#but leading up to that I had Wanted to buy candles for ages

[forgetful-storyteller]

Sky:cotl was more addicting for me than genshin impact is and im. Not actually sure why that is? Like missing a good travelling spirit would make me irrationally upset no matter how hard I tried not to be so I'd have to be grinding for candles every day to be sure I'd have enough,, I'd have to play every day of a season because god forbid I miss an ult gift. Even the way the daily quests r done feels like its keeping u in the game longer than necessary bc like. Sky and genshin r very similar games in terms of how the daily quests work. They both have u get 4 quests and then go out into the world and do them, and then come back to the quest giver and redeem ur reward,, except w sky if ur quest is at the end of the map u have to go through the whole rest of the map to get there. And oh, well I might as well cr a little bit on the way. And then u spend an hour on what should be a 15 minute task max

#sep talks #it's also to do with how they get u to spend money I think #when u play genshin u Know they're trying to get u to spend money #every new character every difficult obstacle every single thing is there to try and convince u to spend money #in sky they try and act like the whole game Isn't just a money grab which is probably why I spent so much money on it #like. It's technically free to play #but is it really? Like is it?? #in genshin almost all the content is technically accessible if u don't spend any money save for like. 4 weapons #and some character skins #neither of which r the point of the game so its whatever. Ur experience is not affected by the lack of them #in sky half the content is locked behind the season pass. Sure it'll come back around eventually but god knows when that will be? #or if you'll have enough hearts/candles to get it #and sky is a game where half the fun is cosmetics!! It's a fancy dress up game!!! Sure they've added more stuff now but it is at its core a #fancy dress up game #so when half the cosmetics r behind the season pass it feels much less optional to buy it especially with the ults n stuff #I told myself when I first bought a cosmetic in sky (the witch hat) that I could buy cosmetics if I felt I really wanted them #but I could never ever buy candles #unsure why that was the limit I guess it felt like if I was having to buy in fame currency to have fun then I clearly had gone too far #and this was like a HARD boundary. I missed ts's I'd wanted for months or over a year #but leading up to that I had Wanted to buy candles for ages #and idk. I don't have that with genshin. Sometimes I get the urge to buy primos but it's not constant and its never more than like #vaguely entertaining the idea. In sky it was a serious consideration #idk. I'm not posting this to sound pretentious or tell anyone to stop playing or anything like that #I just think it's interesting that the actual gacha game is less addicting to me than sky:cotl #i think it's just. So much easier to not even worry abt buying currency on genshin when I Know its a gacha game. The point is for me to #spend money. But all the content is technically f2p so I'm going to play it f2p #sky doesn't advertise itself as a game u need to spend money on. It advertises itself as completely f2p #but u can spend a little money for a cosmetic <3 help the company <3 #so I DID because the fomo was just too strong to avoid it #anyway rant over bye

[marimoscorner]

Consumerism & Witchcraft

Written by Marimo (he/they)🌿

I’ve seen a turn for the better in some witchy spaces regarding consumerism in the past few years, but overall it still tends to be an issue for us as a community. I’ve decided to try and breakdown the pitfalls I’ve noticed in my own journey, in the hopes that it will inspire and assist others. I’ve also provided alternatives and ideas on how to make small changes in our practice to help us better protect the Earth, stick it to the failing system and still acquire our bits and bobs we love so dearly.

As always, I am no authority on any subject nor am I perfect—but we’re all learning as we go, so let’s dive right in 🌿

A Preface

There are some things that should be made entirely clear before we begin:

You are not a bad person for wanting an aesthetic

You are not a bad person for unknowingly falling into pitfalls. Only if you continue to purposefully do so after knowing better

You are not a bad person for consuming content/objects or for not always making the most sustainable decisions. At the end of the day, we can only control our small part of environmental impact, while the rest is left up to the major corporations that make more pollution than any of us ever will

You are only human. Show yourself some grace and understanding that the internet so lacks.

My Experience in Consumerist Hell

I have fallen victim many times to consumerism in witchcraft. Starting my journey at the ripe age of about ten years old and heavily in the broom closet, I was quickly drawn in by the shiny rocks, the brand new candles and scents, the promise of new tarot decks and pendulums and other fancy, shiny new equipment. I was consuming an online aesthetic along with my ideals, and it distracted me from starting my journey by learning well.

I began to spend my birthday and holiday money on the aesthetic of things. While, granted, I still did buy a few literary resources now and again from my local secondhand bookstore—I was stubbornly ignoring the sage advice to learn and understand first before diving in headfirst.

I purchased statues, crystals, too many tarot decks to use. I purchased osteomancy bones I later returned to the earth, for I had not done enough research to know that that animal was mine to practice with. I had a tankard full of incense sticks, and even a growing pile of books that would not be read. While I liked to consider myself crafty with my homemade Maypole and various hand-bound Grimoires, something was becoming apparent: this was all a distraction.

The aesthetic I was partaking in was providing me with a false sense of progress and practicality.

When I’d go to do a tarot reading, I’d become far too overwhelmed with choosing a deck to read in the first place. When making an offering to a deity, I’d feel pressured to also bolster the altars of all the other deities I’d set up, and with my wide pool, the connections felt muddy. Often times I’d be off-put on a project or spell because I knew I needed to film it and it needed to look nice.

In the long term, I don’t have many of these items today. I’ve sold and donated a vast breadth of them. Feeling overwhelmed costed me a few years retreat from my craft to recuperate. However, what has stuck with me is the knowledge I picked up along the way.

So, What’s the Issue? TL;DR

I’ve noticed a few issues here in making these mistakes myself.

Consumerism absolutely distracts you from learning and your craft

Overconsumption leads to environmental damage. If everyone hoarded supplies, there would not be enough to go around. And with what gets thrown away every year…it paints an ugly wound on the Earth

We damage our learning abilities by not allowing ourselves to be anything less than perfect

The need for aesthetic creates barriers to entry within the community and creates a divide of haves and have-nots

You won’t be able to truly follow your individual path if you are only consuming and not creating for yourself

Consumerist culture promotes appropriation. Metaphysical stores carry items from closed practices (such as white sage and palo santo, or coyote bones) because someone is buying them. Don’t be that person, and find alternatives relating to your own culture instead

Consumerism can influence your spiritual decisions based upon monetary inclinations (where some may sacrifice a quality ingredient over a higher quantity of a lower quality ingredient)

So, what can we do?

Firstly, I want to clarify that I am not against collecting, nor am I against maximalism or the beautiful visual aesthetic we carry as a community.

I am an artist a very visual person and understand the longing for a beautiful home and workspace. However, this aesthetic shouldn’t come at the cost of irresponsibly harming the Earth or another community.

Thus, I’ve compiled a list of small things that I will be incorporating into my practice to make it more mindful and sustainable. I hope that you’ll join me in a few of them.

Minimize Supplies. While I used to have a huge selection of stationary for my Grimoire, I now limit myself to a simple pencil and watercolor set if I’m feeling artistic. This helps me actually use my Grimoire for study, rather than to keep perfect. It’s also friendlier on my wallet!

Thrift Supplies. There are plenty of perfectly good items that get donated daily. You can get high-quality candles and holders, old crystal bowls for altar offerings, spare crafting supplies, fabric for alter cloths and even clothing if you so wish—all for a fraction of the cost new and while saving the planet just a little bit more. Hell, you can sometimes even find good silver!

Share Supplies with your Community. You can create a sort of barter system with other witches in your area. Perhaps you create a sigil for them, and they provide you with a candle spell. Play to your strengths and grow together!

Look for Creative Outlets. Do you really need to go buy an altar statue that’s been mass-produced? Or can you give your deity the personal gift of a drawing, painting or even hand-modeled or hand-carved rendition? This will also deepen your connection to your craft and your magic, and make it more meaningful and stronger. If you really like something, though, go for it!

If you aren’t the artistic sort, consider supporting an artist before going to a large company. While I haven’t purchased from them myself, Blagowood on Etsy has beautiful deity statues carved from wood by their small team in Ukraine for a comparable cost to the standard mass produced metal statues. I consider this extra labor of love going into these pieces and those of similar small companies to be much better energy for my practice. I myself may put out some art prints and other handmade supplies in the future, but I will likely spread them around my community first.

Try Secondhand Books. While not available in every area and further still not as available for witchcraft and occult books, you may strike luck! Not only are secondhand books less expensive, but you’ll be supporting a local business. That’s not to say you can’t buy firsthand books, but some searching around may be beneficial to the earth and to your wallet in the long run.

Be mindful of where you source supplies and decor. If you are a fan of taxidermy decor, make sure that you source cruelty free. Bats can practically never be sourced without cruelty, so if a shop carries them, I’d be mindful of their other specimens. The same goes for if a shop decides to forgo a culture’s wishes and carry supplies sacred to them, such as white sage or dreamcatchers. Supporting folks who turn a profit off of others’ suffering is not something many would wish to include energetically in their craft.

Search the Wild for Tools. Find sticks, flowers and other plants out in the forest. Learn how to rockhound in your area for crystals. Your craft will be more powerful the more connected it is to the land you are surrounded by. Be sure to reference guides for safety and legality!

Get Creative with Purposes. If you are having difficulty finding exactly what you need by thrifting or searching, make another tool multipurpose if it would do the job good enough. Find supplies that are easy to source and work as substitutes for other ingredients (ex. Quartz as a stand in for other stones)

Spend more time Doing. Go out into the woods (safely) and advance your connection to the earth instead of worrying over the perfect item for your collection. Your craft will benefit

At the end of the day, all of this is your decision. Take what you like, and leave what you don’t. Even if we don’t agree, I thank you for your time and open mind. I will continue updating about how I incorporate these steps, and I will also hopefully post more on witchy crafting in the future.

I wish you well, and hope you’ll decide to follow along on our journey!

#pagan #pagan witch #paganism #witchblr #witchcraft #marimo writes🌿

[foxgloveprincess]

My Heart is a Hollow Plain

Pairing: Pagan God Loki Laufeyson x Female Reader [First Person Narrator]

Summary: No one told you the price of living the life of which you’ve always dreamed.

Word Count: 6.1K

Warnings: UnBeta’d, Dark (Soft Dark), Medieval(ish) AU, Polytheistic/Pagan Beliefs, Gender Fluid Loki, Mythology, Dubious Consent (Non-Graphic Smut), Death, Yandere Vibes, Deals/Contract (oral), mentions of Servitude, Magic, Jealousy, Yearning, Possessiveness. Minors do not interact (18+).

A/N: Welcome back to the Avenger’s Pantheon. Here’s Loki’s story. If you’d like to check them out, there are stories for Tony (Drabble), Steve and Bucky, Dr. Strange, and the Maximoffs in this AU. Enjoy! 

Title from “Breath of Life” by Florence + the Machine

I love feedback, so go ahead and reblog if you want. However, I give no permission to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work on any third party website or app. Seeing my work posted anywhere beside my blog, my library blog, or my AO3 account (FoxglovePrincess) means it’s been stolen/plagiarized.

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age or if you are uncomfortable with the pairing, themes, dynamics, or warnings. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Thank you!

Candles flicker and drip. A cool breeze winds its way through the stones of the temple to circle my body. Knees aching, I complete my daily prayers and stand. I bow once more before the statue of the Widow and leave. 

The sun shines down on hills of gently dancing grasses. They brush along my fingers as I walk along the path leading to town. A cart passes with jugs of milk and wheels of cheese. I wave to the farmer and fall behind them. 

The market bustles, the cacophony drifting through the open air. I pause at the outskirts, bracing my mettle. Skirts clutched in my fists, I walk on. The crowd swallows me. Passersby jostle my shoulders and tread on my feet. Another body ignored. Quite invisible to those around me. 

My mother’s head sticks up above the rest, her hair piled atop her head and adding height to her figure. She laughs and chats with her customers, wrapping loaves of bread and sweets in a cloth for them. She always sneaks in something extra—a clever ploy to draw them back week after week to her stall. My father works behind her, hefting baskets of bread from our bakery to place for sale around her before disappearing inside again. Market days always bring us the most business. 

My name breaks through the noise. My mother’s hand in the air to beckon me closer. I raise mine in return and squeeze my way behind our table. She thrusts an apron to me and I tie it quickly about my waist. 

“You took too long with your prayers,” she chides. “Your sister’s had to go off to buy our cheese. Left me all alone.”

“Sorry, mother,” I reply, hands already working to count out coins for a customer. I look up to the handsome man and press a tentative smile. 

He bids my mother thanks and turns, figure disappearing into the crowd. No regard sent my way. The smile falls from my lips.

“Come along, then,” my mother says through the side of her mouth. “The morning’s just begun.” 

We sell out of bread and sweets just after the sun reaches its pinnacle in the sky. Temperance returns from her errands, picking up not only mother’s cheese but other necessities she knew we needed. Some candles, a few new jars, onions, carrots, and herbs. 

Father leaves to check his traps in the woods, hoping for a rabbit or even a squirrel. Mother begins to cook with what we have already. Her first seat taken after putting a pot over the fire to simmer. 

My sister leads me up to our rooms, above our bakery. Two straw mattresses laid on the floor, a thin wall separating us from our parents. My sister’s hand squeezes mine, a nervous tick. 

“I have news,” she says in a whisper. Our mother’s ears like those of a hound. Nothing escapes her. 

“What is it?” I ask in an equally quiet tone. 

“The gods have finally answered my prayers,” she whispers, almost forgetting herself with her excitement. 

I nod and prod her along with an inquisitive word or two. She leaves me waiting in suspense not one moment. 

“Matthew has proclaimed his love.” Her face beams so happy, I think it might crack like a delicate pot. “He wishes to marry me.”

I blink, stunned by such incredible news. My thoughts flit to my own prayers, left unheard by the gods. Loneliness my constant companion despite my yearning, my pleas, my offerings. 

Temperance clears her throat. I startle and blurt, “Congratulations, sister. I’m so happy for you.” 

Her smile dulls and she picks a piece of straw from within her mattress. “It does not seem it.”

“Of course I am,” I enthuse. “Mother and father will be, too.” I grasp her hand still in mine. 

“He says he will ask father for my hand any day now,” she says with a slight less fervor. 

“How wonderful,” I reply with the sunniest smile on my lips despite the torrent of jealousy swirling within my belly. “Your life has surely been blessed.”

She looks into my eyes. My younger sister always able to read my heart despite all my efforts to conceal it. Her hand squeezes mine. 

“The gods will bless you, too.”

My mother and father bake a grand cake for my sister and Matthew. Stacked at the top of the others, Temperance and her new husband barely manage to kiss over top it without all the cakes toppling. 

Our town fills the field behind our home with tables of food. As grand a feast as can be made. Roasted ducks and rabbits and boars, a dozen loaves of bread, jams and preserves, cooked vegetables galore—more food than I’ve ever seen in my life. I try each and every dish, despite the tuts from my mother’s tongue. My father drinks merrily, congratulations raining down upon him. 

The afternoon passes into the evening and mother bids me retire. I prepare for bed alone and sleep alone. The first time I have done so since my sister’s birth. My eyes meet the ceiling of our roof and I blink away tears. I don’t know why I’m crying, not exactly. Missing my sister, loneliness, jealousy. All three swirl through my head. 

I close my eyes and try to force myself to sleep—to little avail. Thoughts too loud in my head. Even as I hush them and focus. The creaks of my parents returning and the soothing night sounds just outside our window a boon, lulling me into rest. 

The day after Temperance’s wedding I awaken as early as I normally do. There are trenchers and loaves and buns to bake. But first, to pray and lay offerings. 

I take one of our lanterns and strike a flame outside our shop. Early morning light still slumbering behind the horizon. The familiar dirt of the road plods beneath my feet. The temple just outside of town upon our tallest hill. 

The steep climb challenges me in the low light. The trek back home always just a little easier. A cold breeze brushes past my shoulder. The flame flickers but does not falter. And neither do I. 

Mother and father always come to say their prayers after a hard day’s work. Yet I can’t begin my day without it. The darkness and solitude of the temple at this hour, it fills my soul. With the gods watching over just me for a moment, I feel seen. 

Under the oculus, the moon shines pale and dim. I keep my lantern lit by my side. Letting the faces of the gods remain shadowed. 

My fingers draw a familiar circle about me and the offering of blue iris and violets I have brought before they clasp together and I begin my prayer. The health of my family, my sister’s happiness, and, more selfishly, mine. 

“Why are you here at this hour?” a sonorous voice asks. 

Standing by the feet of the Horned Trickster, god of chaos and mischief, they stand. I cannot see their face to discern the line of their eye, but the hairs upon my arms and the back of my neck prickle. I do not leave my place, but my body recoils all the same. 

“Do you pray for the same things every day?” they ask, unbothered by my silence. “Health, happiness.” Their hand flicks through the air in a lazy swirl. “Tedium and droll.”

“I know not for what else I should pray,” I respond, spurred by their tempting tone. I gather my flowers in my lap, their stems breaking under my tight grip. 

