#12. Drink Green tea

[weightloosesblog]

How To Lose Weight Without Exercising?

Does working out matter if you're not eating right? You're working hard to burn off calories at your workouts but it's hard to burn off a bad diet.

Try to replace normal carbohydrates with complex ones. Complex carbohydrates high fiber products like oats, brown rice etc which will make you feel full even with small servings and doesn't spike up your insulin level.

Eating fat will not make you fat. In fact, fat is essential in your diet.

Proteins are essential.

Focus on the macros - Carbohydrates (the right kind), Proteins and Fat.

Cooking medium - Butter, ghee or coconut oil ‍

12. Drink Green tea

Green tea has really emerged as one of the best health drinks that are out there. Several studies have shown that the massive range of antioxidants that green tea contains helps burn fat and boosts metabolism + it comes packed with less calories. Right after breakfast and lunch is a good time to have it because your metabolism rate is at the highest. Green tea will ensure that it’s faster further helping you digest better. ‍

13.Use whey proteins

[what-the-fuck-khr]

my favourite game is sending my sister posts criticising the beauty industry for all the shit they’ve brainwashed women and young girls into thinking they need to do and then she either says smth like”but they want to do that to feel better about themselves” or ignores it bc she doesn’t want to ever acknowledge or admit that she also was and is brainwashed by the beauty industry into thinking she NEEDS to do these things to feel better about herself when inherently the problem is that she shouldn’t fucking care about it in the first place. but she does. and she always did. she was one of those high schoolers who were too scared to leave the house without eyeliner on or some shit. anyways

like. I sent her a post saying bro this is insane this woman got fucking plastic surgery on her EARS bc she though her earlobes dropped too far and thus they were too long. I said that’s crazy. and she said “well if it makes her feel better” THE LENGTH OF HER EARLOBES!!! SHOULDNT HAVE MADE HER SELF CONSCIOUS IN THE FURST PLACE!!!!!!!

but I can’t get heated or angry bc obviously she’s also still brainwashed by the beauty industry so of course she doesn’t understand or see these things for what they are. lmfao

[stararch4ngelqueen]

just need soft sex with jason

May have gotten a little carried away but ✨🔨🫠

—

Time written - 12:23 p.m

“I think I can walk just fine, Jason.”

Jason’s tone in response is lighthearted, playful even.

“It’s romantic, don’t you think? Carrying your girl to bed—” he pauses and chuckles at your expression, catching view of that eye roll while sipping your drink.

“We’d be like that painting of the angel holding a bride,” he suggests with a wide smile. “C’mon, not the first time I’ve done it.”

“Oh my god,” you giggle, tilting your head back in exaggeration. “Wow, look at you trying to be all cute and chivalrous.”

“Hey, let’s not downplay it. I thought I was being the most romantic guy ever,” he pouts, his expression turning faux-offended.

“I guess not,” he shrugs. “If you can’t appreciate that.”

He leans against the kitchen counter, acting as if he really is hurt. Then, without warning, he turns around to face you, broad hands clutching hold of you by the waist.

He hoists you up over his shoulder without hesitation, smirking from your sudden surprised yelps. He leaves your abandoned tea mugs behind, neglecting the lightswitch as he carries you down the hallway.

“I can walk Jase—!” Your amused beginning cuts off with an abrupt gasp when a firm palm smacks down on your ass, your shirt riding up over your curves.

“Can’t walk if your feet aren’t on the ground.”

“Jason!” Your annoyed tone didn’t last more than half a second before a smile breaks over your face. Chivalry was never dead with a man like him.

Your joyous fit of giggles merely died down after he gently sets you into bed, your head settling along your minor pile of unnecessarily comfortable pillows. Jason joins you without a second thought, his broad body comfortably caging you in. Any light from the hallway shadowed out once he floods your vision, enveloping you in a blanket of safety.

Then, without word, he presses his lips against yours, gently nudging your legs apart to snugly settle in between them. His breathing grows slightly rough, his braced hands grip tightly to the sheets as he feels your delicate little fingers find purchase along his back.

One of your hands trails up and down along his spine, causing the hair on his neck to flare up. He can already feel himself getting worked up, the hunger within him getting a little harder to control.

Jason spares a hand to roam along your minimally clothed body, running his palm along the soft skin of your hips and thighs.

A soft, little hum leaves your plump lips, his hand grasping along your soft, moisturized hip. The ache that bloomed in his gut desired more of those sweet noises, biting down on your tongue before rocking his hips forward.

You might’ve been just as eager as he was, your damp panties leaving a little impact against his navy sweatpants. The paired friction makes his waistband tug down, exposing the taunt v-line visible by lack of boxers.

“Jason,” you whimper out his name in the midst of him proceeding to litter your neck with kisses. He knows what you’re going to ask, he’s well aware of it. All he wanted was the green light to do it, one word to allow him this privilege.

“Yeah baby?” He murmurs against your skin, anxiously awaiting permission.

“Please.”

Such a gorgeously spoken sound, accompanied with a pretty bloom on those supple cheeks.

Jason groans as his body shivers. As much as he wants to control himself from going too fast, he wraps his arms around your legs, hoisting them up around his waist as he gives in.

With resuming where he left off, body hands running further up your body. You wore no bra to sleep, per his advantage. Pulling off the very shirt you borrowed from him to sleep in, he’s pleased with the sight of your breasts gently bouncing after momentarily sitting up.

“Oh my God,” Jason utters out in the midst of a groan, his calloused palms cradling both your sweet, glistening tits. “Mmm. Fuck, babe.”

You smelled incredibly good, like sweet honey cake dipped in melted frosting, sprinkled with toasted sugar. He’d fall asleep with his nose buried into your neck nearly every night, blessed with such a comforting fragrance off your warm body every morning.

You stuck to his memory as well as his clothes, every part of you tasting as sweet as your scent. The falsified rumors of the late Queen of France’s words held the most truth when Jason thought of eating you.

“Smell good?” You teasingly hum, biting your lip from his thumbs circling both your nipples, imagining your tiny hands in comparison to his rub luscious body butter along your chest every night after your shower.

“Smells fucking amazing.” He grunts, gently pinching both your nipples in between his fingers. Whatever smart remark you’re about to make dies in the back of your throat as Jason leans down, teasing your nipple in between his teeth. You suck in a deep breath, tangling your fingers into his messy black hair.

He’d help you take another quick shower after this, for now, all he needed was you.

Four fingers hook along your thin panties while assaulting your other nipple, your hips raising to comply with him pulling them off and down your legs.

“Oh, fuck,” Jason lowly groans from such a pretty sight greeting him from in between your legs, teal eyes heavy lidded with overpowering lust.

Jason shifts himself closer, raising your hips off the bed to rest further up along his lap. Both thumbs caress the smooth skin of your inner thighs before tracing around your puffy lips, one thumb nudging your clit before inserting two fingers into your pussy, pumping them at a slow pace.

Jason utters plenty of dirty, feverish promises as he pumps his fingers in and out at a quickening pace, his thumb moving in fast circles around your throbbing clit. He can’t wait to feel your rosy walls squeeze around him, muttering in between a handsome chuckle that your pussy is crying for it, gushing around his fingers so quickly.

Purplish plum colored hickies coat your inner shoulder as he draws a slow, modest orgasm from you, hooking his fingers with every buck of your hips, making you quiver and squeal.

Prayers composed of his name alone continuously leave your tongue, your pussy drooling as he removes his fingers, strings of arousal connecting between both digits. Chest heaving while Jason sets you back down, glazed over eyes watch his free hand tug down his constricting pants, pulling himself free from his confines.

He strokes himself with his wet fingers, further coating the tip of his fat, leaking cock with additional lubricant. He always knew you needed prep; not only wanted to, but needed to. He wasn’t being cocky (too cocky anyway) about his size, he was incredibly blunt about it when it came to the first time you had sex.

Even more so when he had been your first.

He never wanted you to hurt, even when the itch of impatience nagged at his brain to fuck you here and now.

His hand cradled the back of your head, fingers interlacing with your shower damp hair. To further stoke those flames, he parts your flushed lips with still damp fingers before shoving them in, tasting of salty precum and yourself as you run your tongue along them.

“Ohh, fucking dirty girl.” Jason mutters while watching, catching the crook in your lips form while sucking on his fingers. He takes your lips after retreating them, sucking on your tongue while lightly fucking himself with his hand, slicking up a majority of his length.

He guides himself closer, fighting back a grunt as the thick, heavy length of his cock rests across your slippery opening, sticky and sweet with arousal.

The both of you moan as he pushes inside, your walls stretching tightly around his girthy head. A low groan of satisfaction erupts from his chest while he sheaths himself in your warmth, his breath coming out hot and embarrassingly shallow through his nose.

“Fuck,” Jason mumbles before stifling a sharp whimper, fingers tightening on your hips in a death grip. “Shit, Princess. so goddamn tight.”

The heels of your feet digging into the back of his thighs, your nails drawing crescents into his skin. You want him as deep as he can possibly get, until you can’t remember where you end and he begins. The stretch is deliciously potent, a reminder that no matter how many times you do this, you’ll never fully get used to him. Neither of you would have it any other way.

He moves quite slow, rocking his hips in a speed that carries no pick up or roughness as he absolutely loses himself inside you. His lips roam all over your face, kissing away winces and mumbling soft apologies to your whimpers while you adjust.

Regardless of the pace, being stuffed full of his cock garnered pleasurable tears spewing from your eyes.

Your nails drag against his biceps, leaving raised lines along his muscles. He quietly pleads for you to dig deeper, desiring for his blood underneath your nails, wanting your marks to affect him for as long as possible.

The stinging pain has the desired effect on Jason, who spews out a sharp kiss as he thrusts into you hard once. The bed squeaks, the mattress buckling in the frame as it thuds against the wall.

A little cry leaves your mouth, your hips hitching up until your walls swallow him whole. Skin directly flush against skin, him buried so deep, kissing your cervix directly, his blunt head throbbing all against your sweet spots.

“Shhh,” Jason exhales against your cheek, both hands cradling your cheeks with eyes full of guilt from his impatient mistake.

“Shh, babe. M’sorry.” He reassuringly whispers along your lips, massaging soothing circles along your sides. “You’re alright, you’re okay. There’s my girl, my pretty girl .. takin’ me in so damn good.”

The gentle rock of his hips after a moment of rest isn’t subtle, much softer than either of you have had yet, but hot. So genuinely hot that the pure compassion between two star struck lovers almost makes up for the lack of speed. Two, aroused bodies taking in on such erotic pleasure as they made love for the first time all over again.

Jason catches your lips in a messy kiss as he plunges into you again and again, skin softly patting against damp skin.

Your lips travel along his sharp jaw, looking for the one spot by his ear that almost always makes him unravel each time. He tenses as you find it, cursing richly in your ear before grasping you closer.

“G-God fucking damn, Princess, you’re killing me,” he grunts out, growing a little louder before his voice cracks, gifting you a symphony of eagerly impatient whimpers whilst fisting handfuls of bedsheets, finally rutting into you just a little faster.

You can tell from the sloppiness that he’s close, and you’re not far behind.

You know every one of his weaknesses. Hell, you were at the top of that list, and it scared the shit out of him. Now, it makes him feel secure. And it’s in that security that he gives you everything.

