your back.”

“What? Why?”

“You worked a long day. You’re in pain. Your muscles are twitching whenever you move your legs. Get on your back!”

Eddie pushed the blanket away and did as she told, spreading his legs as she moved in between them, sitting back on her shins. He was excited and overwhelmed and full of admiration as he silently watched a totally ruffled Finch coat her palms with the oil, the familiar and rich smell of bergamot and poppy surrounding him instantly, already calming him down a little.

“Our flat has one room,” she said palms rubbing together and eyes closed as if she was conjuring up an image. “I mean, except the kitchen of course,” she looked at him and smiled, “who wants to sleep in their kitchen, right?”

“Wouldn’t want that, no.” His voice was husky and he sighed when her warm palms gently run up his thighs. “Why one room?”

Her gaze was focused on his right leg where her thumbs rubbed small firm circles along the inside. “Because,” her eyes flicked up, “I like to lie in bed and watch you play the guitar on the couch in the mornings.”

Eddie groaned, his chest expanding with every word that added to the picture she was painting him and the sensation of her hands, slowly releasing the tension from his legs. This was already home.

“To firm?”

He shook his head and smiled. “What makes you think I could just sit there and play when you’re over there in bed?”

“Because you’re a strong-willed ambitioned musician who can come back to bed after he has tried out this new riff or that peculiar melodie. Plus, I have my best ideas in bed and you can  bounce lyrics that don’t feel quite right off of me.”

“Okay, I’m convinced. Go on.”

“Our books are all mixed together, no separate shelves or bullshit like that and— did that hurt or do you hate the idea?”

Eddie had winced as Finch worked her way up the most painful part of his thigh and it did hurt, but in a good way. “Nope, just really sore,” he pressed out through his teeth. “I like the idea, but if you want to sort them by color like you currently do we won’t find shit.”

“You get used to it, I promise.”

He wanted to cover her whole beautiful face with kisses. “That feels really good, babe. Thank you so fucking much.”

“You do the laundry—“

“Of course, I like my clothes the right size,” he chuckled.

“—Exactly my point - and I keep our plants alive.”

“We have plants? I like that.”

“Uh-huh, we need something to set off the dark walls,” she said, coating her palms in oil again to switch to his other leg, “we rescue them from the street or wherever people leave their half-dead failures. You can use your plant magic on the very bad ones.”

“Your desk is by the window?”

“Yes, and you have to put back my pencils after scribbling down spontaneous ideas in a haste or we’re going to get into fights and we only have one room so if you don’t want to sleep in the fucking kitchen—”

Eddie sat up, wrapped his arms around her waist and stopped her with a hungry burning kiss. Her hands came up to his chest, slick with oil as she sighed into his mouth. When he drew back, he pressed his forehead against hers.

“You really imagine stuff like that? You really mean that?”

A nod. “All the damn time. Do you?”

“Uhm,” he breathed deeply, “I— I have. But I tried not to, to make it hurt less when- if… sorry. You’re so sweet n’ I’m—“

“Honest.” There was no hurt in her voice, just a tinge of sadness. “What do you want?”

“That,” he blurted out, drawing back more to look at her. “I mean, shit, Fin. That was… just… I have no idea how.”

“You want to make it work?”

“So much.”

Finch shrugged - casually like when she’d told him that she loved him - as if the next thing she said was just the obvious. “Then we make it work. We figure it out.”

“Okay,” he grinned.

“Okay?”

“Let’s make it work.” Eddie let himself fall back, taking Finch with him, eliciting a little yep from her that made him chuckle. They just lay like that for a while until he felt heavy with nearing sleep.

“Seems like the storm is over,” Finch muttered sleepily against his chest.

“Hmm,” he agreed and kissed her hair. “T’ was a good one.”

#Eddie Munson x ofc #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson smut #somnambulic-thing