“There is so much more,” they reply with a scoff, “to this world, to your pathetic existence, you need only ask for it.” 

My lips part in shock. The man steps out of the shadows into the candlelight, and finally I see his face. More handsome than any other man in the village. He leaves me speechless with the sharpness of his emerald eyes and the arch of his brow. Raven hair falls to his shoulders, resting upon the finest silks of his doublet.

“Tell me what you truly desire.” Standing mere inches from my knees resting on the stone floor, he tilts my chin with two of his lithe fingers. 

Meeting his gaze proves too intense. My eyes lower to his throat while thoughts whirl in my head. All of the things I have ever wanted. A marriage to a man who will love me for all my days. The fortune of kings. Recognition. Beauty. Praise. Power. 

A smirk pulls at the corner of his lip. “Oh yes,” he purrs. “I see it.” He crouches before me and rests his free hand on his knee. His fingers trace my chin to my cheeks, and back again. “What would you do to receive such bounty from the gods?”

“I—” The phrase poised on my tongue sticks in my mouth, like honey that seals my lips together. 

He hums in question, impatient for an answer. 

I swallow, a lump in my throat, and croak around it, “I would do anything?” Though it spills from my lips as a question, it rings with truth. Conviction stirring in my belly at the words. My eyes raise to meet his, scared of his judgement. 

He smiles and traces his fingers over my lips. “That is exactly what I thought.” He releases my face, though not the thrall he has cast over me. Enchanted by his looks as I am, I follow the movement of his hand as it snakes along my arm and grasps mine. 

He rises, bidding me to follow until we stand beneath the oculus. Hues of pinks and gold bathe over us, the sun rising without. I glance up, panicked by the passing time. 

“I must go,” I gasp, tugging from his grip. Yet he does not unhand me. 

He says not one word until I meet his eye. “I will provide all for you,” he says with a gentle squeeze of my hand. As though he were my lover making an eternal promise. My heart thunders in my ear. Light shines on his skin from above, a dazzling glow that washes him in divinity. “Commit only to me, and I will be your servant.” 

My mouth dries. I stand, stunned, before him. “Are you a god?” I whisper, head bent toward him to share such an abounding confidence. 

A smile curves his lips. “What is your answer?” he asks in turn, disregarding my own question. 

I stare into his grass green eyes, luminous and intense. Heat fills my cheeks. The sun continues to rise. The temple sits quiet. He waits, his hand trapping mine. 

“Where have you been?” my mother blusters, stacking loaves of bread behind our counter. 

The door to our bakery closes behind me with a soft click. “I’m sorry, mother,” I say, rushing to grab my apron and tie it about my waist. “My prayers took longer than I expected.”

“What could you possibly pray for?” 

The sting of mother’s words pierce my chest, but I do not say anything. “Every day, prayers and every day, late,” she mutters under her breath. “You awaken the gods too early.” 

Her finger wags in my direction as she turns and places her hands on her hips. Ready as ever to drone about her displeasure. But once she looks at me—really looks—she falls silent. Her lips part and she blinks. 

“What’s happened?” she asks, slowing into the motion of wiping her hands on her apron to rid them of flour. She steps closer and reaches to cup my cheek. “There’s something changed about you.” Though she whispers it like a secret, I hear her. 

Passing by windows in the town on my walk home from the temple, I glimpsed my reflection. To my eye, I saw no difference. The same plain face, the same soft body, the same clothes. And yet, the way my mother looks at me anew—as if there were something noticeable, remarkable. 

Blinking from her daze, she pats my cheek and turns away. 

“There should be buns ready in the ovens,” she says with a loving lilt to her voice, “go and fetch them from your father.”

I nod, silent, and turn to the back where the oven burns hot and fills the room with its warmth and the smell of fresh bread. Memories of spending winters curled beside the fire and ovens with my sister tucked next to me fill my head. My hand rests on the stone of the surrounding wall and I glance around to find my father. 

“Right there,” he grunts carrying a paddle of loaves over to cool. My father pays me little mind, but nods to the buns sitting off on a side table. 

“Thank you,” I say, grabbing the tray and carrying it out to mother. 

Mr. Fitz stands there with her, paying for a loaf of bread for his wife. He glances over at my entrance and smiles. 

“Good morning,” he says with a nod in my direction. 

I pause, stunned. So rare that customers take a moment to acknowledge me, let alone greet me. My mother whispers my name with a nudge to my side. It is enough to knock me from my frozen state and return the greeting. He doesn’t say more, collecting his loaf from my mother and his coins, before departing. 

“You must be more friendly,” my mother says, “or all your good looks will be for naught.” 

A smile threatens my lips. My mother’s favor of me extending only to the help I provide, never my countenance. That she reserved always for my sister—Temperance’s lovely smile and thoughtful spirit, true beauty shining out from within. A flutter of pride swells within me at her inadvertent praise. I agree with her quickly and return to work. 

The morning passes in joyful company. Customers pleasant and plentiful. Each one sends a greeting and smile my way. They ask after my health and my temperament. They meet my eye and compliment my sunny disposition. 

As the sun crests the top of the sky, Lord Grant Ward enters our bakery. A first for the local lord. His lordship usually more content to send out one of his many servants for such a menial errand. 

His figure stands tall in our doorway. I catch a glimpse of him from just beside the door to the front, loading the few remaining loaves into a basket with my father’s help. 

“I have heard such complimentary things about this bakery today,” he says, perusing our store with a skeptical eye. His toe scuffs across our floor. 

“My lord,” my mother greets, “we are grateful for your visit to our humble bakery. How may we serve you?” 

He looks down his nose at her and huffs a haughty breath. Not even a word of response. My eyes narrow, the heat of fury boiling through my veins. To dismiss my mother thus. I push the door open all the way and exit the back, sweat dotting my brow and basket under my arm. Ready to confront such discourtesy. 

“My lord,” I bite with as much respect I can muster—which is not much. “May I serve you?”

A glance in my direction, and he pauses. The skeptical tilt of his brow evens to one of curiosity and understanding at once. He steps forward toward our counter. 

“I believe you may,” he replies, tone honey sweet. “I wish to purchase all the goods you have remaining.” 

“My lord,” my mother blusters, “you are too generous.” 

He ignores her, eyes locked on my figure. His hand rustles at his belt, tugging away a pouch and handing it in our direction. 

“Will this suffice?” 

I bob in a curtsy and accept it. My mother hovers over my shoulder as I open the pursestrings and look inside. Coins glint up at me. My mother counts aloud but trails off. 

“My lord,” she says with a voice full of awe and respect, “it is surely too much.” 

“Then accept it as payment for the inconvenience of closing your shop early.” The lord waves his hand through the air. “Will that please you?” he asks in a lowered tone, directly to me. 

“Yes, my lord,” I reply, ire cooled but not entirely appeased. “How shall we deliver your goods to you?” 

He hums and steps closer, hand reaching to pluck at the fibers of my basket. “I shall send a cart with instructions. Will you meet them?” 

“Yes, my lord,” I say and take a step back. 

His brow quirks at my retreat, but he says nothing more. Merely nods in acceptance and bids us farewell. 

“To see that look in his eye as soon as I drew his attention toward me,” I explain. My light flickers at my feet beside the godly figures. “How insufferable. To treat my mother with disrespect.”

Fingers trail along the nape of my neck. I know them to be there, yet they have not revealed themself from the shadows. 

“Of course,” I continue in a more subdued tone, “he did send his cart. He collected every bit of our bread. Took what he wanted and gave the rest to the needy.” My own hand wipes the side of my face. “Perhaps I regard his character too quickly.”

“You were right to judge him as you did,” the voice soothes behind me. Different than before. 

Turning over my shoulder, I seek the visage of the god with whom I struck my deal. A figure emerges, softer, curvier. 

I bow my head in respect, sure I’ve been addressing a goddess in mistake. “Pardon my musings,” I rush, knees ready to collapse to the floor. “I misspoke.” 

Lithe fingers lift my chin. My eyes meet the emerald green of my patron, set in feminine features still as striking as before. 

“You make no mistake,” she says with a smile tilting her lips. “I am here, my sweeting.” 

My mouth forms around words I cannot speak. Enthralled by her still, I contemplate the change in her countenance and find myself unable to avert my gaze. 

“You should know the fleeting nature of my appearance,” she explains. “I take many forms. How like you this one?” 

“You are breathtaking,” I reply in a whisper. Clearing my throat from such bold speech, I reach into my pocket and withdraw the buttery raston and small jar of my mother’s plum preserves wrapped in cloth I have brought in offering. “To thank you, and reaffirm my vow of devotion to you.” 

She unwraps the parcel. Her smile widens. A wave of her hand and only the cloth remains. Its contents vanishing before my eyes. Cupping my cheeks in her hands, she presses a kiss to my forehead—a blessing. “Thank you, my darling. You will go to town and continue to enchant all who live there,” she instructs, thumb brushing the apple of my cheek, drinking in the soft breaths which pass my lips and the surety of my attention. Her gaze meets mine with a grim darkness. “But be wary of Lord Ward. He covets you for himself. And you…” she prompts. 

“I serve you.” 

My steps crunch through the underbrush of the forest. Unused to traversing such uneven ground, I walk slowly. Father’s back pains him. My mother stays in our bakery with the few loaves we made this morning. So I search through the woods for his traps, content for a moment away. Engaged with my own thoughts. My patron a shining beacon in the forethoughts of my mind. 

“Who dares to trespass on my land?” a voice booms through the trees. “Reveal yourself.”

My heart jumps in my chest and takes up a thundering beat. My hand clutches at my chest, though I cannot soothe myself. Careful movements carry me toward the sound of the voice. Yet one false step and my ankle twists. I yelp. The cold earth greets me as I fall and sounds of a hurried strides reach my ears.

“Who’s there?” Closer now, Lord Ward’s voice carries clearer. 

“I’m sorry, my lord,” I call back, knowing he approaches still. “I did not realize these were your lands.” 

He stops before me, the leather of his shoes black as night. I dare not cast my gaze up to catch his ire. Instead, I keep my head bowed in deference and pray for help. 

“You need not fall to the floor,” he says in an air of curiosity. 

“Yes, my lord,” I say. 

“Let me help you.” He offers a gloved hand. I eye it before meeting his gaze. 

“Thank you,” I accept and lean on his strength to help me rise. My lips seal against a whimper of pain and I shift my weight to rest upon my uninjured foot. 

“You are hurt,” he observes. Both of his hands offered to aid me. 

“I will be well, my lord,” I assure with a pat to my hands on my skirt to dispel the dirt and leaves clinging to my palms. “It is nothing.” 

He steps even closer still. My breath catches in my lungs. “Allow me to escort you home.” He speaks with such a gentle articulation, it sparks a flutter of my heart. If only he behaved thus upon our first meeting. 

“I thank you, my lord,” I say, picking my words carefully. “Though I must continue to my father’s traps. I fear I only have turned myself around. Forgive me for trespassing.” 

“You’re forgiven,” he says with a nod, “always.” 

I swallow and find I can meet his eye no more. Heat fills my cheeks, as if I labored too long beside the oven. I pat them with trembling fingers and cannot understand my lack of ease. 

“If you will not allow me to escort you, perhaps you might concede to one of my servants accompanying you?” 

“I would not wish to inconvenience them by taking them away from their chores, or you, my lord, in turn.” I step back, glancing over my shoulder as not to stumble and inflame my ankle further. 

“May I at least check to see if the bone is sound?” he asks, already lowering to one knee and offering his hands out for my foot. 

My teeth sink into my lower lip and I raise my injured leg, placing it into his grip. He tests the joint. Turning it one way and another. I wince, but do not draw away. The sooner I may satisfy the lord, the sooner I may return to my task. Once satisfied, he places my foot back to the ground and stands. 

“Be careful,” he commands, with a hint of a smile drawing his lip upward. “I will send a messenger this evening to ensure you make your way home safely.” 

“Thank you, my lord,” I say one final time before turning and limping away to continue my hunt. 

He calls my name one more time, but when I turn, he waits in silence before a last, “farewell.” As though he wishes to say more, yet something curbs his speech. 

I take my leave, slow and reluctant as curiosity nips at my heels. Though I may well have stayed with the lord and heard him out for all my victory. My father’s traps sit without any bounty. Empty. 

I sigh and sink to the ground. A moment of respite so my ankle may rest. My hands dig into the soft, decaying leaves of the forest floor. My head tilts to the sky. A breeze blows through the trees. 

Something wraps about my wrist. I jolt and lift my hand, ready to shake loose any impediment to its movement. Yet find a snake wound about it. Like a cuff, it sits just at my wrist, head raised to meet my eye. 

I freeze. The snakes of which I’ve heard bite their poor victims, leading to a painful death. I swallow hard and wait for the creature to slither on its way. It does not. 

“Please go,” I plead. 

Its head tilts. Its tongue flicks. It stays. 

I stare at it, slow movements turning my arm one way and another to take a better look at it. The shine of its scales, the intelligence in its eyes. 

“Please don’t bite me,” I whisper as I move, looking at its long body, content to perch upon my arm. 

Its head moves back to look at me. In the hush of the forest, the breeze ripples through the leaves. Birds chirp. But there is silence around us. A moment, looking into the creature’s eyes where the world around me dulls. 

“You are no ordinary snake,” I pronounce in soft tones. 

Its tongue flicks. It tickles my skin and I flinch from the unexpected sensation. Thoughts entangled with what sign this creature might bring. It’s relation to the gods. Stories of them and their familiars, their sacred animals. Only one holding snakes in their regard—the Horned Trickster.

“Send my regards to your master and mine,” I say, lowering my hand. 

Its muscles move, slithering toward the ground from my fingers. It disappears beneath leaves and between trunks. The sun shines down through the forest canopy, heading to its resting place beyond the horizon. The afternoon heat cooling on a breeze. I push myself to stand, gazing after the snake’s possible path. A sigh blows past my lips, hands brushing dirt away from my skirts. Shuffling carefully through the roots and foliage of the forest, I head home on much steadier feet. 

“I do not know how it happened,” I lament many weeks later. Head in hands, my mind struggles toward some semblance of understanding. 

My patron stands leaning against the statue of the Thunder Warrior, their gaze tilted toward the ceiling. I begin to pace before them, around in a circle, perplexed by the path of my life. 

“Lord Ward has called after me thrice now within the week.” My hand smooths over my hair, trying to help my thoughts remain in my head, and not floating away in a whirl of imaginings. 

“You think of him often, do you?” their bored tone comments. 

My brow furrows. I pause. “I suppose,” I reply. “Can one not when a man supposes to be so enamored?” 

“It is everything you wished?” they ask, though the way they say it—like they don’t need an answer. A harsh bite to their words upon which I do not dally.

Instead, I give them an answer, “It is what I prayed for. I cannot help the fondness that has grown within my heart.” 

A deep hiss rumbles from the shadows, filling the temple and rattling my bones. My hands jolt to cover my ears, teeth clenched shut against the grating sound. 

“Do not forget,” he says stepping from the shadows to reveal his form, his lip curled and brow set, “you’ve committed yourself to me in this life and the next. You will never marry. You are mine.” His eyes blaze with a barely suppressed rage, fiery and dark.

Stunned by his venom, I ask, “If I am not to marry, what use is the rest? I wish to be loved.” Tears prick at my eyes, distraught as his commandment settles within me. I am to be alone. Regarded by all—and loved by none. 

His fury cools, eyes piercing daggers in the low light. “You made your choice,” he states in a crisp, clear cadence, dispassionate and cold.

“I gave you my trust blindly,” I shriek in response. My hand grasps at the cloth of my bodice, grip tight and heart aching. I swallow a panicked sob. “How could you deceive me so? I have only ever done as you bid.” 

“Do you love him?” my patron asks, accusation sharp. Answering my distress with such little regard. 

Stutters of sound fall from my lips, none forming an answer. The weight of my mistake presses down upon my chest until I cannot breathe. So often my patron had been obliging and kind, the stab of this betrayal far too deep. A chasm opens in my chest and out of it, I speak. “My sister is married and thinks herself already with child. I wish for the same, and I—”

With one last look at the indifferent expression on my patron’s face, my heart shatters. Feet rush from the temple. The candle flickers in the dark, left behind as I dart into the night. Rain spatters across my cheeks, the slick of mud beneath my shoes. Though I do not hesitate, used to the path up the hill and the slightest hint of light on the horizon. Rushing, slipping steps carrying me down the slope. Hoping perhaps my folly might remain far behind at the feet of the gods. That I might escape, even to find myself returned to my previous unremarkable life. Until I reach the cross of the roads and pause. Skirts drenched from rain and weighed down with mud. Chest heaving, coughing in the damp air from exertion. Lost in my own thoughts, the steady approaching clip of horses’ hooves escapes my notice. 