His hips stutter as he fills you with thick, heavy ropes of cum, forcefully buried deeply with each staggered, drawn out thrusts. A cracked whisper of your name is all the warning he gives before flying over the edge, dragging you down with him shortly after.

You didn’t care if he finished first, all that mattered was the stark beauty of him that displayed across his face while he did it. Furrowed brows, eyes screwed shut in euphoria.

“I love you,” he chokes out, grunting heavily in your ear while hugging you against him for dear life, muscular arms slipping under your arched back, his pelvis rocking deliciously against your sensitive clit. “I love you I love you, I fucking love you—“

“I love you too,” you whimper out during a shudder, overstimulation creaking up and down your spine. You have him in a death grip, legs tangled tight around his waist, arms still tightly secure around his shoulders.

Your most favorite expression on him was the relief that followed after the euphoric tension diminished. Facial muscles melting as every inch of stress vanishes from his body, coupled with the satisfaction of doing so with the woman he so dearly loved.

His most favorite expression on you was the beautiful glimmer in your eyes after opening his. Gorgeous irises full of crystalline tears, tinted pink with satisfaction and awe of doing so with the man you so dearly loved.

[honestsycrets]

enfócate | tutor!miguel o'hara x reader

❛ pairing | tutor!miguel x student!reader, fake boyfriend!peter x reader

❛ type | explicit

❛ summary | jess is clear: miguel o'hara is a terrible boyfriend. he'll inevitably hurt you-- but peter has other ideas. or, you blow miguel in a library.

❛ tags | spanish tutor!miguel, bratty reader, a kiss with Peter, Miguel's jealousy, bjs, fake boyfriend!peter, slight obsessive qualities, fuck buddies, undefined relationships, fuck boy Miguel.

❛ reqs fulfilled | see here.

❛ sy's notes | the pov on this piece bothers me, it jumps between reader and Miguel. however, i did write two separate pieces for this request (a combined 25 pages vs my usual 11/12). so, i decided to meld them together to create this piece. anywho, if it bothers you, i understand! ❤️ I yoinked a lot of the Spanish from my Spanish learners textbook, hopefully, it's acceptable.

He knew he wanted you from the first day he saw you in the tea cafe. 

Jess and he rarely visited the tea shop. It was settled on the edge of campus. Close to the social sciences and arts, but far from the work he did in the Genetics department. As a Ph.D. student, however, not all the work was done in the lab. Jess liked to see the different types of people that came to this tea cafe, where the chair cushions were fluffy emerald pillows and plants hovered overhead.

“Miguel? What's---” 

You stood apart from the other students with their sloppy, half-cropped, or frumpy appearances, there was a particular care you took to dressing. It was the embroidered bow in your hair that drew his attention. When you left to fetch a refill of chai, he noticed the soft, frilled socks in tiny ankle boots. He just knew you would taste sweet, leering as he watched you at the drink bar. Jess glanced in your direction, the way you adorably bowed your head after the tea artist gave you your drink, and just knew. Jess looked over her shoulder. 

“Not her.”

Jess’s voice was a drawn-out sigh of your name, punctuated by her fist beating the table. Miguel perked at the mention of your name. Oh, so she knew you. She was probably sick of his shit. Good, he was also sick of being used as a vibe check for the lesbians she wanted to pick up.

“Don’t you have enough side pieces?” 

Miguel didn’t respond. 

“She probably has a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Look who she's with.” 

That finally got a response. 

“You don’t know that,” he kept his eyes straight ahead. You caught him staring, wiggling your little fingers in a hello as you sat at a table. "I want her."

You sat with an incredibly frumpy, annoying photography student who once took his picture for the lab website. Could he be… his attention wavered when you pulled out a book: Español para el siglo. His lips quivered into a wildly sardonic grin. Oh no, no no. It was too easy. 

“You’ll ruin her. She’s too innocent.” 

He leaned in. 

“Are you going to help me or not?” 

“Buenas tardes,” 

Two chairs and a thin desk. The small study room was more of a glorified broom closet for its students. You were lucky that there was a large window that looked out over the student union, flowers blooming up its brick siding. Bits of lush dark green ivy poked into the window’s view from the library’s tall wall. As the sun set on campus, rich orange and pink settled over the sunset on that warm Friday afternoon. At least the sight was pretty for how overwhelmingly small the space was.

It wasn’t the space that bothered you. It was your tutor.

He was big-- big big. Not just a little big, but really big. The kind of big that was on bodybuilding competitions. It made his long, blue-grey muscle shirt and grey sweats look tiny, sucked to his well-pumped muscle. The room felt a lot smaller as you looked at him, his long brown hair whipped back over his neck. His eyebrows raised on his dark forehead, arms turning one over another, a bundle of muscle.

“Ah... you're him? The man from the tea shop.” 

He pulled free his sunglasses and set them down. His warm chocolate eyes glanced from the edge of your now too-short skirt to the glint of a dagger necklace that beat between your breasts. He’s staring. Why is he staring-- you finger the dagger between your thumb and index fingers, soothing yourself with the manipulation.

“Miguel.” He warmed, pulling the seat out beside him. His voice was buttery and smooth, almost like rich caramel. The lilt in his voice lightened, inviting you to take a seat by him. You should. You thought. Sit down. “Siéntate." 

You stared.

"I said sit down.” 

That was a bad idea. You paused, slipping the bag down from under your shoulder and onto the beige tile by the door. Miguel watched every slight movement. That’s fine. It’s natural to do that. You tugged the bottom of your skirt and took a seat beside him. Miguel pushed the chair back in, pushing your chest to the edge of the desk space. Oh-- oh boy, he was strong. Of course, he was, he was built like a-- 

“Bueno. Now you're settled. How can I help you?” 

Do that again.

“Me? Oh! I... Jess said you could help me need to pass a test,” you murmured. The four semesters of Spanish seemed relatively easy compared to being stuffed next to this Adonis in this tiny study room. Your legs settled over your skirt, hands working over one another to will down the pulse of your wily excitement. What was wrong with you? “To pass my language requirement.” 

You should have been able to do that alone but-- let’s say you weren’t the most applied to the language in your childhood. A tutor was a great alternative to embarrassment and thousands of dollars in classes. If only he didn’t look like… this. His large hand left the pasty back of your chair.

“Hm,” he paused. “¿Puedes hablar español?” 

“Sí,” you murmured. “My mami was-- well, I should have listened to her.” 

Hm. 

You want to know what Hm means. Your leg tremored on its own accord. He swept a leather bag by his side up and pulled out a thick folder, running across several tabs. Lab notes, diet plans, pruebas. 

“It happens,” he notes, sliding a page free. “Let’s see how much you know, princesa.” 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to know more, to hear the hum of Spanish bouncing off his lips. It was a world apart from your mother’s shrill screams on Saturday mornings to clean an already clean house. It held its own beauty and mystery when he spoke it. You took the page from him, setting it down on the bland tablespace by your phone, lighting up with a notification.

Jess When you meet Miguel, don’t do it.

"¿Princesa?" you asked.

"You dress like one. Don’t worry if you fail,” you plucked out a pink mechanical pencil, complete with little animated characters tightened around the wrapping. You perked at his words, choking a small smile. “I expect you to.” 

Why was he like this? You took another unfortunate look at him, his large forearm plastered over the desk, making the book he had to look like peanuts in comparison. God, he was hot-- you felt comparatively hideous, drooling over a man that was out of your league. Maybe he could be your piece of eye candy this year. Your phone buzzed along the table again. Miguel’s eyes shot to it, a frown pulling at his lips. 

Jess Don’t fuck him. He can’t keep his dick to himself.

He reaches over, flipping your phone down with an overworked smile sundering his expression. It’s almost fake. 

“Are you…” you turned your eyes to the questions on the page. “A student?” 

“Grad student,” Miguel answered. So, older than you then. “I graduated with a BA in Spanish and a BS in Genetics.” 

“Oh! A dual degree?” The man couldn’t be normal. He had to do both. “Did it… take a while?”

“No, it was accelerated.” 

He was unreal. There was no way this man was ordinary. It was physically impossible for the man to be that hot and successful. You scribbled across the page, nipping the back of your pencil at particularly hard questions.

“So you just do this for… a living?” you asked him. 

“I teach and train clients, yes.”

“Train?” 

“Gym,” Miguel set his cheek on his fist.

“I do cardio with Jess. No strength training for me.” Jess-- who suggested Miguel to you. You had some shit to bitch at her about the next time you saw her. Namely, why she didn’t warn you about Miguel. He was a boon for chaos in your life.

“I’d waste your time. I’m all marshmallow,” you pat your soft belly. “All pan dulce and burros.” 

He chuckled. 

“You have a beautiful body.” 

And that was that. You set the pencil down on a page half full of answers, glancing toward his full lips. They were quirked into an arrogant smirk. He knew the effect he had on women. He glanced to the page, then to you, his lips growing into a smile laden with arrogance. 

“Your hips--” he glanced down, “My girls couldn’t pay to get them.” 

He noticed. You supposed that the miniskirt wasn’t the best choice for meeting a new man.

“Do you talk to everyone like this?”

“No. Only the ones that look at me like you did." 

Oh. 

 If it were a game of whom ate whom up first, you had to be honest-- it may have been you. You couldn’t shoot anything back at that, angling your head down at the page guiltily. A sigh fell from his chest. His large hand came to the back of your head, cupping the thick bow on the back of your head. His fingers ran across the silk, teasing it between his fingers.

“Calm down, you’re not the first one to do it. You won't be the last,” he turned your head to look at him, large fingers combing through the strands of your hair. He chased the panic in your wide eyes, doe eyes blown wide. Your heartbeat soared into your chest, choking you there, looking for an outlet from your shame. 

“Breathe for me,” he leaned in, his warm breath tingling your ear. His cologne was clean, like the lapse of the waves on the shore back home where the tropical heat was a second skin. You listened, taking a weary, deep breath in, then out again. Again. 

“Go on.” His knuckles rapped on the sheet. Miguel’s hand fell away. You found yourself longing for it again. 

“He’s gorgeous.” 

“I told you not to fuck him," your superior, Jess said, her feet bouncing off the stairstepper effortlessly.

“I didn't-- I just, he called me beautiful.” 

“He would call anyone beautiful if it meant fucking them. Don’t fall for it.” 

You knew Jess wouldn’t say it unless she were serious. She always knew what you needed help with, where to locate a good solution, and had the right words to calm you down.

“How?” you said, louder than you intended. You were suddenly thankful for the pounding music that beat down on your ears in your school’s gym and the rush of people that came and went. “Jess, you’re a lesbian. You don’t understand-- he’s thick. Like, he’s luchador status big. Big, big.” 

“I’ve dated some thick women.” 

“And he likes me,” you said pointedly, rushing to the topmost step, remembering his words. The way he calmed you down from your embarrassment, seeming without concern for his own body. It was… sweet. “Men usually don’t like me, Jess. I’m too… soft.” 

“Okay, girl, whatever,” you were pretty sure she rolled her eyes. “Unless you’re going to be another one of his fuck toys, just ignore him.”  

“How?”