Only the impact of their bodies and the tread of wheels over mine thrusts me back to the present. I lay on the ground, gasping for breath, pain ravaging every measure of me. My lips part to call upon my patron, a last plea, but find I cannot. The whisper of a final breath leaving my body and sending my soul along its path to the River. 

The waters lap at the sides of the boat in the dark. The Goddess of Death, Hela, stands behind me, oar in hand to push us along with the current across the river. 

“Do not touch the waves,” she cautions. The pole moves through the water. “They are full of forgotten memories from those who have crossed. A temptation, but one drop will turn you mad and bind you to its tide.” 

I recoil from the edge of the boat to sit upright. Gaze falling to my hands, lighter than air they sit in my lap, grey. No thoughts fill my head. Just silence, peace. 

Turning to the Goddess of Death, I ask, “do any memories remain to those who have died?”

“Only those that bring you comfort,” she says without a look toward me or any inflection of sympathy. 

A murmur of understanding passes from me, finding consolation in the honesty. Though I cannot place a reason for it. Already, my memories drift along the stream of the Gods Blood. Lost to me. 

The oar lifts from the river and rests against the side of her vessel. Her head tilts, gazing up at the eternal black sky above us. Her brow pinches in confusion. I follow the path of her eyes, but see nothing. 

A resounding hiss builds around us. The waves of the river grow larger, the boat rocking. The Goddess of Death holds out a hand to steady us upon the water. A displeased glare prominent on her features. Whispers of words drift around the boat, a fog rolling in from behind. Hela turns to slash a hand through it. Unable to make it disperse.

I cling to the bench of my seat, the dullest fear tickling the edges of my consciousness. But nothing more. Perhaps I should fear capsizing and madness, yet such emotions remain indistinct—a consequence of death, to be sure. 

In a moment, Hela turns to lash out at a perceived threat and a great appendage wraps about my waist. Warm and strong, it constricts, but I have no breath to halt nor bones to break. It lifts me into the air, shadowed by the darkness of night. I dangle limp and lifeless from its embrace, the prize of its hunt. Perhaps a monster of legend stealing away my soul for a meal. Another fate which engenders no true dread.

A cry chases our ascent into the dark sky. The echoing roar of the goddess’s outrage at losing one of her souls and failing her duty to take me across the Gods Blood. But we ascend regardless. 

My eyes close against the light that breaks through the dark clouds, blinded. We land upon solid earth. Flowers rising to greet my fingers, yet passing through like air. I cannot feel them. 

The appendage around my waist releases me for a hand, instead, to clasp mine. My eyes turn to the person beside me. Familiar, yet I cannot put name to the lovely, angular face. 

“My love,” they say, lithe finger tipping my chin toward them, “We are home.” 

They guide me through the doorway of the quaint cottage before us. Another familiarity I cannot place in the haze of my incomplete memories. 

The fire roars in its place. I step toward it, vague recollections of comfort tickling at the edges of my mind. I reach out to the licking flames, and feel no warmth. 

A hand wraps about mine, guiding me away. They squeeze, and the reassurance of the gesture surges through me. The fingers of my other hand settle on their wrist, petting along their skin up to their sleeves. The fabric of their garments silky under my fingertips. I catch their eye, questions forming on the tip of my tongue. Who are they? Why did they steal my soul? Why am I here?

“Now, my beauty,” they praise. Their lips brush a soft kiss to my forehead. My eyes flutter shut to drink in the sensation. “You will truly be mine.”

Such familiarity, I do not ken. Their face so imprinted upon my thoughts without any recognition. 

“I do not remember you,” I admit, staring into their emerald eyes and praying for some spark to ignite. 

“That does not matter,” they soothe, thumb rubbing over the back of my palm. “We will have eternity to know one another.”

And we do. Years passing outside the windows of my cottage. Buildings fall, crumbling to dust. Only one of them, a bakery down the road, filling me with any notion of regret as its owners cross the River and time creeps across its walls. 

Apart from it all, I watch. Drifting through the cottage, invisible to passersby. Though, even still, whispers reach me—haunted, they call my home. And they are not wrong. The world withers around me, and I remain, a shade bound to the cottage. 

Only one bringing me any solace, any relief. They enter the front door and greet me with a smile, their hands offering sensation, feeling. I grasp onto them, reluctant to release them for a moment of their visit. To return to the dullness of my existence without them. The nothing which awaits me upon their withdrawal. 

“Hello, my love,” they say. Their fingers tilt my chin and I meet them in a sweet kiss. My fingers pulse about their hand. We part and I let myself fall into the greedy hunger of their gaze. 

Their head dips again, lips seeking more. Which I give—again and again. A kiss which might steal my breath if I had any. Their passion a spark igniting between us. Their moans filling the room around us. My fingers sink into the muscle of their shoulders. Clinging to each sensation. I cannot let them go.

“Sweeting,” they gasp. Hands wander across my form until they hitch me into their arms, my body of no substance. ”Come with me.” Though they give me no true choice in the matter—as if I would refuse them and their constant touch.

They carry me to our bed, and set me upon it without once letting me go. Following me to the plush cushions and sheets, their body pins mine to the bed and the weight of it brings a contented sigh to my lips. They drink it in and pull back to meet my gaze.

As always, as I lay beneath them with their eyes shining bright and affectionate, they prompt, “You are…”

“Yours.” 

“Yes,” they purr and return their sweet lips to mine. 

Unable to grasp at the bedding beneath us, I let my hands clutch at them. Our bodies joining together in amorous undulation, seeking the divine thrill of ecstasy. Chasing that peak of my existence. When the world around me explodes in bright color and brilliance. When I feel alive and whole before it fades and I return to the numbness of my eternity.

They murmur words of love into my ears. The sweat of their body cooling them. A dull shine radiates from their skin. Their holy light, they once told me. Their head rests upon my breasts, their breath tickling across me. I swallow and let my fingers weave into the silky tresses of their hair, the world dimming by the second.

“Welcome home, Loki.” 

read more of The Avengers Pantheon at The Undone and the Divine

#loki x reader #loki laufesyon x reader #medieval au #mythology au #loki fanfic #loki fanfction #the avengers pantheon #dark #dark fic #polytheistic au #yandere vibes #dub con #tw dub con #heed the warning #18+ #minors dni

[rodeo-clowns]

Hi! I’m so happy your writing for Sarah Sanderson! Do you think you can write a thing about Sarah falling in love with the female reader… who’s apart of Becca’s friend group? Thank you!! :)

She's My Witch

Sarah Sanderson x fem!reader

A/N: Ty for requesting this, I hope it was to your satisfaction! I had to age up the character to 20 bc Becca and her friends are all 16 and I don’t think Sarah Sanderson should see 16-year-olds romantically even if she's from the 1600s. Sorry if this seems to drag on and if some things are exact to what happened, wrote this on my lunch break and I have a bad memory.  Also sorry this took so long my computer stopped working for a bit.

Word Count: This is 993 words, my biggest fanfic yet!

Warnings: Kissing, mentions of smut but nothing actually happens in the text, unproofread writing.

It was Halloween again, your favorite time of year. Not just because it was one of your best friend's birthdays, but because it meant that you could dress as spookily as you wanted and no one could say a thing, especially since you lived in Salem, Massachusetts. At this very moment, you were in Olde Salem Magic Shoppe looking for new crystals to buy when Becca and Izzy came into the shop. 

“Hey, guys!” You shouted, walking over to hug the birthday girl. You gave her a tight squeeze but noticed that she had a sad look on her face. “Oh no,” you said, turning to Izzy, “is she still upset over Cassie’s party?” Izzy looked at you with a look that said “duh!”

“We both are,” she sighed. 

“And so should you!” Becca said. You sighed, bringing them both in for a tight side hug. 

“Listen, guys…These kinds of things just happen, just wait until the party is over and she’ll realize that it was pointless to spend Halloween without you two.” You said, attempting to reassure them. That just made them look even more depressed. You sighed, “listen, I have to go feed my cats but I’ll be sure to stop by the woods just in time for our little yearly ritual!” That made them seem happy, knowing that you were still there for them. 

~That same night - the forbidden forest ~

You, Becca, and Izzy were sat in a triangle around a black candle. The full moon was out and you were starting to feel weirded out by the woods. You watch Becca light the candle and together, the three of you recite your usual birthday ritual. Once it's done you zone out, trying to not feel creeped out by being in the woods at night. You can hear Becca and Izzy bickering, something about the candle not blowing out. 

“Excuse me?” You say, “what do you mean the candle’s not blowing out just pour water on it!” Becca follows your instruction, pouring water on the unusual candle before it lights back up, leaving the three of you afraid. You blow it out quickly and begin packing up. The three of you walk a decent few steps before you hear beautiful singing. You start to run and before you know it, you run into three women. Becca and Izzy scream, but you stay mesmerized by the beautiful blonde woman on the left. Suddenly, you realize just who the three of you have run into.

“Holy shit!” You say. “It’s the Sanderson Sisters!

“Yeah, we gathered that!” Yelled Becca, slowly backing away, taking her hand in yours before sprinting away. You didn't make it very far before the sisters showed up in front of the three of you again. Already, they deduced that Becca and Izzy were teens, dismissing you. Well, not all of them dismissed you. The pretty blonde woman kept making eyes at you and even if she was kinda threatening to eat literal children's souls at the moment, you couldn't stop making them back.

You followed the girls as they lead the witches to the local Walgreens, tricking them into believing that skincare products were potions, watching as they gobbled them up. Eventually, they discovered that the three of you were lying and began chasing you around the Walgreens. You managed to escape without any of them noticing when suddenly a beautiful voice whispered in your ear, “where do you think you’re going?” You jumped. It was the blonde Sanderson sister! You recognized her as Sarah from all of your history lessons. 

“Uhh…Nowhere?” You said. She looked at you with a face of disbelief. You sighed.

“Look, please, just… don’t…harm my friends, I just wanna go home.” You said honestly. She looked at you with a teasing look. 

“I don't want your friends,” she said with a breathy tone, leaning in to whisper in your ear again “I want you.” She said, pulling back, smiling at you with a toothy grin. 

“M-Me?” You gasped. “Why?” You questioned. 

“You’re so beautiful why wouldn’t I want you?” She said like it was obvious. You blushed. 

“Wow uhh..Okay then,” you said, grabbing her hand. “You can come with me back to my place.” She seemed elated at that answer. 

“Oh we are going to have so so much fun!” she squealed, pulling you in for a kiss. You kissed back, the two of you entering a make-out session in the middle of the street. When you finally needed some air, you pulled back, smiling at her. 

“Come on.” You said. 

~The next morning~

You and Sarah spent the night together and falling absolutely in love with one another. At the end of the night, you ended up sleeping with each other, the two of you delighting in the bliss of being so close to someone so close to your heart. When you awoke the next day, she was gone. You got up sad and walked to Gilbert’s shop to start your shift. When you reached the door, it was unlocked. You shrugged and walked in to find Gilbert, Becca, Cassie, her boyfriend, and Izzy together standing there looking at you with expressions that read “What the actual fuck!” Confused, you shut the door behind you. “What?” You said, concerned that no one was speaking. Gilbert began to talk but Becca swiftly interrupted him. 

“Could you explain why when we did a summoning spell to bring Sarah Sanderson to the woods she arrived NAKED WHILE HOLDING HER CLOTHES TO HERSELF!?” she yelled. Your eyes widened comically. 

“I-I can explain I-” you stuttered, trying to think of a reasonable explanation when Gilbert began laughing, which prompted you to laugh as well. The girls looked horrified but you couldn't stop thinking of the beautiful blonde woman you spent the night with while crying laughing. You would never really forget her, even if you knew she was gone for good, your beautiful Sarah Sanderson. 

#sarah sanderson x reader #sarah sanderson #sarah sanderson x fem!reader #sarah sanderson x female!reader #hocus pocus #hocus pocus 2 #sanderson sisters #sarah sanderson imagine #sarah sanderson drabble #sarah sanderson blurb #sapphic #sapphic fanfic #lesbian #wlw #sapphic fanfiction #the sanderson sisters

[yuriko-mukami]

Christmas Date 2023 Continuation (from here)

An interaction between @ruki-mukami-dl & @yuriko-mukami

Yuriko lifted her gaze as Ruki wiped her tears, her cheeks heating up slightly even in the cold weather. It was a bit embarrassing how easily she got all teared up these days, but she simply couldn’t help it.

“Umh… yes, it is…” Yuriko blinked. She wrapped her arms around Ruki’s waist, enjoying the closeness they shared. “Oh… I will love it here for sure. I can’t wait to see everything.”

Entwining their fingers, Yuriko followed Ruki’s lead to the town. She had never visited a Christmas market before, but, of course, she knew how markets worked. There would be stalls, right? People would sell stuff.

But before they reached the marketplace, Yuriko allowed her gaze to wander. The buildings made her think about the Middle Ages in Europe. She didn’t know many facts about those times but she had read several books that happened in that part of the history. Surely, some things were as said in those. The streets were narrow and the cobblestones a bit bumpy under her feet. Some shops even had signs hanging above their doors and those swayed in the light wind that swooshed between the houses. The air brought many different aromas into Yuriko’s sensitive nose, making her think about baked goodies and spices but also wax candles, candies, and hot drinks.

Each step carried them closer to the clearance. People around them seemed to head toward the same place with beaming faces and chatting with each other. Yuriko noticed that she couldn’t understand a word of what was said. While that was to be expected, it still caught her off guard. For her whole life, she had never traveled abroad, so she had only heard tourists and TV people talking in different languages. But now, she couldn’t hear a single word being said in her native language.

Nevertheless, Yuriko’s steps were light. She would have dashed faster but Ruki’s warning rang in her head. She should remember that she wasn’t only responsible for herself now, but also for another life that depended on her completely. So, she kept roaming through the streets and breathed in the atmosphere surrounding them.

As they stepped into the Christmas market, Yuriko gasped, covering her mouth with her free hand. The lights were already glimmering, and she could only imagine how wonderful they would look later when the darkness settled. Right now, Yuriko stared and tried to see everything at the same time. The lights, the tree, and all the boots full of food, drinks, sweets, and handicrafts to buy.

Hearing Ruki, Yuriko peeked at him. “It’s the same as before?” When had been the last time Ruki had been here? He rarely talked about his past, and Yuriko didn’t want to pry, for she knew some things were too painful to talk about.

“Oh! I love it! I can’t wait to check every booth there is!” Yuriko giggled, pulling Ruki’s arm slightly. She leaped toward the first stall, glancing around. “Such cute mittens! And hats and scarves too! Everything looks so exotic and interesting! Did someone really make all these by hand? That’s so amazing!”

Yuriko took her time to check the booth after booth together with Ruki, taking in the view. This was really like stepping into a book. She leaned in, looking at bee wax candles more closely, and suddenly, her stomach let out a tiny grumble, making her cheeks flare up. She peeked around, hoping no one had heard the embarrassing sound.

@ruki-mukami-dl

#ruki mukami #ruki mukami dl #yuriko mukami #interactions #rukiko #godless verse #rukiko pregnancy #pregnancy tw

[alloftheimaginesblog]

Headcanons for surprising Eddie Munson with gifts/activities for his birthday...

He doesn't expect anything from you, he's never really been spoiled or anything so he truly doesn't expect you to get him anything besides maybe a beer.

Eddie doesn't really enjoy his birthday ever. To him it's just another day so he's never excited or anything... You vow to change that.

You've been saving up for his birthday for something close to two months. You don't have loads of money but you've got more than enough to treat him to some nice gifts and a day out.

You wake him up early and he's not happy about it... until you lead him into the living room and on the table there's some wrapped gifts for him.

"You got me these? For me? Are you sure?"

He can't believe it; can't believe you've willingly went out of your way to spend money on him.

It's like a child at Christmas. Wrapping paper ends up everywhere and he can't stop smiling.

"Are you serious?! I've been wanting one of these for ages! Fucking hell, Princess, you're spoiling me."

"(y/n), I- I can't accept these. This is far too much... Are you sure? Like absolutely one hundred percent sure?"

He gives you the biggest cuddle afterwards. He tries to tell you how much it means to him but he's never been great with words so instead, he tries to make you understand through squeezing you tight in a hug, pressing kisses to anywhere he can.

The surprises don't end there. You tell him that you're going to buy him lunch and you'll spend the day in the arcade, your treat.

He's buzzing. He's like a hyperactive child who's eaten way too much candy. He's bouncing about super excited, non-stop rambling. It's the one day he doesn't mind being woken up early.

He tries to pay for lunch but you insist and he presses a kiss to your temple.

"I feel like a King today. Thank you."

At the arcades he's buzzing about, attention fleeting from game to game. It's hilarious to watch him actually. He's got free reign over the arcade and yet can't settle at a machine for longer than a minute.

At the end of the night after having ice cream, you go back to his trailer where you've got a cake ready for him.

"I don't think I've ever had a birthday cake before you know."

You video the whole song of you singing, him laughing and clapping, before he blows out the candles. His smile is so perfect, so happy and you want that image of him with the crooked birthday hat on smiling ingrained in your brain forever.

He's so appreciative of everything you've done for him. He tackles you onto the bed with cuddles and kisses galore.

"Let me make it up to you, Princess... Show you how thankful I am for you..."

#headcanon prompt #headcanon #prompt #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things #st #st imagine

[mercurygray]

Was feeling frisky this morning and @junojelli said something about Vampire Joan, and. Yeah.

It's really too easy, finding a meal.

The same tricks that worked in Washington still work here - a little bit of lipstick and a pretty blouse in a bar, leaning over, just a little charm for effect. "Buy a girl a drink, soldier?"

And it works every time, just like it has for centuries. Ages pass, wars come and go - but men are still blindingly obvious. It used to make her feel powerful, being able to bend men to her will like that, but time and age have taught her better. He'll buy her the drink, and then maybe another, watching her over the top of his own glass as she giggles and grins and finally consents to find 'somewhere more quiet.'

He never knows that she's been watching him the whole time, the drunkenness an act. In the morning he'll think it was a dream - the headache and tiredness will pass much like a hangover. There will be no memory of the dark alley, the cold of the wall, the feeling of her body beneath his hands, her lips on his lips…her teeth on his neck.

Kings and princes, beggars and fools - blood is blood and it still runs red. She drinks just enough to feel sated and leaves the man where he lies, buttoning her charm back in as she walks back to barracks. That's her true power, now - to remain unremarkable, even when she'd like to shine. No amount of practice will ever make it all go away, of course, but with it muted she can almost trust that men like her as she is.

It's easier to control herself when she's full. When she's hungry everything starts escaping, her whole body looking for the easiest route to her next meal. The trick is not to let herself get ravenous, because if she does every kind of hunger she possesses will come out -- and she hungers in particular for him.

"Why him?" Lew asks, one day after field exercises.

"Why who?"

"You know full well who," her friend responds with a scoff. "When he looks at you, you go…flat, somehow. Like you're trying not to be noticed."

He's not wrong - she does do that, become more conscious of her power. "He reminds me of someone I used to know," Joan says, recalling the smell of wool, the strike of flint on steel and the consuming of a candle flame, the lines by Rilke - A young knight comes into my mind, as in some old, old saying. He came. Thus comes the storm to bind you in its mantle, all entwined. They are not the same man, but they are close - the way he half-smiles when something frustrates him, the color of his eyes. In a past life he's lead men before, and it shows - command comes naturally to him. And she wants him, desperately, not just to drink, but to know, to have him drain the depths of her. But not because she charmed him. She can charm anyone.

"A lover?" Well, how can she hide from that? She nods. Trust Lew to get right to the bottom of things. Lew's really the only person who knows - the only person who noticed. (He had strange friends, at Yale - was known to run with the set who liked to try new things, was willing to take risks.) But her secret is safe with him - We're going to war. Why would I give up on six hundred years of experience? "Show me," he says. "Show me how he saw you."

Joan looks at Lew, feeling the pang of it. She's lived this double life for so long that it feels dangerous, to let down all her guards and let her power out. She fixes her eye on him and exhales.

She can see the change in him immediately - the way his eyes widen, his breathing hitches, heart-rate picks up. He sits up a little straighter in his chair, and she notices even his smell has changed, desire seeping out of every pore. "Fuck me, Joanie. Who says no like that?" And she knows, all too well, that he means it literally - a neck is easier to bite when it's naked and in bed.

"No one," she says, and reins it all back in, flattening herself, as he so eloquently put it. She watches his eyes return to normal, although his pulse is still up, the desire still real. "I don't want that for him."

Lew laughs, still a little breathless. "I hate to tell you, Joanie, but you're still pretty without your vampire tricks. I'll just have to work on making sure he sees."

#i have written a thing #mercurygraypresents #vampire au #joan warren #fun with dick and joan

[bookish-monster]

RECOMMENDATION

Bees and Honey: A Swamp Monster Love Story

by Victoria Weyland

Storygraph Link contains info such as publication date, number of pages, community-created content warnings, and more.

This review has also been published in the May 2023 edition of the wonderful @monstermag (which you should definitely check out if you're a fan of monster romance; download past editions here)

Bees and Honey: A Swamp Monster Love Story is a fun little novella set in modern, rural Louisiana—specifically, it’s set in a very real place known as Honey Island Swamp, which is (according to Google) one of the least-altered river swamps in modern America. It has seen very little real estate development or other construction. It’s a wilderness that has been only lightly touched by humanity, and the fictional characters that populate it in this novella want to keep it that way!

Our story focuses on Heather, a born-and-raised Southerner who moved to Honey Island Swamp after a disastrous breakup that sent her life into a tailspin. She pulled an apiary (bee farm) up from the ground and built a business as a beekeeper selling honey and candles to the locals. Now, however, her home and business are threatened by McMasters, a white city slicker who wants to buy her and her neighbors’ properties and turn them into country clubs and homes for rich people. Heather is angry. Heather is more than angry, actually—she’s furious. But her helpless rage is turned into something much more actionable when she meets Honey, the ageless reptilian guardian of Honey Island Swamp.

I really enjoyed this story and consumed it in a single sitting! Weyland is a great storyteller with approachable prose and a writing style that’s easy to settle into and enjoy. I liked all of the Southern mannerisms and terms of speech that she peppered into Bees and Honey, and how she and her protagonist share a clear love for the flora and fauna of Louisiana. There are some nods to the realities of living in the Deep South—Heather’s neighbors, an aging, interracial gay couple, aren’t exactly welcome at the local church events—but overall, Bees and Honey focuses on the sweeter things in life such as community, friendship, and love.

This book is very LGBT+ positive, too, which is always great to see. Heather, upon meeting the swamp monster known as Honey, asks for his pronouns, which he gives her without fuss. Heather herself uses the pansexual label. 

And let me just say that I loved Honey. He came across as extremely masculine and sexy without veering into the realm of toxic masculinity at all, which was a relief—all too often with traditional human romances, the male lead is a complete dick and I end up wishing the heroine got together with someone nicer. Not so with Honey! He asks permission for various acts during a sex scene with Heather, and doesn’t attempt to take away her autonomy or control her life and happiness in any way. 

The plot with McMasters getting his comeuppance is very satisfying. If you live in a rural area that is undergoing rapid urban development the way I do, you will sympathize with Heather, Bubs, Cliff, and the rest of the fictional residents of Honey island Swamp. McMasters is an (unfortunately slight) exaggeration of an all too real breed of rich white landowners who use scare tactics to bully poor folks into selling their land, and it felt good to read about him losing his war to turn Honey Island Swamp into a playground for rich people with more money than sense. 

Lastly, I loved the Bee Facts™ that Weyland sprinkled throughout the story. They’re funny as well as educational, and as each is generally 1-2 sentences long they don’t distract from the story itself. Overall, I’d definitely recommend Bees and Honey: A Swamp Monster Love Story. It was a great way to spend an evening and I enjoyed Honey and Heather wholeheartedly. They had a bee-utiful romance and I’m very excited to read more of Weyland’s work!

buy the book on Amazon Kindle (US)

#monster lover #monster romance #terato #swamp monster #book lover #monster smut #bookblr #book recommendations #human x monster

[chouxtranslations]

Shizun 017 - Job at the door

The next day, Lu Yunzhen woke up feeling refreshed. 

Ever since he turned down Mo Changkong’s original offer of waiting on him every morning and evening, Mo Changkong has figured out other ways to serve his Shizun. Every morning he would line up at the supermarket to buy discount eggs (a little over 2 yuan for half a kilo, limit 2 kilo per customer). It was great for making tea eggs, omlettes, scrambled eggs, and egg dumplings, the only issue is that it’s not quite enough food… 

And now, Jin Yunu is here. 

Mo Changkong took out an enchanted umbrella made of shade beast hide from his seed space, which can stop sun damage for creasures such as skin painting demons, so that he could do chores during the day. 

Shade beasts went extinct ages ago, there aren’t many of these umbrellas left in the world…

Jin Yunu was touched to the point of tears and was ready to spill his organs, whatever Mo Changkong wanted. 

Thus, Mo Changkong took him to buy eggs together, even telling Jin Yunu to switch to different skins in the washroom so he can line up a few more times…. 

The two of them returned home loaded with discount eggs. 

Lu Yunzhen had finished washing up by then and was very happy at the harvest. After asking everyone for their opinions he went to the kitchen and made a massive batch of crepes. 

Everyone was very full. 

Lu Yunzhen has also left the small funk he was in the day before. It was unfortunate that he asked for little money for capturing a skin painting demon and left a lot on the table, but being a person means to be solid. He’s a stem major, how could he rely on the supernatural to make money? 

The most important thing is, he thought it through. 

He’s met three evil spirits in his 20 years of life, and he was only paid once! If he counted on exorcisms to make a living he’d starve even if he charged 5 figures each time! 

“We can’t take wicked shortcuts, to study well is the righteous path.” The Wujian Peak sect leader announced to his disciple and servant. “I’m going to talk to my advisor to see if there’s any projects I can work on, get more experience, get a good job after I graduate, and work from 9 to 9 as a code money. A 5 figure monthly salary isn’t a dream!” 

There were a few people he knew from the program who have 7 figure yearly salaries now. They’re all winners at life and it’s so inspiring! 

He’s going to use his own hard working hands and lead his household to prosperity! 

Mo Changkong applauded seriously, “Shizun is correct.” 

Jin Yunu had lived in wealthy households and has seen extravance. He looked at the previous treasure in his hands, then the countless spirit stones in the house, and only felt confused… He felt like the sect leader had some rather strange goals… is this some special godly way of cultivating? 

Mo Changkong glanced at him coldly. 

Jin Yunu knew his place and didn’t dare to disagree. He immediately clapped, “That’s wonderful, sect leader! This one has benefitted so much from you wisdom it was worth 10 years of study!” 

Lu Yunzhen was practically floating from all the praise. 

Jin Yunu respectfully walked his sect leader and master to the school, then stayed at home to clean up, absorb some spiritual power, and light himself a little scented candle for a snack. 

It was a wonderful little life. 

…

Lu Yunzhen has great grades and has studied a lot of stuff on the side to help with his post graduation job hunt. He can do most types of code money jobs. 

However, programming jobs are often outsourced to an outsources. By the time it gets to a student they turn into hard work for little money. Not to mention there are many monks for very little gruel, and everyone has to fight for it. 

Things like app development requires time and resources, and success depends on luck. 

Heh, intangible things such as luck… 

Lu Yunzhen is the kind of person could get water stuck on his teeth. He gets a stomach ache every time he has a test and has been forced to be the kind of person who puts a medical kit in his backpack whenever he has an important test. 

All of his advisor’s projects were already gobbled up by his upper classmen, and the few suitable jobs online were also grabbed in a blink. 

Lu Yunzhen posted in his class group chat and in friend circles, saying that he wanted to take a computer related job. He was very personable and everyone happily agreed to keep an eye out for him. 

2 classes passed by in a blink. 

During the break, Luo Xiaopang squeezed in by Lu Yunzhen’s side and patted him on the shoulder. “Hey, you honour student. Why do you keep looking out and laughing like an idiot today?” 

Lu Yunzhen replied, “I’m looking at my friend.” 

Mo Changkong had followed him to school and was sitting underneath the gingko tree outside the window. He had worn a baseball cap and was playing games on Jin Yunu’s phone. Weirdly, even though he’s so eye catching no one passing by seemed to notice him. 

Luo Xiaopang followed his gaze out but there was nothing underneath the tree. There were a group of cute girls practicing cheerleading on the nearby field though, they seemed very energetic. 

He grinned and shoved at Lu Yunzhen, “Bro, look at your face. Do you have a crush?” 

Lu Yunzhen was a face full of confusion, “What?” 

Mo Changkong saw that Shizun had noticed him and walked over to explain. “Is something the matter, Shizun? I was worried about causing trouble and used a camouflage spell.” 

Luo Xiaopang couldn’t see him and kept on asking. “Yunzhen, which girl are you looking at? The one in blue? Aiya, she fell.” 

Lu Yunzhen didn’t know how to explain, so he just played possum. 

Luo Xiaopang kept giggling. 

Mo Changkong pushed down the boiling flames of jealousy and asked with an awful look, “Shizun… has someone he fancies?” 

Lu Yunzhen felt his heart get hairy from the terrifying stare and immediately explained. “No.” 

“No what?” Luo Xiaopang saw his bro was strangely nervous and thought he figured things out. He kept on joking around. “If you’re not looking at the girls, then are you looking at a guy? I heard from Liao xuejie that…” 

There was a bunch of track and field students sweating on the sports field. 

Luo Xiaopang’s joke has gone too far. 

“What are you saying? Do you still want to copy my homework?!” Lu Yunzhen was so embarrassed he was getting mad. He ignored the look on Mo Changkong’s face and strongly slapped Luo XIaopang on the back of the head, scolding, “Don’t start nonsense with Liao xuejie. She draws danmei comics and is looking for material everywhere. She even started shipping the two tomcats at the school and it’s even popular online…. How could I like men?!” 

Just because he doesn’t have a girlfriend it doesn’t mean he’s looking for a boyfriend! 

“Zhen bro, my bad.” Luo Xiaopang immediately pleaded for mercy. “You’re as straight as steel, you only like women, and those with a tough life at that!” 

Lu Yunzhen hit him two more times and then let him go. But then he turned around and saw that Mo Changkong was looking even worse. His eyes were almost filled with despair, as if he was about to eat someone in the next second…

What happened? 

Lu Yunzhen was panicking, he combed over what was just said but couldn’t figure out what’s wrong. In the end he waited for Luo Xiaopang to start playing his game and quietly asked, “You… don’t like having a Shiniang?” 

Mo Changkong took a deep breath, “No.” 

Lu Yunzhen panicked even more, explaining, “There’s no girl I like.” 

“That is fine.” Mo Changkong pushed out a terrifying smile while gritting his teeth. “I have improved myself, I won’t do bad things or hinder Shizun’s feelings anymore. Shizun can like whoever he likes, there is no need to worry about this disciple…” 

Lu Yunzhen is panicking more and more. 

He felt like a little frog that was being stared at by a giant python. Something bad might happen if he kept on saying the wrong answer but he thought until his head broke and couldn’t figure out what’s the right answer. 

Mo Changkong noticed that his suppressed evil nature was trying to come out again, with images of the school being destroyed flashing in his brain. Again and again, he harshly pushed the thought down. 

The bloody aura of the world ending demon was slowly flowing out. 

Lu Yunzhen got a flash of inspiration. “Don’t worry, when I look for a partner I’ll get your approval first! If you don’t like it then I’ll be single!” 

The bloody aura stopped. 

The terrifying feeling of oppression disappeared like it was nothing. The sky was blue, the clouds were white, nothing happened at all… 

Mo Changkong asked quietly, “That’s not appropriate, is it?” 

“It’s right.” Lu Yunzhen finally understood and answered honestly. “You’re my disciple from my previous life and a member of the family. If we’re adding people to the household how could this teacher not consider your opinions?” 

SIngle parents looking for relationships have to think about their children! Even more so if it’s a demon with a strange personality who’s not used to other people!

Mo Changkong was finally satisfied and went back to playing his game under the tree. 

Lu Yunzhen looked at his cheerful silhouette and felt deeply once more… He probably had no chance of getting married this life… 

He thought about how to explain at his grandpa’s grave that he took in a demon disciple and thus has to stay single and not get a granddaughter in law for him. 

Grandpa’s a good guy, he’ll understand, right? 

While he was thinking all that nonsense he heard cursing from his classmates. 

“Fuck! The server died again!” 

“What broken game is this?! It keeps dying!?” 

“We should use the devs as human sacrifice!” 

“I could program better than them with my feet!” 

“...” 

Lu Yunzhen rubbernecked a bit and saw that it was the game named Hero that Mo Changkong was playing the previous day. The game was well made with fun mechanics, and the beta was super hyped. A lot of classmates had been talking about it lately. 

But, the backend quality didn’t match the game contents at all, with the connectivity and saving issues. The game company kept issuing maintenance notices, causing the players to curse at them. 

Lu Yunzhen didn’t play games and didn’t care. He kept on looking for new jobs. 

Suddenly, Long Jingtian sent him a message on wechat. “Master Lu, are you there?” 

Lu Yunzhen replied, “Yes.” 

Long Jingtian carefully asked, “I saw your friend circle post, it seems like you want a job involving computers?” 

After the demon incident, he was scolded many times by his father. His father said that Master Lu is a hidden taoist with great morals, that meeting him was the kind of fortune that would make smoke come out of his ancestors. He had to maintain a good relationship with the master, otherwise he had no shot at a lambo. 

Long Jingtian had no idea how to deal with sects, not to mention he didn’t have a phone number or address, only a weibo account. He asked his friends and everyone had the same suggestion: find another case, invite the master out, and build the relationship. 