Her stare trained on the floors lapsed. Thirty and she was still going. “If you don’t want him, just fire him. What’s going to do? Come find you?” 

You stopped for the entirety of five… or ten seconds. Enough to consider her words. Enough to quite literally get plop off the stair stepper and onto the cold floor. Jess exhaled a stale breath, reaching over to jam the STOP button on your machine. Ow.

“Good job.” 

Miguel likes to tutor you. Not because you’re good at Spanish, no, for a girl that grew up with a Spanish mother, your skills are quite poor. But he likes the opportunity to have you in a room all by yourself, late at night. Wednesdays are great days for that. 

Your soft buttercup yellow dress is short today, exposing your thick thighs that take up so much of the chair. He pretends that he’s listening as you go over a list of irregular verbs, your lip pouting in response to the irregular verbs. Some were simple in their familiarity like poder with endings such as pudiste; but the plurals and other irregular verbs, you pouted at. It was cute. 

“Miggy, it’s not funny, ” Oh, nicknames now. Miguel throws a glance at your glossy lips, undoubtedly sticky but oh so soft looking. 

“I never said it was.” 

“You’re smirking.” 

“Then don’t whine,” he said. “It’s cute.” 

“Oh--” As to be expected, you shifted your hands between your legs, drawing your skirt in between your legs. He faltered and took a glance, coasting his eye over its edges and memorizing the way it fell over your skin. You’ll ruin her, he remembers Jess saying. She wasn’t wrong, he sensed the bit of it now, how close you sat-- 

“Take a break, princesa. Vocabulary-- ascendencia.” 

Rather than take a break, you turned and caught the corner of his lips in what was a terrible, cherry-red kiss that would stain his skin. But the connection of your lips, puckered in a pouting kiss on his skin, caught him off guard. 

“Descent,” you took his red pen out of his loose grip, scribbling descent by the word. Fuck. Miguel took a sip of now cold coffee. A smile kept pulling at his cheeks, looking out of the window and catching the slight reflection of your lipstick smeared across his lip and cheek, he bobs his head into a nod.

“Correcto.” 

You’re with Peter the first time you see Miguel with another woman. 

It’s at lunch. Tuesdays and Thursdays are regularly spent running to the College of Arts, waiting for Peter to get out, and a picnic. Today, you forgot to bring lunch, running off to the union hand wrapped around his elbow as he talked to you about a bright new camera lens filter.

“These new pictures are going to come out perfect! Thanks for lending me the money,” he beamed. You loved the way he talked about his art-- stopping to show you his newest pictures of the camera that hung around his neck. Peter was always good with a camera, catching you in all the prettiest angles in your trade of photos for… sponsoring a lens or whatever. Or, at least, bringing down the cost. “Look at this one. Look how pretty you look in that dress, kinda like a pin-up! We should do some’a those next.” 

Feet thumping over the pavement, you failed to sense Miguel's presence until you smelled his peppery cologne carried on the air. There, on a bench, he sat next to a girl. She was pretty, with long dark hair and soft skin. Her hand was on his thigh and his arm around her shoulder, eating the last bit of a flaky empanada-- your eyes burned, the closeness of her head on his shoulder, clearly done and finished, waiting for whatever next plan he had. You don’t want to know what that could be.

“Huh? Oh. hi Miguel!” Peter waved to your dismay. You held onto him a little tighter, wringing circles around his sleeve. Miguel spares you two a glance, his eyebrows pushing together. But he waves, lazy and short. You stifle the hot prick of tears at the corner of your eyes and yank Peter away. “Wha-- I’m coming, I’m coming!"

Days later, Peter has a plan.

“I’ve got it-- the solution to your tea guy problem! You should have told me sooner that it was Miguel.” 

Peter was very excited. Why, you weren’t sure. He liked to feel helpful. That’s why he was a photographer. Photography lets others feel beautiful and seen. He picked at your lunch, his head flopped on your thigh as he worked through his camera. 

“I’ll be your boyfriend!”

“You want to be my boyfriend?” you offered him a grape. He opened his mouth with an adorable ‘ah’ of his his lips. You slipped the grape between his lips. He chewed appreciatively. “I don’t know, Peter. Isn’t it lying?” 

“C’mon, I know Miguel. He’s macho. The kind of guy you have to make jealous. And I can do it! I’m boyfriend material. Aren’t I?”

“Sí. But I don’t think I can make him jealous.” 

It was a sunshiney day, sprawled out at lunch on a cool picnic blanket, tracing the clouds when you heard his voice. Soft, smooth, inviting. Your head spun around, this time with a lean blonde-haired girl-- her legs were long, tummy nice and flat, blue eyes shining like little sapphires set in her pale face. She swooned on his arm. The perfect sorority princess. What if he called her princesa, too?

“--close lab with me--” 

“I can do it myself.” 

Miguel’s eyes caught yours, raising his hand lazily to greet you as he walked down the sidewalk, undoubtedly back to his genetics lab on the other side of campus. Over where brilliant boys and girls and theys were, rushing through accelerated scientific programs while you figured out how to fix broken artifacts. He lived in another impossible world. A realm far away from Peter and you: photography and the maintenance of culture and art.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Peter's eyes were glossy with concern. “It’s okay. We don’t have to-- did I say something wrong?” 

You shook your head. Peter sat up, his eyes bounced up-- from Miguel over his shoulder to your sudden sad eyes. Peter set his hand on your cheek, the fibers of his soft pink cardigan tickling your jaw. Your eyes tore from Miguel, whose pace became sluggish as if steps along took immense effort. Peter’s nose bumped against yours, clumsy and oh so Peterish-- his hand on the middle of your back, his warm but cracked lips swallowing the gasp that tumbled from your lips. He tasted of sweet fruit, the sloppy lunch you shared, and a silly comfort. 

He watching? Peter murmured against your lips. 

You nearly forgot to return the kiss, captured in the way Miguel stared-- something in his warm brown eyes was almost wounded. Peter shoved you onto the picnic blanket, a soft sorry murmured under his breath as his thin frame fell between your legs. Miguel stomped away, his bumbling blonde rushing to keep up. 

“Oh yeah,” Peter rolled over onto his back, crossing his legs one over another. You watched Miguel stomp past the tall hedges, out of your line of sight. “He’s gonna be mad at you.” 

“Peter!” 

Miguel was still in a bad mood hours later. 

“¡Qué surpresa!” he murmured, offering you your paper blotted with red circles. “You did remarkably shit on this test. Do you focus on anything? Or just Peter?” 

“Perdona me.” Your focus was shot with his consistent presence in your life. Not that he could appreciate that. 

“How long are you going to keep wasting my time?” 

“Are you talking about the Spanish or--”

Miguel set the red pen down, a sharp slam snapping the pen under his force. The fragile plastic snapped into shards of plastic. He flicked it away, paper and pen both, his large hand flexing in and out of a closed fist. You traced the tracks of his veins along his forearm.

“Are you mad that I kissed you?” 

“Stop.”

“Or are you angry that Peter did?” 

 “Don’t touch me.” 

Though he said that, you didn’t listen. You slid out of the chair and in between his spread legs, your hands trailing his handsome jawline. He jerked back when your lips caught his, the legs of his chair hitting the wall. Though he said no, his mouth opened to your kiss, and his palms flushed against your soft cheeks. You pinned him between your body and the wall-- and though you were sure he’d quickly whirl you off if he really wanted to, he didn’t. His tongue pushed into your mouth, owning yours. His hands skimmed your back, trailing lower and lower down your deep red dress until he connected with your ass. 

“You need to stop.” Miguel broke from his kiss. Though he said that, he brought you onto his lap. You felt little in his large arms, his hands guiding your hips over his crotch. “Before I do something you’ll regret.”

You listened to the sounds of the library’s floor. The scrunch of take out into the trash, the sing of a door opening and closing. It was dinner time. Most everyone had gone to get their snacks— and here you were, looking down at Miguel with rapt eyes. 

“Peter is just a friend.” 

“A friend who happens to jam his tongue down your throat,” he turned the word over on his tongue and found offense in it. “Now why do I doubt that?” 

“He only wanted to help.”

“By kissing you?” 

Your fingers trailed his jaw, dipping back down for another kiss if only to say you could. That Miguel couldn’t tell you what to do. A sound of frustration ripped up his throat. You felt him, his dick twitching to life behind those sweatpants. He felt big. You bit your lower lip— a movement that didn’t escape his attentive eyes. 

“By making you as jealous,” You slid off his lap and onto the dirty floor. But as you lifted a hand, cupping his dick through the heavy fabric, he couldn’t bear to stop you. 

His lips pulled in a wicked grin, your soft palm stroking along his length. He hooked his thumbs into his sweats, yanking them down over his knees and onto the floor. His cock kissed his belly, straining with droplets of moisture at the tip. Miguel set his hand on your shoulder and forced you to heel on the floor. His temperament evened out. “You were jealous.” 

“Yes--” you murmured. “Are.. those girls, are they special?” 

“Special? No, none of them are.” 

“I want to be.” 

“That so?” Your soft hands trailed along the dark hair on his calves, up his thighs, settling your nose where his muscular hand tightened around the root. He wrenched his swarthy hand along his length, drawing along his veiny cock shamelessly. "Let's see how much you do, princesa."

“Please.”

“Aquí se habla español.” Miguel teased. Your fingers dipped down, small tickles of your fingertips as his heavy balls. He watched you massage them with half-lidded eyes, his lips pursing in a pleased hum. 

“Por favor.” 

“Abre,” you did, sliding your soft mouth open, a well of saliva on your tongue. Miguel slid himself into your warm mouth, a ruptured groan fizzing in his chest. You didn’t want to be too loud— someone might look into the small window on the door, and see you on your knees between Miguel’s thick legs, sucking his cock down when you should be going over that test you just failed. 

You caught the salty beads at Miguel’s top on your tongue, sliding sloppily around his thick head, and lapping at his slit for more. Your soft hands stroked along his length, clumsy and shy. He hummed in approval, a sound you were more than thankful to elicit. Miguel took a fist full of your hair and drove himself into your mouth, your tongue stroking the underside of his length. 

“Pero mira esto,” Miguel wrenched his head in your hair, grabbing handfuls of it in his palm. “You can focus on something. Sucking my dick.”

Even if you wanted to look up, Miguel drove your head down onto his dick, the dark, trimmed tuft of his pubic hair tickling your nose. He drew his hips back. You nearly pulled off him, if not for his hand assuring that you wouldn’t move off of it. Drool coursed down from your lips, soaking your chin and neck, connecting to his cock as if it were a spiderweb. Your cheeks flushed with blood— you must have looked a mess. 

“Coño," Miguel tutted with his tongue, grasping his phone. Your lips pursed around his tip, eyes flickering up to catch the lens of his phone camera on your ruined face. A picture or a video, you weren’t entirely sure. Only that it sent thumps of pleasure down your core to know he wanted to record it, keep it close. You suckled along his sensitive head, working his moans free. He set his phone aside. 

Miguel stood and dragged your head along with him to pin you between the ledge of the desk space and his wonderful hips. His hands slipped behind your head, keeping you still and steady, driving himself deep into your mouth. Past your tongue, down your throat, it felt like he hit parts of you that you could only dream of. You struggled with his size, choking the urge to swallow him when he forced you to hold him there. As if your throat was just a hole for his pleasure. Your sad attempt to suckle him down was tempered by the rocking of his hips, his needy face fucking. Your eyes screwed shut, bits of color dancing behind your eyes, the easiest way to deal with this was to focus— on the way he tasted, the scent of his fresh body wash, the light judder of his hips as he came close. 

"Hah-- ay, qué rico," his nails scraped the back of your neck, sloppy and undefined thrusts filling your throat. He spurts thick ropes of his cum down your throat and mouth, withdrawing to jerk the last bursts of his cum over your lips. Miguel’s breath fell from his lips in heavy gulps, meeting yours down on your aching knees. Strings of coughed-up cum connected your sodden lips to his cock, globs of his seed slipping between your breasts. You ached. 

“Tate quieta.” 

You don’t know where you’d go, your palms catching yourself on the floor. He snapped another photo, humming appreciatively. Miguel reached into his gym bag, pulling a sweaty shirt free. Your fingers dipped into his warm cum that spattered across your warm chest, drawing it to your lips. He tasted salty, tangy, and just right.

"You look so-- so beautiful, princesa, just perfect," Miguel bent down, wiping the rest of his mess from your chest and face, gently stroking away all evidence of your face fucking before cleaning his cock and tucking himself away into his sweatpants. He chucked the t-shirt back into his bag, glazing his eyes over your hazy, exhausted eyes. He crouched down. 

“Rule one, I never share my women,” he settled his knuckle under your chin, urging you to look him in the eyes. Something told him you wouldn't be as easy as the others, but for some reason, he shrugged the thought aside. “As long as I'm fucking you, you date no one but me. If I find out you are, we're done. Am I clear?”

He was a walking red flag. But for once, in your good girl life, you wanted that. You wanted to fuck in the library-- against the genetics building late at night-- to kiss him during a sunny picnic. More than you wanted a lot of things. His eyes went soft with your answer. 

“Claro que sí, Miggy.”

He loves it when he gets what he wants.

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS:

🍇DIONYSUS; God of Wine making, fertility, theater, festivity, and insanity. 🎭

author's note: I had a sudden idea about writing some headcanons Camp Halfblood demigods being claimed and what it's like for each respective god and cabin, followed by a small blurb afterwards. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! The order is not in order of the cabin numbers. [PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST]

You get claimed in an untypical manner. You heard of demigods waiting for a sign of their godly parent claiming them, with a glowing symbol above their head. Instead, when you get introduced to the camp members, Mr. D appears carrying a can of diet coke and casually states “No need to put them in the Hermes’ cabin. They're one of mine's”

Cue the record scratch. This immediately brings a lot of confusion and gossip. Many eyes look between you and Mr. D who doesn't seem bothered at all. You saw Chiron sigh and place his hand to his face, giving your godly father a disappointed headshake. Then you hear Castor and Pollux yell that they have a new sibling that they didn't even know about?!

You get a lot of looks of sympathy and jealousy. You don't figure out why until a little bit later on. Chiron fills you in with a reassuring voice but also speaks with an exasperated tone to Dionysus 

Although you guys can't make wine or touch anything alcohol related, you did inherit Dioynsus' wine making skills. This includes also being good at making infused drinks or mixing drinks that range from mixing soda flavours together to making your tea blend. Even if the flavours shouldn't work together or whatever the drink type you're making, you just can. You are your own personal barista.

Putting this first and out of the way, you're both in a blessed and awkward situation where you are able to see and interact with your godly parent. Mr. D tries to treat you like every other demigod in Camp Halfblood, and that makes it awkward when you don't know if you should call him “Dad” or “Mr. D”, but at the same time, you know you have it better then others. 

It doesn't mean Mr. D doesn't keep an eye out. When you dedicate your offerings to the gods and look at him when you do it, you can just see Dionysus’ face soften and his eyes have a hint of affection. 

Don't ask how you or your other half-siblings came to be if Mr. D was sentenced to Camp Halfblood. You won't get an answer from but at least you know you're not alone and the twins are glad to have a baby sibling. Get ready for the youngest sibling treatment. 

Dionysus is the God of Theatre so you have a theatrical flare. Even if you're introverted, you're not exempt; this can be applied in how you do certain things or be rather convincing at times. If you're extroverted, well, you're automatically the Theatre kid. 

This turns out to be rather useful in events like Capture the Flag in a state of mania. When the heat of the battle starts to get to you, you feel your godly parent's power begin to rise in you and you can use that theaters flair to rouse your teammate's spirits up. You can also get a bit maniac and effect your teammates and enemies alike and become rather terrifying. 

You have a bit of a green thumb so you can find some solace with the Demeter kids. However, unlike the Demeter kids who can just make plants grow and flourish, your green thumb only really applies to plants you have an interest in like Dionysus with his grapes…or now strawberries. Regardless, you can keep a houseplant alive at least. 

Aside from a few very selected people within Camp, you're one of the few people who has seen Mr.D's true form. Not his godly form or the Mr. D you've seen, but the form he usually shows in front of mortals. Then it becomes very obvious how your other parent became so enamoured. You thank him silently for taking up his current form because you’re not going to be ready to hear about Mr. D being a DILF.

“Welcome to Cabin 12!” greeted Castor and Pollux as they opened the door to the cabin. You looked inside and saw how lived in the cabin was. It was clear the twins didn't expect to have another sibling and judging by the absolute shock that your shared father was supposed to be stuck in Camp, they really didn't expect him to have another mortal child.   

You also noticed on one of their nightstands there were stacks of Coke and Pepsi, each belonging to one of the beds. There were copious amounts of it, and you wonder if being a child of Dionysus was a prerequisite of having a drink as your go-to drink. Like wine fo Dionysus…though you heard he had to switch to Diet Coke due to his punishment. 

“Yeah, sorry for the whole…mess,” said Castor as he looked sheepish. “Pollux and I weren't expecting anyone else to be here, especially since it's been so long since we've first arrived. And you know, our dad, being, well-”

Pollux cleared his throat, “What Castor means, despite everything, we're thrilled to have a baby sibling. We've always been together so we're not that alone, but every now and again, we kind of get envious of the other cabins and having other siblings.”

You smiled when the door is knocked and a new bunk bed is being brought in, Castor and Pollux grinned at you. “Come on, let's get your stuff and space ready, and let's go see our dad.”

[letmesleeponu4sumtime]

I made myself tea for the first time in weeks. Ive been drinking tea but I haven’t prepared tea with the conscious thought behind it; it hasn’t been a meditation. So tonight, in an effort to clear my head I brewed barley tea (hot) changed my bed sheets, cleaned up my night stand and lit my (2nd) favorite green tea incense; my number one being the Muji green tea. I’m sitting in the stillness of my room lingering in the silence 12:37 brings. I have an itch to wake up early tomorrow before work and gua sha my face. I’m tapping into my rituals I’ve neglected. Lowering my screen time too, I like being at peace with myself

[sinnersweets]

DogDay x Reader part 13

<-----part 12, part 14----->

“You have a lovely home Mrs. Y/N.” “Why thank you Mrs. Jackson.” I spoke while drinking some tea I made. It was the home inspection today and even though everything seemed to be going well I was a nervous wreck. “Everything seems to be in order as far as safety measures; remind me how old is Damian?” While setting down my teacup I said, “He is seven years old but will be eight tomorrow.” I couldn’t help but smile big. I plan on telling him for his birthday tomorrow. “Happy early birthday to him. Now comes the boring part; the questions. I’m going to go down my list and you just answer truthfully alright?” I nodded my head. “Good, now let us begin.” 

At first, she just went through how the interviews went with my family which thankfully my mom was on her best behavior and didn’t give her crap about me. Next, she asked me when my birthday was to ensure I knew it and for my birth certificate to verify that I was twenty-one. “Now Mrs. Y/N, how long have you and your husband been together?” She asked me that while I was taking a sip of my tea which caused me to almost spit it out. I set down my cup and said, “I’m not married Mrs. Jackson.” She looked up at me before looking over to my wall where mine and DogDays picture was. Why do people keep assuming that me and DogDay are married by that one photo?! “Oh, I apologize Ms. Y/n. Normally it’s couples that adopt, not just one person.” “Technically me and him are a couple just not married.” “I see.” She scribbled down something on her clipboard before going on with the questions. 

--------------- 

“Were the questions really that horrible Angel?” DogDay asked me. We were both by the duck pond watching our group play red light, green light. I sighed and said, “Maybe not horrible but long. She asked about my motivation for wanting to adopt, my fertility, childhood, family relationships, financial situation, criminal history, my history of residence, if I knew any other languages, my health, religion, if I knew how to discipline a child, understanding abuse and neglect. My god I should’ve just written a book about myself and had her read it!”  

DogDay chuckled as I threw my hands up in the air. “It’ll all be worth it in the end Angel.” “Yeah, I know.” I looked over and saw Damian was now the one in charge of the game. “Have anything planned for Damian tomorrow?” DogDay shook his head no. “He doesn’t really like celebrating his birthday. The last time we celebrated it was when he was five. After that he asked if we could just pretend that his birthday doesn’t exist, but I always give him a card.” I frowned as I listened to DogDay speak. “Did he ever tell you why to stop celebrating it?” DogDay shrugged his shoulders and said, “My guess is because it’s a reminder that another year has passed and he’s still here.” I guess I could see where Damian was coming from. 

I cleared my throat before saying, “Speaking about being here, do you ever wish you could leave?”DogDay chuckled and laid down on the grass looking up at the ceiling. I followed his actions and laid down as well. “All the time Angel. Now that I have you, more than ever.” He grabbed onto my hand and squeezed it. I turned my head, looked at him, and smiled. “Oh? And just what would you want to do if you could leave?” “Let’s see, well I’d like to take you on a date, go on car rides, run around at the park. Really do anything with you Angel. Oh, and play soccer with Damian, he loves soccer.”  

I turned my head back up towards the ceiling. Now knowing that Damian liked soccer it gave me a theme to decorate his room. “If someone were to, I don’t know, buy you out from here how would you feel about that?” DogDay looked over to me with a surprised look before saying, “Are you saying you’d buy me out of Playtime Angel?” I sat up and leaned against my hands while saying, “Well I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t really know if I could, but it doesn’t hurt to ask right?” DogDay gave me a soft smile. It looked like he was going to say something but then a kid yelled out, “Miss DogDay!” 

Mine and DogDays head turned toward the child. “We wanna play hide and seek!” I got up from the ground and walked over to Aaron, the little boy who called out to me. “We can play hide and seek after your guy's nap time, okay?” “Yay!” Aaron took off screaming in delight. I then felt a kiss on top of my head. “You’re gonna be a great mom Angel.”  I looked up at him and smiled. "You think so?" "I know so. In fact you'll be a great mom to Damain and to our very own kid." "Thank you- wait what?!"

--------------- 

“Thank you for coming to see me Ms. Y/N.” I took a seat inside Stellas’ office, not sure why she called me in. “May I ask what this is about?” She reached in her desk and pulled out a file. While she handed me the file she said, “Please read this over and tell me what this is.” I slowly opened the file and started reading what was inside. I only read the first few words before realizing what this was. “This is the email I got when I was hired.” “Yes, it is. Oh, before I forget; congratulations. Damian is now legally yours.”  