Thus, Long Jingtian spent day and night sending out the same message in dozens of groups. “Has anyone gotten hit with bad luck lately? Come find me!” 

Ignoring all the joking around in the groups, everyone knows that the Long family was very rich and there was still a lot of people who wants to suck up to him. After asking for more details they looked for all sorts of ways to find an incident. 

There’s power to a crowd. 

In the end, they finally found it…

Long Jingtian asked, “Master, do you know about servers? I have an issue related to that.”

Lu Yunzhen was excited, “I know!” 

Let it be website building, server management, code writing, bug fixing, or system security, he knew it all. Whenever there was a contest at school he always won some kind of prize. His only problem was that he had bad luck and few chances to show off. If a fuerdai like Longjingtian brought him a job that means there’s no middleman and he could make a lot! And build his reputation at that! 

Long Jingtian said, “I have a middleschool classmate whose family has been making games. But the server keeps having problems and they just can’t seem to fix it. She wanted to invite Master Lu for an exorcism.” 

“...” 

He wanted to block this moron. 

#shizun #feng yu nie

[idkmybffjillyy]

Swanfire Month 2022 - Day 26 - Going Home fake memories

I've thought for a while now that based on the show's own description of the rules of the curse and reversing it, the end of Going Home should've been Emma and Henry in the yellow bug, with Neal, August, and Hook squished together in the backseat - since none of them we under the original curse.

i have a lot of in-cohesive thoughts for how to fit false memories into that version so enjoy my ramblings - because while emma kept her real memories up until henry's birth - if the same were true for neal and august then they'd have knowledge of enchanted forest and that there's a curse, and neal would have memories of hook - so all those memories get replaced with 'non-magic AU' versions of their lives(?). if anything emma and henrys memories are the same as canon except (on a similar timeline to when he showed up in their lives in s2) neal re-entered their lives and reconciled. they never got married though but definitely in a long term relationship once they work through their issues. emma, neal, and henry all live in that same apartment together. part of the rationale on regina's part would be (in headcanon) fake memories she gave to emma may have been real memories of regina's (as a single parent to henry) - so she doesn't have as much to give neal, and in part (in my fanon) regina and neal have had multiple one on one interactions and talked about henry, talked about regrets , come to mutual understanding/respect, and 'would you do it over differently' & he even though he would want to be there for emma and henry all of those years, he's the type of person who doesn't want to re-do the past (eg rejecting rumples offer to be a boy again) & who doesn't want to forgive himself for his mistakes so easily but rather earn his way back to emma and to henry.

what helps work through issues is august formally introducing himself to emma and explaining why he orchestrated her going to jail (...something they doesnt involve a curse???, but does involve him thinking he knows/knowing where their birth parents (snow, charming, gepetto) are. when they track down the lead over some years, it turns out they've since died so part of the "happy memories" is getting some closure on. and tracking down that lead is the reason they'd left boston and ew york and thailand to go to maine and why they were all in the car together. neal retains his memories of his time in new york pre-s2 and goes back to his same job or gets a similar one (since he probably stopped showing up with little to no notice and went off the grid). there's at least one friend of acquaintance of neal's who doesn't fully buy the story that tamara drove up to maine after neal, had some blowout fight and ran off with her side piece to live on an island somewhere (the same week he reconnects with the one that got away and his long lost son??) - and keeps up on the local news in maine for any unidentified remains in the woods or off the coast. it could work to have manhattan play out in a very similar way - neal was abandoned as a child by his father intentionally or accidentally; years later when his father is dying of illness or old age (heart problems) he finally gets a lead to track neal down but needs the assistance of someone like emma. neal and his father do get to briefly reconcile and say their goodbyes on his deathbed (no magic candles to save him).

anged my mind - if on the same timeline from s2 manhattan to s3a going home thats what only a matter of weeks?? neal coming back from maine in a matter of weeks with new live in girlfriend, long lost son and fiance tamara no where to be seen - multiple people would call the police. why can't they just be happy?? osomehow its been at least 3 years since neal reentered their lives in boston/ny or otherwise they skip ny and go straight to tallahassee and no need to deal with neal's former life in ny.

And to top it off in theory add all of the lost boys in tow (school bus for a joy ride?) as well. Hook (maybe Neal too?) run a group home for boys - part of the mission is to help them get into college and to avoid getting tricked into a life owed to the military (given hook's own bad experience in the navy). hooks memories are mostly overhauled (i.e. no preexisting relation to neal, rumple, milah). they got stuck up in maine on a field trip? camping trip? college visit?

and fortunate side effect of neal not going to enchanted forest: rumples not resurrected, zelena doesnt have the pieces she needs so doesnt go after snowing baby, so snowing doesnt cast the curse at all or they cast without zelenas interference & easily reunite with emma, neal, henry, etc

#swanfire month 2022 #swanfire au #swanfire ua #going home #ouat s3a #ouat #swanfire #swanthief

[leftoverenvy]

Tastes Like Sugar (ch. 5)

Summary: India Mae, or Indi, is a music major, struggling to pay bills, tuition, work, and make good grades.  Emily Prentiss is a BAU profiler, as well as a DC socialite thanks to her huge family fortune.  The two enter into a mutually beneficial arrangement: Emily will pay for Indi's school if Indi accompanies Emily to her social functions for a few months, posing as her girlfriend.  As weeks go by, the lines between their arrangement and their true feelings start to blur.  But money can't buy love, right?

Pairing: India Mae Banks x Emily Prentiss; OC x Emily Prentiss

Warnings: eventual smut; sugar baby relationships; age gap (16 years - but all over 18); very slow burn

Word Count: 3.7k

Read on Wattpad | Ao3 | Previous Chapters

Taglist: @ssa-sapphic 🧸; @5raysofsunshine 🌮; @reidselle 🦭; @milfprotector 🐝💚; @gaelic-symphony 🎻 ; @scargarcia-magshotchner 💜; @sadgirlml 🌻💌; @hotchs-bitch ; @multiverse-mxdness ; @spencersendgame

Chapter 5 - Terms and Conditions

Emily moved to get out of the car, so I followed her lead.  She rushed around the front of the car to my side and stuck her hand out for me to help me out.  Chivalry was very important to Emily, I noted.  I slipped my hand in hers, expecting her to drop it as soon as I was out.  To my surprise, she clasped our hands together and walked me to the front door. 

Her house was huge.  Our half hour drive time plus the fact that it was dark and quiet indicated we were outside DC.  I could hear running water nearby.  I couldn't tell if it was a fountain or a river.  The sconces illuminated our way as well as her home.  It looked like a cottage tucked away in the forest if cottages could be mansions.  "You don't live in the city?"

"I like to be halfway between Quantico and DC.  Plus, this is a bit more private."  Our hands continued to swing between us as she pulled me up the path to the front door.  I turned towards her, expecting her to open the door and lead me inside.  She leaned in slowly.  My heart took off in a sprint, pounding so loudly in my chest Emily could probably hear it over the night's silence.  It was too early.  We had only been out once.  We were still getting to know each other.  Though my brain rationally understood that, my heart was still excited for this.  My body was excited to know what her lips felt like on mine.

The closer she got, the easier it was to smell her sweet scent.  It washed over me, emptying my head of everything but her.  My breathing increased; my chest heaved.  I noticed her eyes flicker down and then smirk back up at me.  "Excuse me, Indi.  I have to unlock the door."

I deflated like a balloon – my lungs, my hopes, my dreams.  And immediately I was filled with red-hot embarrassment.  Of course she wasn't going to kiss me this early.  She hadn't even indicated that she wanted anything physical.  I was so young, so naive.  Obviously, she wouldn't be attracted to that.  I needed to be more sophisticated.  That's what she was used to, and it's what she deserved.

She placed her hand at the small of my back again and shuffled me inside.  She flipped on some lights, and I was shocked by what I saw.  For some reason I expected sleek metallics, lots of blacks and silver.  I expected a cold, staged house.  Rather, we walked through a foyer and hallway into her huge, open living room connected to a very large kitchen.  Everything was warm, plush, and cozy.  There were candles, books, and blankets sprinkled throughout the room.  It felt like home.  The back wall was a row of French doors, the glass panes allowing the moonlight to stream through. 

I noticed the moonlight glint off something in the backyard.  "Do you have a pool?" I asked, looking out the French doors.

"It's the creek.  You should see the sunrise over it.  It's gorgeous.  It's actually why I picked this property," she said softly.

But as beautiful as the room was, my eyes wandered to the huge piano in the corner.  It was sleek and gorgeous.  An absolute dream.  She had it facing so that I could imagine myself playing and looking out the windows watching the sun set over the creek.  I yearned for that to happen, but it was rude to expect to commandeer her piano.  I looked down, embarrassed I had let my thoughts get away from me like that.  This wasn't my home.  I was in someone else's home – at the whim of a stranger, too poor to pay my own bills.  I was a glorified whore.

I felt a finger on my chin, tilting my face up gently.  She pulled my gaze up to meet hers.  "I know you're dying to play.  You're incredibly talented – I watched the video on your profile.  Would you play for me sometime?"

"You mean that?" I asked, hope swelling in my chest.  But then something shifted.  My lips parted on a gasp.  Her eyes entranced me.  There was an unbearable tenderness in them that made my heart yearn for something.  I never liked brown eyes before.  But hers were so rich and deep, I lost myself in them.  My embarrassment faded into a pleasant anticipation swirling in my stomach for the thousandth time tonight.

I was already losing myself in Emily.  I bit my lip in worry.  Emily was making me feel and think things I never had before.  Who would I be at the end of all this?  How much of myself was I going to lose?  It didn't matter though.  Because looking in her eyes, I knew that no matter what happened, it would be worth it.  Any second spent with her would be worth whatever was to come.

She interrupted my self-doubt.  "If we do this, it's yours to play whenever you want.  I can't play.  As of now, it is the most expensive decoration in the house.  It deserves someone as talented as you to play it.  I'd expect you to play if you want to do this."

"Come," she said holding her hand out.  She pulled me to the couch.  "Do you want a drink?  I think I have a bottle of wine."

"I'm okay, Emily.  Thank you though."

Unlike the "easy" questions Emily asked at dinner, she was done holding back.  "What were your parents like?"  I stiffened; I hadn't talked about my parents in over a year.

"Uhm."  I swallowed thickly.

"I'm sorry, I was only curious.  You're such a wonderful young woman.  I'm just trying to learn how you got here.  You don't have to answer that if you don't want to."

"No," I hesitated, "It's fine…I just-"  I interrupted myself with a sigh.  "It's just been a while since anyone's asked about them," I admitted.  I was touched Emily cared enough to ask.  "My mom was incredible.  She was one of those people that was just so carefree, so outgoing, you couldn't help but love her.  I was more like my dad, though.  We were both content to just be present, take it all in." 

I looked down and bit my lip, willing myself not to cry.  "I used to fight with my mom a lot," I whispered.  "Because we were so different.  I didn't think she understood me.  She couldn't understand why I wanted to be alone so much.  She always pushed me to go out and live in the world, not just read about it in a book.  Her and Penelope would have gotten on great."

"She sounds like a force to be reckoned with."

"Yeah," I finished lamely.  "Anyway, they were so supportive of my music.  I just wish they could see me now," I lamented.

"You don't believe they can see you now?"

I hedged.  "Do you?"

"No."

"Me neither.  I wish I could believe in Heaven and all that.  I just…don't."  I hoped I wasn't offending her.  I didn't know how we got to this heavy topic.  It was dangerous territory: one wrong word and Emily could call this all off.

"I came to terms pretty early with abandoning my faith."  I looked up at her in shock.  I was desperate to hear more.  I could tell she had a heart-wrenching story longing to come out.  I could see it behind her eyes.  "Maybe that's a conversation for another day…"

"Alright," I agreed, hiding my disappointment.  I didn't want to push her.  There was something so guarded about Emily.  It would take a long time to knock her walls down.  But they didn't scare me.

She was quiet for a few beats and then asked, "How long have you been out?"  So we weren't done with the super personal questions after all.

"As long as I can remember really.  Sometime in middle school.  It wasn't a big deal for my parents, so when I realized I liked girls, it wasn't a big deal for me either.  I was really lucky."

"Sounds like it.  That's really nice.  Everyone deserves that," she said wistfully.

"I take it you didn't have that?"

"No," she said matter-of-factly.  "But I don't actually think it's about being gay.  If it weren't that, it would be something else with my mother.  She's an ambassador, so it's all about the political capital, the public perception.  I grew up all over the world, never really finding home.  I was never anywhere long enough to lay down roots."

"I'm sorry, Em."  And I really was.  What a horrible way to grow up.  I couldn't fathom not having supportive parents who loved me unconditionally.  It was inconceivable to me to have parents that only used you as a pawn in their political gains.  Though my childhood was cut short by unspeakable tragedy, my heart ached for the childhood I was now sure Emily didn't have.  "I wish things had been different for you."

She cleared her throat and asked, "What would you do if not for music?" not so subtly changing the subject.

My brow furrowed.  "What do you mean?" 

"If you weren't studying music, if you weren't going to pursue a career playing piano, what would you do instead?"

I let a puff of air out.  I genuinely had no idea.  It had never occurred to me to form a backup plan; this was always the plan.  "I don't know," I said, still thinking.  "I honestly have never thought about it."

She didn't have another question, so I asked, "What about you?  What would you do if you weren't in the BAU?"

"Well, I didn't always work at the FBI, but I have always done this type of work.  I've only been with the FBI for about two years now, but I did similar work abroad.  I'm kind of with you though – I don't know what I would do if not this."

I smiled.  There was something nice about loving what you did so much you couldn't imagine doing anything else.  I liked that Emily loved her job.  "What made you come to the FBI?"

"I was on assignment where I was undercover.  What I didn't realize when I took the job was that meant working 24/7.  You're always on the job.  It was exhausting.  Even though I'm always working, I'm still working less than I did a few years ago.  It was a nice, slower job."

"Wow, you really are a super spy saving the world."  My thoughts betrayed my words though.  I wanted to seem supportive but I couldn't fathom her working more hours than she did now.  Her current job was a "slow" job to her?  I had already seen firsthand how much she worked.  She was the definition of a workaholic.

She chuckled.  "I wouldn't go that far, Indi.  It's nice, if not a bit lonely."

I tilted my head at her.  "What do you mean by that?"

She sighed as if she were upset with herself.  "I very stupidly started dating a coworker.  When we ended things, it was bumpy and awkward.  Still is even though it's been several months now."

My mind was spinning a mile a minute.  Why was I jealous?  She was perfectly free to date before me.  Hell, she was perfectly free to date now.  What we had wasn't real.  And yet, I wanted to be special to her for some reason.  "That must have been hard, dating a coworker.  Is that even allowed?"

She laughed.  "No.  It's very much discouraged.  We kept it a secret…Well," she stopped herself, "Mostly a secret."

"Is that very awkward to work with your ex?"  I bit my lip, hoping desperately I was being nonchalant enough about this.

"Most days, no.  But every now and then something crops up that stirs the pot."  I had the sudden urge to wrap her in my arms.  She looked like she could use a hug.  I didn't know where we stood though.  We hadn't actually formed an agreement, and there wasn't any word on touching the last time we spoke.

She looked at me for a few seconds and then randomly blurted, "You're too good to be true.  What are you really doing on SugarBook?  Surely not to just get help with the bills…"

I laughed in her face.  I didn't mean to; it was incredibly rude.  I was too good to be true?  She was every young lesbian's fantasy.  Rich, beautiful, smart, not overbearing.  "You can't be serious!  What are you doing on SugarBook?  I am certain you could date and have your choice of any gay woman in the DC metro, maybe even up to New York.  And maybe even some of the straight women, too."

She snorted at that.  "I told you.  I want someone to go with me to the events I have coming up.  Trying to date is exhausting.  Women only hang around me for my money or leave after a few months because of my work schedule.  I haven't had much success dating…"

"I find that incredibly hard to believe," I said before I could stop myself.

"Why's that so hard to believe?  I feel the same way about you."  And though I didn't believe in fate, something inside me thought maybe there was something to it after all.  It was like Emily and I were destined for each other.

"Well, I'm really just looking to pay this bill," I reminded.  I couldn't help but feel uneasy at the irony of it all.  Emily didn't like dating because women were only after her money, so she voluntarily entered into a relationship where I was only after her money?  I continued, "I was worried I would have to drop out after this semester because I couldn't afford it."

"Speaking of," she changed the subject again, "Can you email me your school information and give me permission to pay this bill?  I'm not sure what is required administratively to give me access.  Or would you prefer if I sent you the check and then you apply it to your account?"

"What's easiest for you?" I asked, still in disbelief this was really happening.

"Frankly, it would be easiest just to link my checking account to your school account so any bill could just be auto-drafted."  My eyes widened.

"You don't even want a bill?  To see the charges?"  She shook her head.  "What if I went to the bookstore and bought a new laptop and headphones?" I asked, trying to think of the most ludicrous charges I could rack up.

She shrugged.  "I'd consider it a school expense."  I thought my eyes might pop out of my head.  "I also know that you are unreasonably worried about what I'm spending on you.  So I think I'm safe from you making 'unnecessary' purchases," she said putting air quotes around it.

"Yeah," I chuckled nervously, "I suppose that's true…"  I bit my lip, struggling to find the words for how to bring this up.  Hell, just jump in.  "So uh, about the terms you sent the other day…"

"Yes?"  She shifted her weight, crossing her long legs and propping her head up with the arm resting on the back of the couch.

"I uh," I gulped.  "I noticed you…"  Jesus Indi, spit it out.  "I noticed you didn't mention anything physical."

"That was intentional," she stated plainly.  And she didn't elaborate.  I stared at her, unsure how to ask what I was dying to know.  Didn't she find me attractive that way?  Wasn't she interested in me like that?  She started chewing on her pointer fingernail.  Was Emily nervous?  She always seemed so sure of herself.  I had a feeling this wasn't something one saw often. 

"I told you.  I'm interested in companionship and dates to social functions over the next few months.  I'll type up a schedule for you and send it to you, that way you can mark your calendar.  But if my mother…" she cut herself off.  "Anyway, this is not a physical relationship, and that will in no way affect your weekly allowance." 

It was a lot to take in.  I had never heard of a sugar momma/daddy not ask for sex.  "Besides," she continued, "I'm interested in some…unconventional things.  Sex isn't part of this arrangement."  My mind reeled.  What could be so unconventional that she was willing to forego sex altogether?  I burned with curiosity.  Was it really so scandalous, she couldn't even discuss sex?  But it did make me feel LOADS better.

Emily was incredibly sexy, and while I was a bit stung she didn't feel that way about me, taking sex out of the equation lessened the pressure.  I didn't have to pretend to be some experienced woman for her.  I wasn't ready to have sex for money – it felt too close to prostitution.

"So what WILL be part of this arrangement, then?"

"I typed it up for you, if that's alright?" she asked standing up.  She walked over to the kitchen island and grabbed a small packet of papers.  "It's not too different from when we were texting the other night.  I just added a few more details.  Look it over," she said handing me the papers, "To make sure there aren't surprises in there you aren't okay with."

I read in silence.  As we previously discussed, the arrangement was for four months to fulfill all her upcoming social engagements.  I noticed she added a later option to renew if we both wanted that.  Minimal physical contact and initiated kisses only in the presence of others to make it look like Emily and I were dating.  I could…do that.  That didn't seem so different than tonight at dinner.  Could I kiss a stranger?  I looked up at Emily watching me read.  Yeah, I could definitely kiss this stranger.

I looked back down and continued reading.  I would have my own room and bathroom, but I needed to live here.  Cook, clean, company – just like we discussed.  "Emily to keep her grocery service so India will not need to grocery shop."  I nearly rolled my eyes; of course she had a grocery service.

"India's monthly allowance in the amount of three thousand dollars ($3,000) is hers to use as she sees fit, and requires no permission for any expenditures out of that account.  Emily will set up a bank account and direct deposit the allowance monthly."  Jesus.  Seeing that huge number again was quite the shock.  I didn't think I would ever get used to having that much money all at once. 

"Also in this account will be a reimbursement for this semester's tuition, fees, and expenses." 

My mouth gaped open like a fish.  "Emily!" I objected.  "This was NOT part of our original agreement."

"What wasn't?"

I flipped the paper around so she could see it.  "This clause here!  You can't reimburse my tuition and fees!  That's unfair to you!  I just need help paying this one bill."

"It absolutely was part of our original agreement.  I told you I would pay for tuition and fees."

"But they've already been paid!  It's too much," I argued.

"This one's non-negotiable, Indi.  Please.  This was exactly what you wanted help paying for: school."  I sighed, knowing I was going to lose this one.  I went back to reading.

"All expenses, including but not limited to dresses, jewelry, makeup, etc., needed to attend Emily's events will be paid by Emily."

"Any unanticipated, large expenses may be paid for by Emily but will need approval."

"Though this will be India's home as well, any friends coming over should be approved before invited."

"India not to work during any period of the arrangement except for the duties outlined in this agreement and her school obligations." 

"Emily, you can't be serious!" I objected again.

She sighed heavily.  "About what this time?"

"I can't work?"

"It's non-negotiable.  I want you to do well in school and not be worn out trying to juggle too many things."

"I've made it this far," I pointed out.

"But now you don't have to work.  Wouldn't you rather focus your time on hobbies anyway?  Or work on your music more?  Have time to learn the guitar?"  I bit my lip.  That did sound nice.  How easy it was for her to uproot my entire life!  "Does this sound like something you can agree to?"

"I need to discuss it with Penelope first."  Her brow crinkled in confusion.  "I'm not sure she can afford to pay for the whole apartment without me there."

"Obviously your rent is included in your tuition and expenses," she stated as if it were obvious.

"But I won't be living there!"

"Irrelevant," she dismissed before I could really get started.  "You need a place for when you return home.  You need a home to return home to.  So I'll take care of it."

"Then yes," I said shyly, "I would like to do this.  Do we need to sign anything?  How official is this?"

"Not.  It just gives us a good idea of what to expect for the next four months."  I yawned, the late night catching up.  "Let me get you home," she said standing up.  "This copy's yours."  She handed me the stack of papers back.

After the drive back to my apartment, she walked me to the door.  She cupped my face and said, "Goodnight, India.  I had a great time.  I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," I said softly, reveling in the feel of her hand on me.  "Text me when you get home, though?  So I know you made it safe?"

She looked at me with awe and bewilderment but nodded stiffly.  "Goodnight."  And she walked back to her car.

I slipped into bed and immediately fell asleep, anxious to get this next chapter of my life started.  And when I woke in the morning, I was pleased to receive my normal good morning text from Emily.  I was even more pleased to discover, on my way out the door to class, a huge bouquet of gorgeous flowers sitting on my doorstep.  Yes, I was eager to see where this would take me.

– – –

Continue to next chapter

#🌬 fics #tastes like sugar #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x oc #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds au #wlw writing

[casitafallz]

Pariah AU | A Small Spark of Warmth | P1

Julieta had gotten used to the change of pace as the rebuild continued; the work delayed as a heavy rain had forced the halting of the foundation levels and waiting on the sun to try before the work could continue safety.

That had been three days ago.

With prepping food for the builders and free rein of the kitchens, Julieta had found her happy place. At least, a place she could be less sad in with her hands working. She did her best to pack her family’s lunches more personalised and it was a relief to see the baskets empty at the end of the day.

It gave her hope.

It was a spark and that was all she needed, even with contact with her own children were less than what she had hoped, Julieta had bargained it all on the fact that they were simply busy and had seen them all work to validate that excuse.

Julieta finished up the small basket of Arepa and Empanadas for Camilo, tucking in the covering before she collected up the other baskets while Agustín helped.

“You know, if I grab a blanket, we could have a picnic.” Agustín suggested as they headed up towards the end; the scaffolding now in place, very much visible and would be weeks before they’d be taken down. “It’s be nice; I could light a candle, make it romantic.”

“That does sound nice. We could sit by the river.”

Agustín hummed in agreement. “Candles?”

“No, I don’t want to owe someone a blanket.” Julieta replied swiftly, ignoring the mildly offended look her husband sent her.  

Her eyes ran over the front; the porch looking somewhat intact; the blue support beams salvageable and looked to be setting in a concreate mould, stone masons were examining the archway and jotting down notes and sketches.

All in all, looked like a good start.

Julieta set the baskets down at the table, turning them all to face the edge.

“I think the rest of Encanto might get jealous.” Agustín whispered, sliding an arm around her, their basket still on his side.

“Too bad. This is one of the few things I can do for my family at this point.” She dropped her hands from Luisa’s basket, which was bigger than the others but it was well known her daughter had to have a bigger lunch to upkeep with her excises and muscle mass. Even without her gift, she put work into herself with pride and it made her happy to see Luisa get a little bit accepting with her loss; she was more than her gift.

“Why don’t you go and let them know lunch is here. I’ll set up by the river.” She smiled, taking their basket.

He lent down, pecking her on the lips. “I’ll see you there, Mi Amor”

 “Julieta!” A voice called behind Julieta, knocking her from her thoughts as she headed through town, mulling on what sort of blanket to buy.

Julieta turned, surprised to see the familiar face Agustín’s mother walking quickly towards her. Senora Rojas was by no means as intimated as her own mother and she was a surprisingly tall woman for her age. Her grey hair pulled back into a coiled bun with a few light decorations from their past in the city. Her expression was tense, lips pursed and very like how Agustín got when anxious about something

“Senora Rojas,” she greeted, not fully able to mask the surprise. “Can I help you with something?” it wasn’t often she saw her suegra like this; mostly in passing when Agustin visited his parents.

“Por Pavor, walk with me.”

Julieta wasn’t left much as a choice as Senora Rojas took her arm and began to lead her back the way she had come, but took a sharp left through a short-cut alley way.

“What’s going on?”

“Agustín told me what happened years ago.” Senora Rojas spoke, going straight to the point. “I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed but I’m happy you two were able to get back together”

“Oh?” Where she was going with this, Julieta had no idea but she should have guessed that Senora Rojas knew; Agustín was a bad liar.

Mid way down, she was tugged to a stop, Senora Rojas’s posture sagging.

“I don’t know how much you are aware, Julieta but people are now talking.”

“Our home collapsed, I’m not shocked.”

Senora Rojas shook her head. “Word’s spread today that you had a hand in it. True as that may be, I know you Madrigals wanted to keep that private.”

Julieta blinked in shock, her breath hitching in her throat but she knew there was only one person willing to spread that. Senora Rojas was right, the family didn’t want the news to spread… because they all knew how the townspeople got with fresh gossip.

“Camilo…” She groaned, her hands coming to her face. God, why did he do this? He had no right… Julieta could only anticipate that the rumour would only grow and spread; everyone would know by the sun touched down. Her pulse spiked, mouth running dry and she could distantly feel her grip on the basket shaking. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.

“I…. I need to go.” She needed to get back to her room; she damn well wasn’t going to be wandering around to be on display. She needed to keep to a low profile…

“I’ll walk with you.” Senora Rojas decided, “You’re staying with the Rios familiar, Si?”

Her head bobbed swiftly, wordlessly.

Senora Rojas took her by the elbow and led the way out but now, Julieta felt like her senses had been turned on; passing glances seemed to be lingering stares but the looks, no she could now see how one women turned to the next, a loud talk on food harvests turned to hush whispers.

Why hadn’t she noticed? Why didn’t she see this before?

The answer was simple, she was too focused thinking on what sort of blanket to buy.

Her grip on the basket tightened, but she fought down the anxiety as they went. It was only a few minutes before they reached the house.

But Julieta flinched back as Senor Rios beat them to the door, opening it before she had reached for the handle but to her surprise, a bag was dropped at her feet.

A look of pure astonishment crossed her face.

“As much as we regret this, we will not have anyone who had brought down the miracle stay with us.”

Julieta felt too shocked to say anything as she stared at the bag, pulse in her ears and she was distantly aware of Senora Rojas loudly arguing but Julieta felt a numbness in her head cloud everything out, distant from reality and her own body. She turned, hazily began to walk away; some part of her needing the escape from that.

“Julieta?!” the voice of her in-law echoing but she didn’t take it in through the fogginess.

Julieta didn’t remember Senora Rojas catching her by the shoulders.

Julieta didn’t remember being led away, not hearing the woman’s concerns.

Julieta didn’t remember being let into a house, passing her suegro, and into a room. Senora Rojas’s pushing her to sit down.

“Julieta?”

“Hm?” Her voice was faint to her own ears.

Senora Rojas’s face swam into view before Julieta felt reality snap back as a low stinging pain echoed across her cheek, the pain barely there and was replaced quickly with a low burning.

Julieta blinked, her hand coming to her face.

“Oh good, you’re back.” Senora Rojas replied, “I was worried.” She shook her hand. “Stay here, I don’t think it’s best to have you wandering.”

Julieta nodded, her hands coming to her hair, pulling the pins to allow her hair to drop to her shoulders but she felt the world of emotion began to seep in, the heat spreading to her eyes that welled up, clouding her vision again, her throat felt tight and the ache in her chest felt heavier than before.

They had been kicked out.

Because of her.

Due to Tumblr’s incompetence, they’ve terminated my original blog where all my old drabbles were stored and it’s now weeks of hearing nothing. I’ve opted to repost all of them onto the reboot blog

#Pariah AU #julieta madrigal #agustín madrigal #agustin madrigal #mirabel madrigal #luisa madrigal #isabela madrigal #alma madrigal #bruno madrigal #pepa madrigal #felix madrigal #camilo madrigal #dolores madrigal #antonio madrigal #encanto #encanto au

[casitafallz-a]

Pariah AU | A Small Spark of Warmth | P1

Julieta had gotten used to the change of pace as the rebuild continued; the work was delayed as heavy rain had forced the halting of the foundation levels and waiting on the sun to dry before the work could continue safely.

That had been three days ago.

With prepping food for the builders and free rein of the kitchens, Julieta had found her happy place. At least, a place she could be less sad in with her hands working. She did her best to pack her family’s lunches more personalised and it was a relief to see the baskets empty at the end of the day.

It gave her hope.

It was a spark and that was all she needed, even with contact with her own children was less than what she had hoped, Julieta had bargained it all on the fact that they were simply busy and had seen them all work to validate that excuse.

Julieta finished up the small basket of Arepa and Empanadas for Camilo, tucking in the covering before she collected up the other baskets while Agustín helped.

“You know, if I grab a blanket, we could have a picnic,” Agustín suggested as they headed up towards the end; the scaffolding now in place, very much visible and would be weeks before they’d be taken down. “It’ll be nice; I could light a candle, make it romantic.”

“That does sound nice. We could sit by the river.”

Agustín hummed in agreement. “Candles?”

“No, I don’t want to owe someone a blanket,” Julieta replied swiftly, ignoring the mildly offended look her husband sent her.  

Her eyes ran over the front; the porch looking somewhat intact; the blue support beams salvageable and looked to be set in a concrete mould, stone masons were examining the archway and jotting down notes and sketches.

All in all looked like a good start.

Julieta set the baskets down at the table, turning them all to face the edge.

“I think the rest of Encanto might get jealous,” Agustín whispered, sliding an arm around her, their basket still on his side.

“Too bad. This is one of the few things I can do for my family at this point.” She dropped her hands from Luisa’s basket, which was bigger than the others but it was well known her daughter had to have a bigger lunch to upkeep with her exercise and muscle mass. Even without her gift, she put work into herself with pride and it made her happy to see Luisa get a little bit accepting of her loss; she was more than her gift.

“Why don’t you go and let them know lunch is here. I’ll set up by the river.” She smiled, taking their basket.

He lent down, pecking her on the lips. “I’ll see you there, Mi Amor”

“Julieta!” A voice called behind Julieta, knocking her from her thoughts as she headed through town, mulling on what sort of blanket to buy.

Julieta turned, surprised to see the familiar face of Agustín’s mother walking quickly towards her. Senora Rojas was by no means as intimated as her own mother and she was a surprisingly tall woman for her age. Her grey hair was pulled back into a coiled bun with a few light decorations from their past life in the city. Her expression was tense, lips pursed and very like how Agustín got when anxious about something

“Senora Rojas,” she greeted, not fully able to mask the surprise. “Can I help you with something?” it wasn’t often she saw her suegra like this; mostly in passing when Agustin visited his parents.

“Por Pavor, walk with me.”

Julieta wasn’t left much as a choice as Senora Rojas took her arm and began to lead her back the way she had come, but took a sharp left through a short-cut alleyway.

“What’s going on?”

“Agustín told me what happened years ago.” Senora Rojas spoke, going straight to the point. “I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed but I’m happy you two were able to get back together”

“Oh?” Where she was going with this, Julieta had no idea but she should have guessed that Senora Rojas knew; Agustín was a bad liar. Some things he probably had to share...

Midway down, she was tugged to a stop, Senora Rojas’s posture sagging.

“I don’t know how much you are aware, Julieta but people are now talking.”

“Our home collapsed, I’m not shocked.”

Senora Rojas shook her head. “Word’s spread today, at least the last hour, that you had a hand in it. True as that may be, I know you Madrigals wanted to keep that private.”

Julieta blinked in shock, her breath hitching in her throat but she knew there was only one person willing to spread that. Senora Rojas was right, the family didn’t want the news to spread… because they all knew how the townspeople got with fresh gossip.

“Camilo…” She groaned, her hands coming to her face. God, why did he do this? He had no right… Julieta could only anticipate that the rumour would only grow and spread; everyone would know by the sun touched down. Her pulse spiked, mouth running dry and she could distantly feel her grip on the basket shaking. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.