My eyes widened. “Really?! That’s wonderful!” Even though she just told me that Damian was now legally mine the atmosphere in the room was still off. “Is there something else Stella?” She took off her glasses and said, “Yes. Please flip through and read what I have highlighted.” I did what she told me, and I found where she had highlighted. As I started reading my eyes grew wide. I looked up at her and said, “I can’t work here anymore?!”  

She nodded her head. She also looked sad from this. “I’m sorry Ms. Y/N, but that is company policy. If you adopt a child here while employed, that person must resign from here. I’m really sorry.”  

--------------- 

I sat in my bed while looking at the file. I can’t believe that I had to quit! Don’t get me wrong, I’m still happy that I was able to get Damian, but now I have to leave my friends behind. And DogDay....  

My phone started ringing and I saw that it was DogDay calling me. I answered the phone while wiping away some tears. “Hey Angel!” “Hi.” “You never told me what Ms. Stella wanted to see you about.” “Oh, she was just telling me that I can take Damian. He’s now legally mine.” “That’s amazing Angel!” I stayed quiet. I felt like if I talked, I would start crying even more. “Angel? What’s wrong?” A part of me wanted to tell him the other news that I got but I couldn’t. “Nothing, just a little tired from today.” I don’t know if he really believed me or not, but he didn’t question me any further. “Oh well then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Angel. Sleep well, I love you.” “I love you too.”  

I ended the call and leaned my head back against my headboard. I didn’t want to lose DogDay, but I really wasn’t sure if he could be bought out. Suddenly an idea popped in my head. It was risky, heck even stupid, but it could work. I set an alarm on my phone for 2 a.m. and went on my laptop to see if there was any nearby land to buy. 

A/N: What do you think Angel is going to do?

[targaryenmarvel]

A Stark Legacy (2)

Wanda Maximoff x Stark!Reader

Summary: The life of a Stark is tumultuous, especially when you are the only daughter of the technology magnates. You find yourself at a crossroads, struggling to meet your father's towering expectations while also pursuing your desires. This turning point is marked by the arrival of a certain green-eyed girl, a meeting that not only disrupts your world but also sets your heart on fire. Will you finally follow your heart or conform to your father's expectations?

Warnings: Language, Homophobia, Sexism

Word count: 2,971

New York City bustled in the early morning hours as cars clogged the streets and pedestrians filled the sidewalks, commuting to and from work. You had long faced this predicament while commuting to and from Stark Industries, enduring the long traffic even when you had a driver. It had stopped bothering you, especially when you moved to a penthouse closer to the building.

Dressed in a refined suit, you strutted into the building, heading straight to your office. Agatha Harkness, your assistant, greets you with a steaming cup of coffee and the day's newspaper. "Good morning, Y/N."

"Morning, Agatha." You took a sip of the drink, walking towards your desk. "What do we have on the schedule for today?"

"9:30 a meeting with a Hammer Industries representative. 12 a board meeting. Lunch with Mr. Barnes at 1:30, a conference call with Stark Fujikawa at 2:45, and a meeting with General Talbot on licensing Stark products at 4. We also have the interviewees for my replacement coming in later today."

"You can take care of the interviews, can you, Aggie?" You asked in a honeyed voice. Although posed as a question, you knew she would do it as instructed. Yet you gave her a semblance of choice due to the close relationship you had developed over the years—a connection based not only on mutual understanding and trust but also affection.

"All right, I'll sacrifice my valuable time," Agatha responded, biting her lip as she sat in one of the many chairs and clasped her hands on the desk. "Now, give me the tea. How's the wedding planning?

You groaned, dropping the newspaper you held and reclining in the chair.

"Two weeks, and they're already driving me crazy. My mother and my soon-to-be mother-in-law," you clarified. "Bombarding me with questions at all hours. 'Y/N, how many guests are you inviting? Where will the wedding be? Do you have a dress in mind?' Why ask if they'll disregard what I say and do the opposite."

"How is that?" Agatha cocked her head, furrowing her brows at your stressed demeanor. She had expected happiness and excitement at your pending nuptials.

You spun your chair to face the vast window wall, which gave you a perfect city view. Seeing the city's vastness made you feel small, yet simultaneously reminded you of your place in the world at the top of society, a burden that followed you like a shadow.

"Bucky and I wanted a small wedding. Only family and close friends, but a Stark and a Barnes must have an extravagant wedding. Event of the year, right?"

Agatha sighed sympathetically. It wasn't the first time your father had overlooked your wishes to favor the more socially appealing action to enhance the family's public perception and reputation. She'd seen the faux smiles each time.

"Unfortunately," Agatha replied. "But it's still your wedding. Make the most out of it. After all, you only get married once."

"Once? I could end up divorcing and remarrying," you joked with a smile as you turned back toward her.

"Perhaps, but I doubt it."

"Me too," you agreed, returning to your daily paper as you considered your future with Bucky.

Given the nature of your actual relationship, it is an unconventional union, yet you could not envision marrying anyone else. Once upon a time, you dreamed of finding love, but it crashed with continuous disappointment. You remember the first time it happened at just sixteen as you overheard a conversation between your then-boyfriend and a so-called friend. He pushed her against the wall, and she let him despite acting reluctant.

"You're dating, Y/N," she said.

"Yeah, so? We all know I'm not dating her for her personality. The only interesting thing about her is her money," he responded, kissing her neck, and she chuckled before pulling him into a kiss.

Bucky snuck into your room that night, holding you in his after a distressed call. You had done the same for him the night he had confessed his sexuality to you a year later. It wasn't something you had considered before despite admiring multiple women. You had always assumed you would marry a man, but as Bucky confessed, something clicked. From then on, it was something that brought you closer together, protecting eachother.

Your families could medal all they wanted; all that mattered was that you would spend the rest of your life with a man you loved. Yes, not romantic love, but a love that made you both happy.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Today was not Wanda Maximoff's day.

Despite triple-checking her alarm the night before, the phone had not rang. The damn thing had automatically updated overnight and disabled her alarm. Wanda would have slept through half the day if not for her roommate. Now, Wanda found herself frantically rushing through her apartment with a toothbrush in her mouth and a singular high heel in her left hand. The corners of her blouse were untucked from the navy blue pencil skirt as she turned down the apartment in search of the other heel.

She felt her insides turning, anxiety filling her body the longer she scrambled around without success. I can't screw this up, Wanda thought, feeling her eyes burn with unshed tears. She had worked so hard for this opportunity. At 23, Wanda accomplished her dream and graduated with a business degree. Eager to put her degree to use, Wanda applied for various positions. Yet, she soon came to a crushing realization. No one wanted to hire a recently graduated student with no experience in the field. An entry-level position actually meant, "Do you have ten years of experience in the field?"

Wanda settled for jobs unrelated to her expertise, jumping from secretarial jobs at sales companies. What else could she do? Her family lived across the country, and she had expenses to pay. Wanda needed a job.

Throughout the years, she tried applying for better jobs but continued to be rejected. The one time she got a job offer, it came from a pervy man, and Wanda would rather not. On the verge of abandoning her quest, Wanda found her saving grace late at night at a bar when she collided with a stranger—a redhead beauty with striking green eyes and a witty tongue—on the dance floor. They quickly struck up a conversation trading numbers at the end of the night.

Three years into their friendship, Natasha's girlfriend had gotten Wanda an interview with the most prominent technological company—an assistant job, but a start into something bigger. Wanda was sure she would be able to demonstrate her capabilities and earn a better position.

Wanda's panic was warranted, considering her future depended on making a good impression, and running late was not a good start.

"Darcy, have you seen my heels?" Wanda called out in a muffled voice, trying to keep in the paste.

"What?" her roommate yelled back from her room.

Wanda rolled her eyes and spit out the paste. "My heels."

"Oh, yeah." She heard scuffling from the room next door before Darcy appeared with the missing pair. Wanda sighed in relief, hugging the shoe to her chest, and fixed Darcy with a glare.

"I've been losing my mind trying to fucking find this heel, and you had it all this time?" Wanda accused.

Darcy stepped back and lifted her hands in defense of Wanda's accusations. "First off, you dropped them in my room the last time you passed out drunk in there, and second, you have others!" She noted as if it weren't obvious.

Wanda rolled her eyes and lifted the heels in one hand. "Well, I wanted these," she countered, annoyance lacing her tone.

"Wanda, calm down. Take a breath." Darcy inhaled deeply and then released the air, instructing Wanda to do the same, and she complied. "I understand this interview is important, but you cannot let the nerves interfere with your composure. Wanda Maximoff is strong, confident, and composed, so be it."

Wanda nodded, clutching her bottom lip between her pearly teeth and staring at the floor. She dropped her shoulders, dissipating all the accumulated muscle tension.

"You're right. I need to calm down." She lifted her gaze, eyes crinkled full of remorse for her outburst. "I'm sorry about—"

"Hey, don't sweat it," Darcy patted Wanda's shoulder as she walked past her on her way out. She turned her head as she opened the door. "I'll be home late. Jane's working me to the bones, but text me how it goes."

"I will," Wanda yelled, less anxious.

Though she would occasionally peek at the ticking clock, she continued getting ready without a hitch, applying her makeup and styling her brown locks.

Wanda left the apartment with forty minutes to spare and arrived at Stark Industries with five. Exiting her Uber, she could only gawk at the massive tower, eyes twinkling in hope as she imagined her future at the company.

Wanda confidently strode into the vast entrance area, her eyes scanning every inch of the space. The high ceiling and grandiose decor made her feel small and unimportant, and her anxiety returned to full force as she stopped before the reception desk. belonging

"Hello," Wanda called, fidgeting with the bag strap perched on her shoulder as she checked the time on her phone. Three minutes. The blonde lifted her gaze from the monitor, staring at Wanda expectantly. "I'm here for an interview. I'm Wanda Wanda Maximoff."

The blonde woman hummed while obnoxiously chewing on her gum. "What department?" she asked in a flat tone.

Could she be any more unprofessional? Wanda thought, on the verge of rolling her eyes; if this was the bar for working at Stark Industries, then she certainly had a chance.

"Oh, um, it's a personal assistant position," Wanda answered, retaining her composure.

"Just a moment." The woman picked up the phone, and Wanda rocked on her heels, impatiently glancing around.

She took better notice of her surroundings: the orchid vases settled on the reception desk and the rectangular tinted window behind it, which Wanda assumed was used by security. Slightly to the right, glass double doors flanked by rose pots led further into the building. The high ceiling measured up to three floors, and in between the second and third floor, rectangular glass windows lined the corridor every so many feet, giving a view of the lobby. The place exuded life as people entered and exited. She couldn't wait to see what other wonders this place had for her.

Wanda became too entranced and startled when the receptionist called her name. She turned with a flushed face and felt glad when the blonde woman did not look at her but instead gave her directions while staring at her computer screen. Without a second thought, Wanda rushed to the elevator, nearly bumping into the exiting bodies. She focused on the digital screen, which displayed the floor number as the elevator ascended: five, ten, twenty, and the count when on. The brunette could not stop tapping her foot as it halted to let people in or out. She had to go before it became too late.