“I…. I need to go.” She needed to get back to her room; she damn well wasn’t going to be wandering around to be on display. She needed to keep to a low profile…

“I’ll walk with you.” Senora Rojas decided, “You’re staying with the Rios familiar, Si?”

Her head bobbed swiftly, wordlessly.

Senora Rojas took her by the elbow and led the way out but now, Julieta felt like her senses had been turned on; passing glances seemed to be lingering stares but the looks, no she could now see how one woman turned to the next, a loud talk on food harvests turned to hush whispers.

Why hadn’t she noticed? Why didn’t she see this before?

The answer was simple, she was too focused thinking on what sort of blanket to buy.

Her grip on the basket tightened, but she fought down the anxiety as they went. It was only a few minutes before they reached the house.

But Julieta flinched back as Senor Rios beat them to the door, opening it before she had reached for the handle but to her surprise, a bag was dropped at her feet.

A look of pure astonishment crossed her face.

“As much as we regret this, we will not have anyone who had brought down the miracle stay with us.”

Julieta felt too shocked to say anything as she stared at the bag, pulse in her ears and she was distantly aware of Senora Rojas loudly arguing but Julieta felt a numbness in her head cloud everything out, distant from reality and her own body. She turned, and hazily began to walk away; some part of her needed the escape from that.

“Julieta?!” the voice of her in-law echoing but she didn’t take it in through the fogginess.

Julieta didn’t remember Senora Rojas catching her by the shoulders.

Julieta didn’t remember being led away, not hearing the woman’s concerns.

Julieta didn’t remember being let into a house, passing her suegro, and into a room. Senora Rojas’s pushing her to sit down.

“Julieta?”

“Hm?” Her voice was faint to her own ears.

Senora Rojas’s face swam into view before Julieta felt reality snap back as a low stinging pain echoed across her cheek, the pain was barely there and was replaced quickly with a low burning.

Julieta blinked, her hand coming to her face.

“Oh good, you’re back.” Senora Rojas replied, “I was worried.” She shook her hand. “Stay here, I don’t think it’s best to have you wandering.”

Julieta nodded, her hands coming to her hair, pulling the pins to allow her hair to drop to her shoulders but she felt the world of emotion begin to seep in, the heat spreading to her eyes that welled up, clouding her vision again, her throat felt tight and the ache in her chest felt heavier than before.

They had been kicked out.

Because of her.

#julieta madrigal #agustin madrigal #agustín madrigal #pariah julieta #pariah madrgials #pariah agustín #encanto #encanto au #pariah au #la familia madrigal #disassociation tw #luisa madrigal #camilo madrigal #mirabel madrigal

[noctumbra]

peaches: nine [part one]

summary ─ “holy shit,” bucky breathed as he took in the sight before him. “happy fucking birthday to me, indeed.” 

pairing ─ dadsbestfriend!bucky barnes x reader

warnings ─ smut, +18, age difference (reader is 21, bucky is 39 40), secret relationship, birthday sex, vaginal sex, lingerie, kissing, pet names, dirty talk, d/s undertones, fluff, oral sex

a/n ─ for our buck’s birthday, i present you a peaches one-shot lol it’s been so long since i wrote them, i missed them sm <33 thank you nonnie for the idea 😌 there you go, part one, 3.9k words lmao hope you like it! please leave a comment if you do! thank youuu <333 

(the lingerie is veery similar to this one, by the way. minus the lace beneath the bra part and the string in the middle [attached to the neck] ++ this is the plug)

peaches masterlist

Bucky wasn’t fond of his birthday this year. He was turning 40 and wasn’t exactly happy about it. Every day leading up to his fortieth birthday, he watched himself in his mirror, watched the grays and whites in his beard and hair multiplying and becoming more visible.

Although she said that she loved how they made him look even sexier, Bucky couldn’t help but feel a bit old. The age gap between them wasn’t an issue, they had discussed it before, but he just couldn’t help himself. Now that he was now 40, he felt self-conscious. He was old while she was young ─ 21, to be exact─ and he had grays in his hair and beard and lines on his face─

“Fuck this,” Bucky grumbled to himself as he frowned at his reflection on the mirror. He knew Steve and Sam were planning something for his birthday, they were never slick about it. He also knew his other friends would be there, too, and maybe his sister. He didn’t want to celebrate his birthday this year, but he had no excuse to use.

“Fuck this, Jesus Christ,” he grunted this time. Bucky walked towards his closet and picked out his usual dark jeans, dark gray henley and a black t-shirt to wear beneath. Just as he put on his jeans and pulled his t-shirt on, he heard a bang coming from his living room. He frowned at first, but then chuckled when he heard her voice: “I’m fine!” Bucky shook his head with a smile on his lips. She was the only thing that was going to make his birthday party tolerable, he knew it.

A minute later, she appeared at his bedroom door with his favorite smile on her face. “Sir!” She exclaimed, making him chuckle. “Today is your birthday! How is it feel to be old?” His mood deflating a little, he shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he said, “My back ache decided to take the day off. Ask me again when it comes back.” She laughed. Crossing the threshold, she threw herself on his arms.

“Happy birthday,” she whispered, her hot breath licking his neck and sending shivers down his spine. “I’m glad you’re getting old healthily.” Bucky snorted. “I don’t know what I’m saying, ignore me, please,” she murmured, a whine hidden behind her words.

“’s alright,” Bucky murmured back. “Thank you, peaches.” Giggling silently, she pulled back and looked at him. Bucky swore that none of the women that he used to be with made him feel this way just by looking at him the way she did: All cared about and loved. A smile took over her face, and she lifted herself on her tiptoes. Her soft lips found his gently. His eyes closing, Bucky held her close to him and let her kiss him.

She moaned into the kiss, arms wrapping around his neck while a hand dove inside his hair. Bucky walked blindly towards the nearest flat surface, which was the wall next to his closet, and caged her between his body and the surface. Pulling back for a breath, Bucky moved his lips down to her neck. He kissed her there so gently all the time because it was her sensitive spot: Always got her gasping and whining, and today was no different. He heard her gasp and swallow a whine when she felt his lips on her neck.

A pull on his hair, Bucky lifted his head and captured her lips again. He swallowed all the moans, whimpers and gasps she let out. She felt so good in his arms, in his space, Bucky wanted to keep her forever and not being judged about it.

“Okay, I take it back,” she breathed when Bucky pulled back. “You’re not a old man, okay.” Bucky smirked.

“Oh, baby,” he said. “A kiss is nothing. You should see what I can do with the rest of my body.” She shuddered in his arms, and Bucky tightened his hold on her body.

“I’m aware of the capabilities that your ‘old man’ body has,” she grumbled. Bucky chuckled and lowered her on the ground. She fixed her clothes and hair, trying not to look like she just made out. When she was done, she lifted her head and kissed Bucky on the cheek. “Happy birthday, again,” she whispered. Bucky smiled. She kissed him on the lips one last time and pulled back. “I gotta go. I sneaked out, I was supposed to be helping Papa.” Bucky nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight.” He frowned when she suddenly looked bashful.

“Yeah, I’ll see you tonight.” She smiled and fled. Bucky continued to frown after her, not understanding what just happened.

──

If Bucky had to be honest, Sam and Steve didn’t go overboard with his birthday party. It was low-key; there was Sam, Steve, Peggy, Sharon, Clint, Thor and her. Rebecca was supposed to be attending, too, but she had a last minute thing about work. She called him in the morning, and they already scheduled a breakfast date/belated birthday party for Saturday. It was nice. The cake had a small card saying ‘happy b-day gramps’, and there was exactly forty candles which Bucky knew it was Sam’s doing. He rolled his eyes playfully. It didn’t sting that much; he knew his friends were just playing with him because almost all of them were around the same age.

Bucky sighed quietly, breathing in the late night’s crisp air deeply, he closed his eyes for a second. He was happy. He had his family he called two days a week, his friends who were bunch of dumbasses but he loved them anyway.

He also had Y/N.

God, Bucky thought, recalling the memory they had about having a future and a family together. He wanted to tell Sam and Steve, but he was truly afraid of their reaction. At the end, they trusted him with their daughter, they thought she saw him as an uncle not as a lover. When their relationship came out, it was going to be a shitshow, Bucky was sure of it. She was worth every trouble, though.

“Hey,” Bucky jumped lightly when he heard her. He beamed and his lips split into a smile.

“Hi,” Bucky said, silently inviting her to be close to him. She inched closer, almost snuggling up at him.

“How did you find your party so far?” She asked, nudging him a bit. Bucky shrugged. He liked it. It was fun and didn’t actually feel like a birthday party; it was more like a comeback together party.

“It was nice,” he ended up saying. “I had fun.” She hummed. “The candles were a nice touch,” he added and got a small laugh out of her.

“Yeah, they were my idea,” she admitted. “Papa loved it, though.” Bucky chuckled.

“Shoulda known,” he murmured. She smiled and snuggled against his arm. It took almost all of his will power to not pull her into his arms and cuddle her right here. He knew he couldn’t do it, not when all of his friends were around let alone her parents.

“Can I come by your place tonight?” She asked. “I wanna give you my gift.” Bucky nodded absently.

“You didn’t have to buy me anything, honey, you know that right?” Bucky said, his voice gentle and low. She nodded and shrugged at the same time. “You can also give me your gift now, too, if you want.” She ducked her head down.

“It’s not that kind of gift, Sir,” she whispered, causing Bucky’s eyes widen. “I prefer to give it to you when we are alone.” Bucky licked his lips, swallowing audibly.

“Alright,” he muttered. “How about 1AM?”

“That’s fine,” she agreed. She kissed his cheek before pulling back, Bucky immediately missed her warmth next to him. “I’ll see you then, Sir,” she said. Bucky nodded.

He felt like he was in for something and he couldn’t wait to figure out what it was.

──

Bucky returned home quarter to midnight, claiming that he was tired and stuffed full with sugar and its energy was finally wearing off. The others agreed; it was still a week-day at the end and most of his friends were working still.

He took a shower, trying to calm down and kill some time until 1AM. He was eager to see her, to have her company and enjoy it freely. It was hard enough to stop himself kissing her the way he wanted to after he blew his candles off, so some alone would do them good, Bucky knew it.

The more his will power was being tested, the more he thought about coming out clean to Sam and Steve. He didn’t want to hide their relationship. He wanted to take her out on dates without the fear of getting seen by some people Sam or Steve might know. He wanted to hold her hand, cuddle her on the couch or kiss her wherever and whenever he wanted to. He needed to discuss this with her first, though.

Mind full of ideas about how to tell them, Bucky stepped out of the shower and moved onto his kitchen after putting on only his sweatpants (no boxers, either, because they were gonna come off anyway). It was just half past midnight, and he had half an hour to spend by himself until she came. Bucky sighed as he grabbed a glass and filled it with water. He just stood in his dark kitchen, saved from the street lights sizzling inside through the window above the sink, sipping his water in silence.

He must have zoned out because he almost jumped out of his skin when he heard the shy knock on his door. Setting down his glass, Bucky ran towards the door and opened it.

“Hi,” she breathed, quickly stepping inside and letting Bucky close the door behind her. She had casual clothes on, sweatpants and an oversize sweatshirt, but she took his breath away anyway.

“Hi, baby,” Bucky whispered and watched her getting shy delightfully. When he stepped closer to kiss her, she stepped back.

“Um,” she started, “I-I prefer─ with your gift, uh.” Stammering over her words, she played with her fingers. “Give me five minutes, and then come to the bedroom okay?” Bucky opened his mouth protest, but she was quick to shut him up. “Please, Sir?” Exhaling defeatedly, Bucky nodded.

“Alright,” he said, and she disappeared. The curiosity was eating him alive, but he wasn’t about to go and ruin this thing for her. If she wanted to give him a private gift, then she was going to give it to him on her own terms.

Walking back to his kitchen, Bucky fiddled with his half-full glass, playing with the water and sipping it sometimes.

He never knew that five minutes could feel like five centuries.

After his time was up, Bucky walked towards his bedroom, his heart beating faster with each step. The door was ajar. The major lights were off, but she chose to turn on the ones on the sides of his bed, they were dimmed. It gave the room a warmer vibe. His curtains were drawn, and Bucky could pick out the clothes she was wearing when she stepped inside his house. He moved his eyes on his bed, feeling his lungs stopped working, Bucky froze. 

She was in the middle of his bed, sitting on knees. She had red lingerie set on her; the lace design bra was hugging her breasts nicely, the garter belt was around her waist and was attached to the thigh stockings and the matching underwear was carrying the same lace design with the bra. She looked so damn beautiful, Bucky didn’t know how to function.

“Holy shit,” he breathed as he took in the sight before him. “Happy fucking birthday to me, indeed.” She ducked her head down, shy and feeling a little bit self-conscious about her body. Bucky wasn’t going to have that. Not when she looked like a fucking goddess before him. He leaned forward, not getting on the bed, and grabbed her chin gently. Lifting it up, he found her eyes and looked right into them. “You look so beautiful,” he whispered. “I cannot believe you chose me, and you’re givin’ yourself to me as a gift.” She smiled. It was her shy and adorable one, Bucky loved it. “Peaches,” Bucky whispered once more. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack one day.” She chuckled.

“You promised me not to die on me until I’m right behind you, Barnes,” she whispered back, smiling widely. Bucky let out a soft chuckle and fully leaned into kiss her.

The second their lips touched, both of them moaned in relief. It wasn’t the first kiss they had shared that day, but this one was full of promises and things to come in the next few hours. So, Bucky half-climbed on the bed, cradled her face in his hands and kissed her the way he wanted to since the beginning of his party.

Her lips were so soft against his, caressing his slightly chapped ones so nicely, Bucky felt his heart flutter. She vaguely tasted like peaches, and Bucky pulled back just a tad to huff a laugh.

“You taste like peaches,” he whispered. She giggled.

“Yeah, I restocked my lip balm,” she answered and pulled him back into the kiss. Bucky groaned this time. Fully climbing on the bed, leaning over to make her lay on her back, Bucky settled between her legs. The kiss they were sharing went from soft to passionate quickly. Bucky’s hands were traveling all over her body as he tilted his face from side to side so that he could deepen the kiss as he wished.

“God, honey,” Bucky groaned as he lowered his lips to her neck. Kissing and sucking the soft skin there, Bucky rubbed his stubble all over her collarbones. He was about to move south, put his lips on her stomach and maybe give her an appropriate kiss on some place he knew so well, but she pushed him back.  

“My gift, remember?” She said when she saw the confused look on his face. “Lingerie was just a side gift.” Bucky raised his brows as he pulled back a bit more to give her space. She smiled and flipped on her stomach. Her knees drawn up, hands flat on the sides of her head and her face plastered on his pillow, she wiggled her ass.

Her underwear was fucking backless.

“Motherfuck─” Bucky hissed. “What the fuck. Oh my God, peaches, what─” His hands were moving before he could process, grabbing two handful of flesh, Bucky squeezed them. She whimpered. Bucky pulled back one hand and brought it back harshly, slapping her soft flesh, making it burn.

“Oh, fuck,” she whispered as she bit her lip.

“What the fuck─ is this─” Bucky’s eyes zeroed in on the plug nestled between her cheeks. It had a heart shaped base, red jewel adorning it. It looked so pretty, Bucky wanted to leave it just like that, but he also wanted to play with so damn bad. “Sweetheart. Are you sure?”

“Mmhm,” she hummed. “Wan’ you to do it, please, Sir?” She looked at him over her shoulder.

“Ah, fuck,” Bucky whispered to himself. She always begged him so pretty, never left a chance to say ‘no’, and this time wasn’t different. “Alright, baby,” Bucky said. His fingers pressing on the plug, pushing it a bit deeper. She moaned. She lifted her ass even more up in the air, and Bucky felt like he was dreaming.

Even if he was, this was the best dream he ever had, he was fucking sure of it.

Grumbling meaningless things to himself, Bucky grabbed the base of the cute plug. He could see how wet her pussy was, could see it glistening and wetting her inner thighs, and he honestly didn’t know if he wanted her pussy or her ass first.

“How long can you stay?” He asked, voice low. She sighed happily.

“’til seven,” she answered. She was half-slurring. Bucky hummed, knowing that he had a long time ahead of him to play with her properly, he got off the bed to take off his sweatpants. Sliding a finger under the garter belt, Bucky pulled and released it, making it slap her skin. Bucky watched her ass jiggle deliciously as she gasped lightly. He pressed kisses all the way up to her spine and reached into his drawer to pull out condoms. “Mm, no,” she said, “Got an IUD.”

“I’m loving you even more every second,” Bucky said as he dropped the condom back into the drawer, pulling an amused chuckle out of her. Instead of condoms, Bucky pulled out his lube and put it someplace easy to reach. “I’m gonna tell you what I’m gonna do to you, alright, baby?” She nodded. Placing a kiss on her nape, Bucky took a hold of her hair, pulling it a little.