As soon as the elevator opened, Wanda rushed through the hall, following the receptionist's instructions, going past cubicles and small offices. Already late, she thought as she came upon a vacant "L" shaped desk separated from the others, giving a cue to the importance of the occupant. Her eyes settled on the giant Stark Industries logo behind the desk, desperately trying to quell her apprehension at the lack of activity—no one to greet her as the receptionist had promised.

Busy leveling her heavy breathing from nearly running, Wanda did not notice a figure approaching from an adjoining room to the side. "Ms. Maximoff, I presume," called a voice from behind. Wanda turned quickly, feeling the muscles in her neck protest at the action. Her gaze was met with an elegantly dressed and stunning dark-haired woman. Though she seemed older than herself, Wanda thought it only amplified her beauty.

"Yes, that would be me," she rubbed her hand against her skirt, wiping the forming sweat. "I sincerely apologize for my belatedness. Getting here was a hassle, but I promise it's a one-time-only problem," Wanda hastily excused.

"Oh, don't apologize." The woman waved off dismissively. "We've all been there before."

At her words, Wanda could breathe freely for the first time since arriving at the building.

"Thank you..." she drew out, scrunching her brows, waiting for the woman to say her name.

"Agatha Harkness, sweetheart," she replied, extending her hand in greeting. Wanda blushed at the term as she shook the older woman's hand. "I'm Ms. Starks' assistant. I'll be conducting your interview today. Oh, don't look so glum," Agatha joked, noticing Wanda's apprehension at the mention of being the interviewer.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Wanda cried. Already making a bad impression, she thought. "I didn't mean to—"

Agatha gave a belly laugh, silencing Wanda in the middle of her sentence. "Oh, I'm joshing with you. You have nothing to worry about, dear. Let's go into the conference room. We can continue there," Agatha said with a smile that crinkled her eyes, and Wanda felt momentarily hypnotized by the sight.

Agatha led Wanda into a room with a large oval table from the left. She was surprised she hadn't seen Agatha before, considering the only thing separating the two areas was thin glass walls.

As the interview progressed, Wanda could not help but feel foolish for overthinking. While Agatha asked her the typical questions, she occasionally diverted from the subject, joking around and talking about herself, which eased Wanda's nerves.

They were going on about Agatha's college days when she gasped in delight as she looked through the glass panel. "Oh, look dear," Agatha instructed, nodding, and Wanda turned in her seat, her sight resting on a woman.

She couldn't make out the woman's features as her back was turned, so she let her eyes roam over the expensive-looking gray suit. The attire perfectly hugged her figure, and the confident aura surrounding the woman entranced observers. She ran a hand through her hair as the other held a phone to her ear, looking down at something on Agatha's desk. As the stranger pulled her hair out of her face, Wanda caught a glimpse of the woman's features. A jolt coursed through her body, and her face reddened at the sight. Attractive, she's so damn attractive, Wanda mused, eyes settling on the woman's exposed neck as she looked upward in apparent desperation. Wanda couldn't help fall for the enchantment of her imposing beauty and authority.

"That's Ms. Stark," Agatha informed from her side, recalling her attention. "Intimidating, I know, but looks can be deceiving. Y/N's a real sweetheart... most of the time," she chuckled fondly, peering at the figure crossing the wooden office doors. Wanda gave a forced smile, mind racing at her strange reaction. "Anyhow, I've kept you here long enough, dear. I'm sure you have better things to do than hear me rant about how I joined a witch coven in college. I'll talk with Ms. Stark and let you know when a decision is made."

"Oh, okay," Wanda stood from her seat. It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Harkness."

"All, mine, dear."

When Wanda walked out of Stark Industries, her mind screamed three things: Thank God it's over; I think I did well; and OMG, did I check my possibly future boss out?

When Natasha mentioned she would be working with a Stark, she assumed it would be Tony, the oldest Stark child. Not the magnate's youngest daughter, who seemed to receive the least media coverage.

Wanda doesn't think she had heard her name before Agatha's mention. Y/N, even her name, is beautiful, Wanda mused, walking down the streets of New York.

You released a heavy sigh, slumping in your office chair, and closed your eyes, vexed after your ten-minute conversation with Justin Hammer. The Hammer Industries CEO called you after receiving your refusal to collaborate with said company. Not without a few stipulations, he continued to object to. You were tired of his persistent demands.

A soft knock reverberated through the room before the door opened, and Agatha entered with a sympathetic smile.

"Rough call?"

"Yup," you responded, rubbing your temples. "Justin Hammer. I'm letting Tony handle it next time."

"Hopefully, nobody gets hurt," Agatha said, and you cracked a smile.

"Hopefully, Tony lands a few good punches. I'm tired of that prick's face," you jested, imagining Justin Hammer sprawled on the floor with a broken nose. You bit your lip, suppressing a laugh as Agatha placed a few folders on your desk. "What are these?" You opened the first one, only to find a picture of a blonde woman and a few documents behind.

"Oh, resumes of the girls I interviewed. I thought I'd let you take a look."

"Hhm, that won't be necessary. I trust your judgment." You closed the folder, pushing the stack. "I'm sure I'll be content with whoever you choose, Aggie."

"Alrighty! Then, I'm happy to inform you I've made my decision."

You quirked an eyebrow, resting your chin on your clasped hands. "Have you now? Who's the lucky candidate?"

"Wanda Maximoff. You might have seen her in the conference room when you returned."

our

You furrowed your eyebrows, humming as you rested back on the chair. You did catch sight of Agatha with another woman, yet it was only for a second. Too entrapped by frustration, you failed to take any actual notice of the woman.

"Her file's the last one in the stack if you want to look at it," Agatha suggested at your lack of response.

"Later. Let's prepare for the conference call with Stark Fujikawa."

Later never came. The file remained unopened while you went on with your obligations.

Taglist: @sgm616 @xxsekhmet

[skin-care-news]

The 13 Best Foods For Healthy Skin

Your skin is not only the body's largest organ but also a reflection of your overall health. Maintaining healthy and radiant skin requires more than just external skincare products; it begins with the nutrients you provide your body from the inside. A well-balanced diet rich in essential vitamins, minerals, and antioxidants can do wonders for your skin. In this article, we'll explore the 13 best foods for achieving and maintaining healthy, glowing skin.

1. Salmon:

Salmon is a fatty fish that's high in omega-3 fatty acids. These healthy fats help keep your skin moisturized and supple, reducing the appearance of fine lines and wrinkles. Omega-3s also have anti-inflammatory properties that can soothe skin conditions like eczema and psoriasis.

2. Avocado:

Avocados are packed with healthy fats, vitamins E and C, and antioxidants. These nutrients help keep your skin hydrated, protect it from UV damage, and promote collagen production, which is essential for skin elasticity.

3. Sweet Potatoes:

Sweet potatoes are rich in beta-carotene, a powerful antioxidant that can give your skin a healthy glow by protecting it from sun damage and preventing premature aging.

4. Berries:

Berries like blueberries, strawberries, and raspberries are loaded with antioxidants, particularly vitamin C. Antioxidants help combat free radicals, reducing skin cell damage and promoting a more youthful appearance.

5. Walnuts:

Walnuts are an excellent source of omega-3 fatty acids and vitamin E, which help maintain the skin's moisture and protect it from oxidative stress.

6. Spinach:

Spinach is rich in vitamin A, which is essential for skin health. It helps repair skin tissues, prevent acne, and maintain a healthy complexion.

7. Green Tea:

Green tea contains polyphenols and antioxidants that protect the skin from UV radiation and reduce the risk of skin cancer. Drinking green tea regularly can also help combat inflammation and keep your skin looking fresh.

8. Tomatoes:

Tomatoes are a great source of lycopene, an antioxidant that can reduce the risk of sunburn and skin aging. It also promotes collagen production and skin elasticity.

9. Dark Chocolate:

High-quality dark chocolate (70% cocoa or higher) is rich in antioxidants, specifically flavonols, which can improve skin texture, hydration, and blood flow, giving your skin a healthy glow.

10. Almonds:

Almonds are rich in vitamin E, a powerful antioxidant that helps protect your skin from harmful UV rays and environmental damage.

11. Yogurt:

Yogurt is packed with probiotics, which can promote a healthy gut. A balanced gut microbiome can lead to clearer skin by reducing inflammation and preventing acne.

12. Carrots:

Carrots are another great source of beta-carotene, which can help reduce skin dryness and promote a more youthful appearance.

13. Oats:

Oats are a good source of complex carbohydrates and fiber. They can help stabilize blood sugar levels, reducing the risk of acne and promoting clear skin.

While these foods can be a valuable addition to your diet for healthier skin, remember that no single food can work miracles. A well-rounded diet that includes a variety of nutrient-rich foods, along with proper hydration, is essential for achieving and maintaining radiant skin. Additionally, don't forget to protect your skin from excessive sun exposure, get enough sleep, and maintain a consistent skincare routine for the best results. Healthy, glowing skin is the result of both internal and external care, so make these foods a part of your daily routine and watch your skin thrive.

[shadowwolflady]

Hatake Kakashi Headcanons

All right. It's time for some of my husband's headcanons. I consider Kakashi my husband. So I have to make some headcanons for him.

Known

Birthday September 15th

Zodiac Virgo

Height 181 cm

Weight 67.5 kg

Blood type O

Hair color silver/gray

Eye color gray

Missions completed 1,141

197 D

190 C

414 B

298 A

42 S

Fighting

Jutsu: Tai and Nin

Kekkei: Sharingan

Hidden ability: Kamui

Style: Tracking/Assassination specialist

General

This man is an introvert.

Favorite colors: black, grey, green (neutral colors)

Reads Icha Icha in public

Work smarter not harder

Is late to things that aren't important

Sees KIA stone in morning

Appreciates his comrades more than he lets on

If you can't find him, he is reading or working out. Most likely reading.

If you REALLY can't find him, he is trying to hide and keep away from people.

He is straightforward and doesn't beat around the bush. Especially when it is something he likes.

Kakashi does smoke, only when extremely tired and stressed, like after a tough mission. Other than that, he won't smoke.

Will. Do. 400. Crunches. For. The. Fun. Of. It. Basically any kind of exercise for the hell of it.

His spacial awareness is insanely keen.

The moment he walks into a place or room, he already has a plan in case things go awry. He has an exit path separate from the front. He already has tabs on civilians and potential allies. On top of that, he already can sense those who have ill intent.

Plays dumb so he doesn't have to interact or get involved.

Has hyper focused on something and missed a conversation point.

Has fallen out of bed.

Has fallen asleep with his gear on. Basically face plant into his bed the moment he got home. And didn't wake up until 12 hours later to go to the bathroom.

He always throws up an aloof facade so he throws his opponents off. Acting bored or disinterested is the best way to rile up an opponent's anger, which can cause them to lose a fight.

Just the fact he shows up to something or for someone is a big deal. It means he supports them or it is important to him in a way, even if he is forced.

He gets really quiet and withdrawn when tired. Usually his book isn't even out by this point.

He gets more irritable when tired. He tries to keep his comments to himself and mouth shut.

Has massive respect for kunoichi. It isn't easy in the shinobi world and a woman has to be bad ass if they want to achieve recognition.

He is a stickler for teamwork and comradery.

He has a favorite tree he likes to sit in so he can watch over people while he reads.

He has sharp canines.

Food

Favorite food Miso with Eggplant with salt boiled saury

Can cook

Likes simple meals

Doesn't like sweets

More savory food

Fish, beef, chicken, pork. In that order.

Can handle most spices.

Fast eater

Least favorite anything fried or sweet

Drinks

Social drinker

Can hold his liquor

It is rare, but in the mornings he will have Coffee, Black

Tea

Water

Behavior

He is a gentleman, walks ladies home at night and makes sure his drunk friends get home.

He will get cats out of trees for civilians.

He will help the elderly with groceries.

Calm, cool, collected.

He is quiet and analytic, he likes to stay in the background and unnoticed. He will step in when he feels like no one will be able to handle the situation.

He is usually reading or day dreaming.

He usually speaks tactfully. But he does say what is on his mind.

Originally, he was strict and by the book. But after Obito's death, he became carefree and prioritized team safety over success of the mission.

He is reluctant to let anyone close to him. He fears losing them.

Modest about his abilities.

Senses

He has a heightened sense of smell and hearing.

He has a sensitive chakra network, able to pick up on people around him and distinguish friend and foe by their chakra signature.

Hygiene

Showers at night

Smells like sandalwood and timber, earthy undertone

He brushes his teeth with mint and mouthwash

He shaves every morning.

Comb? What's that? Maybe once a week or so.

Fighting Style

Kakashi uses a ton of kicks to keep opponents at bay from getting too close to him.

INSANE core strength.

Fluid movements.

Constantly adapting to the fight, changing grips and angles of attack.

Will use chakra as a last resort.

Will use Sharingan as the ultimate last resort.

Will prefer to knock out or render unable to move. Will terminate as a last resort or if opponent is known in bingo book.

Has dealt with bingo book individuals before.

He usually waits to strike.

His Anbu training takes over and he strikes fast and lethal over power.

Lots of his fighting is based off Gai.

Kakashi knows the strongest and most powerful muscles in the body are the legs, which is why he uses them.

Sleep

He tends to sleep on his back.

He will wind up on his side.

He is a light sleeper.

Has insomnia.

He does like to nap during the day. Usually in a tree or outside. But he has napped at home.

He sleeps with a kunai under his pillow.

If he can't sleep he will read.

If that doesn't work, he will go for a walk around the village.

He enjoys taking naps with his ninken.

Chakra

First chakra affinity is Lightning

Second is Earth

Can wield all elements due to sharingan

Mental

Has PTSD

Depression

Insomnia, hence naps.

DISSOCIATION

He will have night terrors to the point he will purposely walk around the village to avoid sleep.

Has scrubbed his skin to the point of bleeding so he could get the memory of blood off.

I will post more, but this is the general list I have for him.

My other list is for that when he is with my OC, Rai.

He is so precious! He has my heart! I love him so much!

[fantasticallyfruity4]

Thinking about a coffee shop au where Steve works at Joyce’s coffee shop and I’m ngl It’s a little unhinged.

So Steve stays working at Joyce’s coffee shop, and when he starts he learns one of the resident regulars is a young pre teen girl named Max. She never orders anything, she just comes in, waves to whoever’s working (says “hi Jon” and “hey Joyce” by name but doesn’t seem to know the rest of the baristas like that), and sits herself down at a small table and starts her schoolwork.

By the second time Steve sees her and sees (what he realizes is a daily routine) Joyce bring her either some fruity sweet iced tea lemonade concoction, a matcha, a chai latte, or a mocha and give her a kiss on the cheek, he understands there’s some kind of relationship there. Which is confirmed when he watches Jonathan go sit beside her on his break and crack jokes, catching up with her (and bring her a snickerdoodle) the second time he sees her.

And he knows Joyce’s 3 kids, will, Jonathan and el. By name by story by photo. So he knows this isn’t Joyce’s kid.

So he asks Robin, one of his new co workers he’s become fast friends with.

And so he’s slowly filled in.

“The red head- Oh, max! Yeah. She’s Billy’s sister”

“Who the fuck is Billy?” Steve asks, even more lost. They don’t work with a ‘Billy’.

Robins eyes look uneasy, before they come back.

“Okay, so max is el- you know Joyce’s girl- els best friend. Her older brother is a guy named Billy”

Steve’s even more confused. Joyce’s younger kids- the twins- don’t spend much time in the shop. So why does Els friend hang out here? Well-

“Well, billy works a lot. He’s in college-the one a few blocks away- and he has a full time job and he has a part time job on the weekends and sometiems he even helps out here if joyce needs it, so he’s really busy and not home alot. And because Billy’s a broke college kid with a kid to raise he’s pretty broke so they don’t live in like, the best part of town. So Billy worry’s about her being home alone all afternoon. Sooo she comes here after school. Usually billy picks her up, sometimes Joyce takes her home, but she’s a really good kid. She stays here just so joyce can keep an eye on her and give Billy some peace of mind.”

Steve’s still confused. “Okay… but like where’s their parents? Weird situation don’t you think?”

That uneasy look is back.

“So um. Billy’s actually her step brother, ex step brother? I don’t know. But he’s got full legal guardianship and custody of her at this point and that’s the big thing that matters. Maxs mom kinda fucked off and started drinking herself to death, and Billy’s dad-“.

Robin took a deep breath. “He’s serving a few decades for domestic violence, domestic abuse, child abuse, battery and attempted homicide charges. Most of that shit on billy.”.

Him and max don’t really talk to much. It’s not that he has beef with a 12 year old he just doesn’t know her. And it would be kinda weird to go around making friends with little girls.

But one day he’s making a grilled cheese in the back, and he turns around to green eyes boring into his soul.

“Hey max. You okay?”

“Yeah. Whatcha making? It smells good?”

Steve chuckled.

“Mozzarella, Swiss, bacon and cheddar on sourdough. Fancy grilled cheese. Do you want half?”

And her eyes light up.

“Really?”

“Yeah, of corse”.

And just like that Steve is her best friend. And he makes her a sandwich every day. He understands joyce and Jonathan now. It’s very easy to just adore this sweet kid.

And when els around?

They’re the cutest thing. Young, 12 year old puppy love. It’s the cutest thing on earth. Just all giggles and smiles.

But it takes months for Steve to meet Billy. Usually he either clocks out before Billy arrives (and he now says goodbye to max by name) or when he closes it happens to be Joyce’s nights bringing her home.

So when he first meets Billy, he simply doesn’t know he’s meeting Billy.

A gorgeous, but exhausted looking fella comes in one evening, Steve’s breath is taken away.

“Hey”

“Hey”

“Can I get an americano with a pump of caramel and an extra shot”.

Steve nods. “Any dairy?” “Still have oat milk or out for the day?”

Steve looks in the fridge. “You’re in luck, handsome”

The man looks up with surprised blush.

“Anything else?”

“That’s it. What I owe ya?”

“Don’t worry about it” Steve winks.

“I told Joyce to stop doing this; she does too much for us” the pretty man chuckles and sighs and a moment of confusion hangs before Steve’s eyes light up.

Joyce? He knows- us? Too much for- oh-

“Oh my god! You’re Billy-“

And Billy looks confused. “Maxs brother, yeah? “

“Yeah yeah that’s me. Um-“

“Sorry- sorry had no idea. Sorry wasn’t a joyce coffee on the house thing that was me trying to flirt with you. I’m sorry-“

“Don’t be sorry- you were hitting on me?”

They’re both taken away from the conversation by maxs voice as the girl walks out of the bathroom.

“Billy?” “Hey shortstack” he greets, welcoming her hug. Or her flinging herself onto his back. Oh. Aww.

“What are you doing here?”

“Night class got canceled, figured I’d come getcha as a little surprise and we’d have a girls night, some scary movies anddddd some Mac and cheese?”.

And it’s kinda sweet, you know. Billy’s canceled class was clearly a surprise. To max and Joyce too. He coulda taken the night for himself. Go to a bar, a club.

But he’d rather have quality family time with his kiddo.

Steve’s a goner. He knew from those big blonde curls the second they walked in the door but now he really knows.

[melinoe-dearest09]

ME ADMIT STUFF

1. Would you have sex with the last person you text messaged?

2. You talked to an ex today, correct?

3. Have you taken someones virginity?

4. Is trust a big issue for you?

5. Did you hang out with the person you like recently?

6. What are you excited for?

7. What happened tonight?

8. Do you think it’s disgusting when girls get really wasted?

9. Is confidence cute? 10. What is the last beverage you had? 11. How many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust? 12. Do you own a pair of skinny jeans? 13. What are you gonna do Saturday night? 14. What are you going to spend money on next? 15. Are you going out with the last person you kissed? 16. Do you think you’ll change in the next 3 months? 17. Who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything? 18. The last time you felt broken? 19. Have you had sex today? 20. Are you starting to realize anything? 21. Are you in a good mood? 22. Would you ever want to swim with sharks? 23. Are your eyes the same color as your dad’s? 24. What do you want right this second? 25. What would you say if the person you love/like kissed another girl/boy? 26. Is your current hair color your natural hair color? 27. Would you be able to date someone who doesn’t make you laugh? 28. What was the last thing that made you laugh? 29. Do you really, truly miss someone right now? 30. Does everyone deserve a second chance? 31. Honestly, do you hate the last boy you were talking to? 32. Does the person you have feelings for right now, know you do? 33. Are you one of those people who never drinks soda? 34. Listening to? 35. Do you ever write in pencil anymore? 36. Do you know where the last person you kissed is? 37. Do you believe in love at first sight? 38. Who did you last call? 39. Who was the last person you danced with? 40. Why did you kiss the last person you kissed? 41. When was the last time you ate a cupcake? 42. Did you hug/kiss one of your parents today? 43. Ever embarrass yourself in front of a crush? 44. Do you tan in the nude? 45. If you could, would you take back your last kiss? 46. Did you talk to someone until you fell asleep last night? 47. Who was the last person to call you? 48. Do you sing in the shower?49. Do you dance in the car? 50. Ever used a bow and arrow? 51. Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer? 52. Do you think musicals are cheesy? 53. Is Christmas stressful? 54. Ever eat a pierogi? 55. Favorite type of fruit pie? 56. Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid? 57. Do you believe in ghosts? 58. Ever have a Deja-vu feeling? 59. Take a vitamin daily? 60. Wear slippers? 61. Wear a bath robe? 62. What do you wear to bed? 63. First concert? 64. Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart? 65. Nike or Adidas? 66. Cheetos Or Fritos?67. Peanuts or Sunflower seeds? 68. Favorite Taylor Swift song? 69. Ever take dance lessons? 70. Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing? 71. Can you curl your tongue? 72. Ever won a spelling bee? 73. Have you ever cried because you were so happy? 74. What is your favorite book? 75. Do you study better with or without music? 76. Regularly burn incense? 77. Ever been in love? 78. Who would you like to see in concert? 79. What was the last concert you saw? 80. Hot tea or cold tea? 81. Tea or coffee? 82. Favorite type of cookie? 83. Can you swim well? 84. Can you hold your breath without holding your nose? 85. Are you patient? 86. DJ or band, at a wedding? 87. Ever won a contest? 88. Ever have plastic surgery? 89. Which are better black or green olives? 90. Opinions on sex before marriage? 91. Best room for a fireplace? 92. Do you want to get married

[wardenparker]

Vampire Waltz - ch 14

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+! Word Count: 9.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Cute and cocky Max, the triumphant return of Cutie the Bat, so much fluff, dancing as foreplay, discussions of sex. Summary: An unexpected invitation yields surprising revelations, and Max has some help in planning a night that neither of you will ever forget. Notes: This week enjoy a colorized photo of Cornelius Vanderbilt II and wife Alice's palatial primary residence at 5th and 57th in Manhattan. Sold in the late 1920s, the mansion was later demolished and the current Bergdorf Goodman's location built in its place. At the end of the chapter I've added in a black and white photo of the house's ballroom, which makes a special appearance in this chapter!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13

The entirety of the journey traveling from Newport to the Vanderbilt’s house on Fifth Avenue is far more tiring than you had anticipated, and when you walk in the front door of the grand mansion — with its palatial fireplace that you have only seen in photos from the Metropolitan Museum of Art — it suddenly makes a lot more sense why people talk about travel being such an undertaking in the past. You are, in point of fact, exhausted. And dirty, which is unexpected. The kicked up dust and dirt from train terminals, unpaved roads, and all manner of other frustrations has your wishing for a bath.