“First,” he started, “I’m gonna kiss anywhere I want.” Doing as he said; he kissed her neck, her jaw, shoulder blades, spine and her sides. Then, he moved up to kiss her on the lips filthily. This kiss was all about spit and passion and owning, she fucking loved it.

“Then, I’m gonna get you naked,” he whispered. His fingers were quick to find the clip of her bra and undoing it. Sliding the straps of her shoulders slowly, Bucky helped take the bra off. “But I’m gonna keep these,” he said, slapping her ass with one hand while the other one cupped her pussy from the front. She moaned loudly. “The backside of this underwear…” Bucky murmured. “The way your ass looks so damn beautiful in it…” Bucky moved down to bite her ass cheek lightly, making her yelp. “I’m gonna fuck you in it, peaches.”

Dragging one finger all the way from her clit to her plug, Bucky hummed. “I’mma fuck this little thing, first,” he said, inserting two of his fingers into your pussy. “It looks too wet and cute for me to not touch it, y’know,” he added. “But I was thinking maybe I would…” He trailed off as he leaned forward and just licked a fat line up to her plug. She shuddered under his tongue.

“Anything,” she sobbed into his pillow. “Anything you want, Sir, take it!” Chuckling darkly, Bucky did exactly that.

He trailed his tongue up and down, collecting all of her juices that were licking out constantly, licking her inner thighs clean, Bucky pushed his tongue inside of her. She whimpered and wiggled. Bucky was quick to give her a slap on her ass; a warning for her to stay still. She meekly apologized and stopped moving. Bucky slurped, his tongue dove deeper and curved just right. She groaned long and loud, Bucky was so glad that he wasn’t living at an apartment or something.

He pulled back. He was way too impatient for eating her out properly. Grabbing a hold of his cock, he dragged it up and down for a couple times. When he was sure that his dick was covered with her wetness, he slowly inched inside of her.

She gasped, her breath getting stuck on her throat as she fisted the sheets and arched her back. As Bucky slid deeper into her, he felt like was he could explode anytime. She was so tight, so wet and so warm around him, it was like sinking deep into silk sheets in a warm night… It felt so damn good.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Bucky moaned. “You’re tighter than a virgin, I fucking swear,” he grumbled as he leaned forward to cage her body under his. When his hips were flush against her, he stopped for a second. He didn’t want to come too early, but he had been Horny as hell ever since he saw that little plug nestled in its place.

This one was going to be a quick, take-the-edge-off kind of one.

“I’m not gonna last,” Bucky whispered and felt her nod. She was close already, Bucky could feel her walls fluttering around him. His eyes rolled backwards a little when he started to move his hips. Her tight as fuck heat was wrapped around him so damn nicely, Bucky was a little surprised that he hadn’t come as soon as he entered her.

His slow pace didn’t take too long to turn into a desperate, fast and hard one. His hips were slapping against hers, their sweaty skin making obscene sounds echoing in his bedroom. He was so close, so horny, that it really didn’t take him too long to feel his balls tighten. Bucky buried a groan into her neck. His hips were moving on a punishing pace. His hard cock was driving in and out of her pussy with obscene squelching sounds. All those sounds and her moaning and whimpering beneath him were getting to his head real fast. Bucky gasped.

“Sir─” She choked on a breath and gasped just like him. “’m so fuckin’ close, Sir, please!” Her legs were shaking, her chest was heaving and Bucky could feel the flutter of her walls increasing and becoming more intense with each thrust of his.

“God, honey, me too,” he moaned. His pace was halting, he knew he was about to come. Groaning, Bucky slipped his fingers on her front and found her clit. She screamed. “Shit!” Bucky cursed as she came unexpectedly. Her knees buckled with the intensity of her orgasm and she collapsed on the bed with Bucky’s cock still hard and still inside of her. Bucky cursed again, taking a hold of her knees, he spread her legs to her sides. They were quivering in his hands, and he knew she was sensitive, but he was right fucking there. Lying fully on top her, Bucky started to move his hips again. It was a filthy and only focused on chasing his orgasm kind of pace, this time.

“Oh, fuck, Sir!” She exclaimed, eyes widening. Bucky was in deep. He was in so deep, her walls were so tight─

“Shit,” Bucky cursed. “Fuck, oh, God, ah, fuuck─!” The delirious movements of his hips stopped. His balls tightened, cock twitched in her and he came. Eyes rolling backwards, Bucky groaned loud and long. His taut muscles going lax, his hot breath licking her over-heated body and her tightness was still hugging his poor cock so nicely.

“God, Bucky, what the fuck,” she panted. Bucky hummed. He rubbed his stubble-covered jaw on her shoulder affectionately. Easing off of her, Bucky dropped himself next to her and pulled her into his arms to cuddle. “My legs won’t stop quiver.”

Bucky snorted. “You’re welcome,” he grumbled. She rolled her eyes but stayed quiet, burrowing herself deeper into her lover’s arms. Their eyes were closing, they were tired and much needed orgasm had loosened up their tensed muscles. “Round two in an hour,” Bucky slurred. “Gonna play with you.”

She just hummed and closed her eyes.

A little energy nap would do them good, she knew it.

──

[part two will be up soon!]

#bukcy barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagines #dadsbestfriend!bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #dad's best friend bucky #dadsbestfriend!bucky barnes x reader #peaches

[allegra-writes]

"Upside Down Soy Iced Caramel Macchiato"

Aleksander Morozova x Reader

Coffee shop AU

Warnings: none, this is pure fluff.

I usually steer clear from physical descriptions, but this is a special little something for the Decaf Coven, @amayatheowl @cocoamoonmalfoy @seolaseoul and @chaoticpete @bleh-bleh-blehs just this once, this is a brown eyed, brunette!Reader. If you prefer, you can read the Darklina version on AO3

MY MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

"Here, Ivan? Really??" Aleks raised an eyebrow, judgement clear in his voice as he glanced at the sign above their heads announcing the "Brewed Awakening" cafe, a new age, yoga friendly, law of attraction or some other hippie bullshit better suited for sunny, spiritual, hip Shu Han than for gloomy, cold, cynical, spartan Os Alta. And definitely not suited for the coldest and most cynical of Os Alta Business men, Aleksander Morozova.

Ivan shrugged, his stoic face carefully blank, as always.

"Fedya likes it. And they make a mean cold americano" 

Aleksander let out an sceptical scoff, but followed his friend inside, there was no time for arguing and no time to look for another coffee shop, their next deposition beginning in less than twenty minutes, so he would have to, as Fedyor would say, suck it up. He was under no delusions about the quality of the coffee offered at this place, in his experience, these kind of venues were far more concerned with decorations and ambience than with the grounds they used. 

Sure enough, the interior of the cafe looked like something out of a magazine, mismatched wooden chairs and tables artfully combined, royal blue couches on top of white plush rugs creating little cozy conversation spaces, empty cages hanging from the ceiling, candles in every available surface… 

There was a small queue in front of the mahogany counter. 

"Maybe we should leave, we'll be late"

"Non sense" Ivan replied, "if we have to sip our coffee on the way back, it will still be worth it, trust me"

Aleksander was about to protest, but the words died in his throat when a costumer stepped aside, and he saw her: Dark hair piled on a messy bun atop her head, warm coffee eyes and a smile that seemed lit up the entire shop, if not the entire city. 

His mother had told him legends when he was a little kid, fairy tales about the Grisha, seductive creatures of supernatural beauty that could control the elements at will, often leading men to their downfall with their bewitching wiles. As he watched her, shinning brighter than the golden Firebirds painted on the wall behind her, there was no doubt in Aleksander's mind that this girl was one of them, a sun witch, like Sankta Alina, who had bravely walked into the shadow fold and faced the Black Heretic, breaking the spell and turning him back into a man with a true love's kiss. 

The girl turned away from them to start making the drink for the guy in front of them. 

"Sorry!" She called back, "The other barista bailed on us, so it's just me today. If you can give me five minutes, I'll be right with you" 

Ivan made a face, opening his mouth to politely decline, but Aleksander beated him to it.

"No problem, take your time. We're not in a hurry"

Ivan frowned, but Aleksander was technically his superior, so he didn't say anything. 

"Really? Thank you-" The girls eyes' met Aleksander's over the pastry display case, and froze, doe eyes making her look pretty much like a deer in the headlights. Aleks' heart skipped a beat. 

The girl shook herself,

"Right. What- um… what would you like to order?"

"Just an espresso for me, and an iced americano for my friend" Aleksander announced.

"Zoya wants a soy latte" Ivan reminded him. 

"And a soy latte" Aleks repeated, obediently.

"Perfect. I mean, sure, right away. Just let me finish this Macchiato here and I'll… make them. For you." 

Aleksander felt bad for the obviously overwhelmed girl, but he would be lying if he said her flushed cheeks and nervous fumbling wasn't the cutest thing he had ever seen. 

The time seemed to fly as he watched her, dainty little hands dexterously turning nobs and levers and pressing buttons, until she finally stepped forward, presenting them with two drinks on the counter, but Aleksander only had eyes for her, and the way a single, rebel curl escaped her bun right under his attentive watch. His hand twitched with the urge to reach out and tuck it behind her ear. And maybe, just maybe, cup her face on the way back, stroke those adorable pink cheeks, bring her closer to him, lean in and-

"What is this?" Ivan's stern voice tore him out of his daydream.

"Um, an americano and an upside down iced soy caramel macchiato…" The girl replied, "That- that was your order, right?" 

Aleksander's heart twisted inside his chest at the uncertainty in her voice.

"Yes, that's exactly what we ordered" He reassured her quickly, closing his mouth around the straw of his designated cup for good measure. The girl gasped, eyes zeroing on his lips, making the butterflies inside his stomach take flight. 

"Delicious" he declared, blindly handing her a bill that the girl distractedly took and stuffed into the register, eyes never leaving his. 

Ivan wondered if either of them had realized his boss had just handed her a fifty. Gruffly, he grabbed his drink,

"Well, we should get going now. There's an important meeting and we're already late" 

Taking his boss' elbow, he practically dragged him away as the barista girl waved them goodbye.

"See you soon" It sounded like a question. Aleksander threw her a smile over his shoulder,

"Very" he promised. Ivan was starting to think he had made a terrible mistake showing him this place…

…

There was a tall, handsome dark skinned boy next to his barista when he walked into the cafe the next day, poking her in the ribs and telling her something apparently very witty if the way she threw her head back laughing was anything to go by. Aleksander felt the strange impulse to bite his hand off.

However, his unexpected desire for violence left as suddenly as it had arrived, when the sunshine girl spotted him, her face breaking into an impossibly bigger and brighter smile.

"Upside down iced soy caramel macchiato guy!"

Aleksander beamed: she remembered him. 

Well, kind of. She still had his order wrong, but to be honest, Aleksander was too happy to care. 

"That's me" He laughed, "or, you know, Aleksander, for short" 

"Aleksander" She repeated, and he could have died right there and then. His name was probably the most common name in the entire Ravka, but it sounded different from her lips. It sounded special. "I'm Y/N" she offered him her hand to shake. He took it, and swore he could feel sunlight fill his veins where his skin met hers. 

"Y/N" he tried it, loving the sweet taste it left in his mouth. Sweeter than yesterday's macchiato. A throat cleared somewhere beside them. 

"Right" She seemed to wake from the spell first, "Same as yesterday?"

Aleksander nodded,

"Of course! That was the best iced macchiato I've ever had" 

Y/N smiled again, positively glowing as she made her way to the espresso machine. 

Yeah, Aleksander could drink overly sweet coffee drinks until he got diabetes, as long as he could see that smile every day for the rest of his life… 

#aleksander morovoza #aleksander kirigan #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling #the darkling x reader #fluff #coffee shop au

[simluvbot]

jay as your boyfriend <3

a/n: sorry this is so messy but </3 requests are open btw so 🥺🥺 feel free to request anything fluffy (check pinned!) <3

I bet he’ll even STUTTER when y’all are new at dating and he’s trying to compliment you

It’s reallyyyy new to him at first, so you knew he was really nervous when his ears got red around you on your first date ):

It’s reallyyyy new to him at first, so you knew he was really nervous when his ears got red around you on your first date ):

But then after a few months and as he fell harder for you, he got so comfy and soon became the confident, shameless jay 😁

Still will never catch him simping over you in front of the members 🙄

Is such a gentleman ):

Holds doors open for you ✔️

massages you when you have sore muscles after being busy the whole day from work/school ✔️ (a/n: this as a seperate imagine is a wip !!)

sends you FLOWERS 😭😭✔️

kisses your hand ✔️

I would like to elaborate on the massages he gives you because we all know how good jay is at giving them pls !!

Will sit behind you on the sofa as he massages your shoulders

Kisses the back of your neck as he does so ):

When you both have a bath together he will sometimes sit behind you in the tub so he can massage you from behind <33

Is so so in love with you

You will sometimes catch him staring at you and you’ll be like ‘what ??? Is there something on my face ?’

And then he’ll turn around to try to hide his smile as you giggle at how he tries to act like his ears aren’t scarlet red hehe

Truth is he was staring at you and simply thinking about how beautiful you are and how in love with you he is

He does this very often. yes u bet

Does this thing where he rubs his thumb on the back of your hand );

MATCHING COUPLE OUTFITS!

if you’re dating him NO WAY will he let himself be caught with u wearing something ugly and lazy asf out with him while he looks like a million dollars 😐

Ofc, your boyfriend IS a fashion icon so expect him to sometimes dress you up and pick your outfits

Seriously even if y’all are both just going to buy some things from the supermarket and he sees you heading towards the door wearing ur onesie...

🙄🙄🙄🙄

Will drag u back to the bedroom and make you wear something more presentable (meaning he chooses your outfit 😁)

Even when he goes out shopping for clothes for himself he might end up buying something for you if he thinks you will like it that would suit you

He LOVES buying outfits and styling you! He feels so warm whenever he sees you both matching of you wearing something HE chose out for you ):

Takes his #Tojays_fashion photos with you (:

Y’all have matching bracelets🥺

Smiles every time he looks at his because it just reminds him of you PLS

Lots of late-night dates with you!

He likes to go out to fun places where you both can walk around together, like around top-end fashion streets, funfairs, cinemas, etc.!

Late night drives with jay >>>>

Holds your hand while he drives with the other

(a/n: Edit of jay driving at the end of this headcanon!! 😳)

Such a considerate boyfriend

First time you take his hoodie he spent ages looking for it and was low-key so annoyed that he couldn’t find it ?? Because he was planning an outfit for it and he swear he wore it last time he met with you so surely...?

But then he sees you wearing the exact hoodie he had been searching for

And he was about to shout at you I stg bUT you just looked so cute ?? And innocent like you don’t just steal his hoodie that he was searching for days

Also the fact that it boosted his ego 😭

It looked so good on you, knowing that everyone would know who you belonged to

So he instead only lightly scolded you and pretended like he didn’t like it 🙄

Honestly is such a romantic

Will prepare candle-lit dinners for you with rose petals scattered on the floor leading you to the table

Turns up to your anniversaries wearing a suit looking SO good

On your 6 month anniversary he gives you a couple ring ):

He says it’s so that you both are still bonded together even if you’re not able to physically be with each other

Such a good boyfriend !! He is literally so perfect

If anyone DARES hurt you, all he sees is pure red with how angry he is. Seriously gets so worked up he wants to fight whoever hurt you so sometimes you need to calm him down, and he’ll instead just hold you as he realises it’s his support that you need

Even if he rarely ever says it in front of anyone else, you are his baby, and no one is allowed to make his baby cry.

Kisses with jay!!

Very soft and gentle );

but phewww when y’all are in the mood it’s seriously so passionate

Likes it when you place a hand on his thigh and he holds your neck 😳

Steamy kisses with jay are so so hot it’s almost overwhelming 😭 because he is so skilled with his lips it’s hard to keep up with them and all you can do is breathlessly follow along as he takes charge of the kiss

Likes to hold you close whenever ):

Will be the type of boyfriend that will randomly pull you in just so he can latch onto you

You’ll be standing in front of him and he’ll then suddenly pull you in by the waist of just wrap his arms around you

Places a kiss on the back of your neck ):

Your parents love him

so so well mannered and polite

Even if he pretends to be cool and unbothered 99% of the time you get that leftover 1% is all spent up on him being soft for you 🙄

Only in private though!!

But other times he is so down to show you off.

Having such a beautiful partner like you on his arm ??? Wowee

Subtly will boast about you in conversations with his members

Like, ‘oh cool you visited the new bakery? haha y/n brought me a pastry from there like two weeks ago when it first opened lol.’

Learns how to say cheesy things to you in french do you don’t understand it but he is still able to tell you how much you mean to him

‘Je vous aime.’

‘tu représentes le monde pour moi.’

Slow dancing with jay in the dark is a CONCEPT !! It just is okay.

Picks on you a lot tbh lol

Lovingly though ofc !! Only teasing

So many compliments too

Overall just perfect ):

jay best bf

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