That will have to wait, though, as almost the moment you walk through the door Mrs. Vanderbilt is by your elbow with an envelope. “This arrived for you this morning, dear,” Alice tells you with an impressed smile. “It seems you have been summoned.” The look of confusion on your face must be particularly lustily unintelligent because Alice Vanderbilt’s smile softens into something maternal. “Mrs. William Astor has asked you to tea, I suspect. You must have made quite an impression on her at the Brown’s ball.”

“Oh!” The imposing woman in her fifties had made quite the impression on you, as well, and you carefully open the envelope that Alice has pressed into your hand. It is exactly as Alice predicted, and you look up at the grandfather clock in the hall. “Just a few hours…” you murmur, looking over at Max, Annie and Emmanuel with concern pursing your expression. “It…seems to only be addressed to me?”

“Because the invitation is just for you.” Alice hums, as if the answer is obvious. “Do not be alarmed, most often highly statured ladies like Mrs. Astor prefer their socializing in smaller circles.” She leans in and lowers her voice. “Less gossip that way.”

“I will do my best not to embarrass any of you with poor manners.” It’s an honor, in this time and this place. You know that. But that doesn’t mean you’re not seriously nervous.

“After watching you charm a ballroom, I would never dream of such a thing.” Alice waves away your concern. “Come. You must be exhausted by your journey. I will have some tea and refreshments sent to your rooms.”

While Annie and Emmanuel are shown to separate rooms on opposite ends of the long second-floor hallway, you and Max are let into a green-and-white decorated guest room on the third floor that sports one slightly larger bed. The footman who showed you the way leaves you with a bow and closes the door to give you privacy, leaving you standing with Max in the middle of the luxurious room.

“Swanky.” Max hums as he looks around the room. “I have to admit, there’s something missing in modern decor. It’s just not as…elegant.”

“I like that we have the whole newlyweds thing going for us,” you admit, looking around the room while you lean into his side. “They just assume we want to be close to each other. And they’re right.”

Max smiles smugly. “Of course you want to stay close to me.” He brags, winking at you playfully. “You want my body.”

“If you’re going to be cocky about it, I’m not going to tell you what I’ve been thinking.” Raising one eyebrow at him, you dearly wish you were in comfortable jeans and a sweater so you could just plop down on the mattress and stretch out. The traveling dress you have on definitely won’t permit that.

He eyes you wickedly and bites his lip. “Yeah?” He hums. “You don’t want to tell me that you’ve imagined me under that dress of yours? Tongue at work while you pretend to be prim and proper?”

“I’ve been imagining more than that.” It seems like every step you take with him only spurs you onto the next a little faster. Knowing that his tendency toward caretaking with you isn’t just a show or just to get in your pants means more than you can really say. Max loves you, fully and without ulterior motive. And you love him the same.

“Oh yeah?” He snags your waist, pulling you close and grinning as he pulls the bow around your waist loose. He’s teasing you, but he also knows you must be desperate to get out of your dress.

“Maybe.” Flustered and dreamy-eyed, you put your arms around his neck and let him hold you as close as he wants. “Are you really gonna get me all riled up before I have to go have tea with the Mrs. Astor?”

“Why don’t I relax you before you have tea with the Mrs. Astor?” He poses. “Make you cum while you clean up.”

“A very dirty way of getting clean.” You hum, tipping your head back to silently ask for a kiss. “And maybe…a preview to tonight?”

“My wife is greedy.” Max boasts happily. “Wanting to sleep with a tongue inside her.”

“I was thinking maybe…” You can’t help it, biting your lip to keep the grin blossoming across your face from getting too big. “Of a different part of you…”

“Fingers?” Max lifts a brow at you and grins when you shake your head. “Toe? I’ve never tried that before, to be honest.”

"I'm ready." You tell him, warmth in your cheeks and in your smile. "If you are."

“Are you sure?” Max asks seriously, reaching up and brushing his fingers over your pulse. “I don’t want you to rush because you think I’m impatient.”

"I'm sure." His sweetness is part of the reason, but you know he would deflect if you said so. "I love you, and I want to celebrate that."

“It will be good.” He promises sincerely. “Like you’ve never experienced before.”

“If it’s good then it definitely will be like I’ve never experienced before,” you joke, rolling your eyes in exaggeration to make him laugh. “Honestly love, please don’t feel any pressure. I just…I want to share this with you. That’s all.”

“I’ve felt plenty of pressure.” Max jokes, smirking at his innuendo. “But if you’re ready, the perfect place to make love to my wife for the first time, would be in the bed at the Vanderbilt’s mansion.”

“Time travel bragging right.” Every time he gets so proud to call you his wife it gives you a little shiver and you grin.

“And it’s not like we are breaking into a museum to do it.” He chuckles and turns you around to start unbuttoning the back of your traveling dress. “It will be quite the ‘feather in your cap’ as your grandfather likes to say.”

“And we’re even in the time where people actually wear feathers in their caps.” His nimble fingers are quick to undo the outer layer of your dress, pulling away the top to let you stretch a little more easily in just your corset cover and corset above what seems like miles of petticoats. Without those big sleeves it’s a lot easier to move.

Max snickers. “I’m just grateful we didn’t come to a time where wearing tights was fashionable.” He jokes.

“Why not?” You smirk at him over your shoulder. “You’ve got great legs.”

“Yeah, but it would leave nothing to the imagination, package wise.” He snorts.

“Those big ‘ol pantaloons they wore over the tights would.” It reminds you of a Shakespeare show you saw once, and the idea of Max back in that time scraping out thees and thous makes you giggle. “Maybe I’ll get the hang of this time traveling stuff and we’ll be time tourists. Who knows?”

He hums, knowing that you both can be time travelers in your own time as well, watching history unfold as you both remain ageless.

Max helps you out of your skirt, letting you shed all those extra pounds of beading and embroidery for a little while before you have to put on something suitable for Mrs. Astor. You have very little idea of what Renée packed but you’ll manage, just enjoying the freedom of lighter layers for now. Petticoats and a bustle don’t weigh too much, you’ve been surprised to find.

“Better?” Max loves the sight of you in the undergarments of the time, honestly playing into the time period movies that he had watched when he was younger. Sometimes hoping to get laid, but that one – Pride and Prejudice – that was just a guilty pleasure.

“It’s so hard to move in the full dresses.” Which is why you’re wiggling happily and stretching everywhere now that you have a little freedom. “At least we didn’t come back to the age of six-foot crinolines. You wouldn’t be able to get near me at all.”

“I don’t know what that is, but a crinoline sounds horrible.” He gives you a mock look of horror. “Don’t sent us there.”

“I promise.” He gets the giggle out of you that he was hoping for, and you turn to lean against him because you still have the bustle underneath your petticoats tied in place so you can’t just back up into his arms.

“How come the history books never talk about how dirty traveling is?” Max snorts, knowing that both of you need a bath.

“Because no one wants to read about horse shit and dust everywhere.” You laugh along with him. “I wish I had time for a bath but apparently travel by horse-drawn carriage takes foreeeeever.”

“You want to get clean, baby doll?” Max smirks. “I can clean you up real quick.”

“Speed bath?” You raise one eyebrow at him.

He chuckles. “Perks of moving fast, sweetums.” He had overheard the nickname on the dining car last night and had fallen in love with it, to tease you with, of course.

When you roll your eyes it’s entirely joking, but you cross your arms appraisingly and smirk. “Alright. Go for it.”

“Done, baby doll.” He snaps his fingers as if he were a magician, drawing your eyes away from the trick before he begins to move quickly.

When he wants to be, Max is a whirlwind. Before you know it your petticoats are strewn around the room and your corset seems to disappear in a flash, along with your chemise and stockings, all while you barely feel him touch you. The tornado of movement carries you so easily to the bathroom and within minutes you’re scrubbed clean and dry again.

When he stops moving, it’s obvious that Max has also cleaned up while taking care of your quick wash. Grinning and not even breathless as he eyes you. “Believe me now?”

“Baby,” you smirk, the expression rolling over your features with glee. “I never doubted you. I just wanted to see you show off.”

“Good.” He winks at you and shrugs. “Now you are all clean and can enjoy your visit with Mrs. Astor.”

“Wish me luck?” Walking over to the set of buttons built into the carved wood detailing of the guest room, you press the one marked to connect to you maid and sigh. You are definitely going to need Renee’s help picking out a dress.

“Of course.” Max snaps his fingers again. “I could come with you.” He offers with a coy grin.

“I don’t think the Mrs. Astor would take kindly to a bat in her house.” Though you grin broadly at the idea.

“I would make a fashionable hat accessory.” He huffs, miffed that you might deny him the opportunity.

“If you think you can hold still for an entire tea visit, I’ll take you with me.” It’s sweet of him to want to come with you, though you know it’s also because he’s an incorrigible gossip.

He tuts because he knows you’ve got him there. There’s no way he wouldn’t ruffle his wings or trill at you in his bat form. “She might like bats.” He grumbles.

“She might.” When he pouts you can’t help but kiss him, and your hand on his chest feels the thrilling thud of a single heartbeat as your lips brush his. “And if she does, I’ll bring you next time. If there ever is a next time.”

“Ooookaaaaayyy.” He rolls his eyes, playing up the pouring before he shrugs. “Tea sucks anyway. Kind of like me.” He jokes, waggling his brows. “Get it?”

“Har har har.” The exaggerated laughing noise makes both of you bust out into giggles just before a knock sounds at the door and Renee enters.

“You rang, Ma’am?” She asks politely, stock still in her own immaculate uniform. No doubt she had already cleaned herself up from the trip.

“I was hoping you might have packed a nice tea dress for the trip, Renee.” Standing in your chemise and robe in the middle of the room is more than a touch unconventional, but so are you. “I’ve had an invitation from Mrs. Astor.”

“Ohhhhhh.” Her eyes widen slightly and she nods eagerly. “I have a beautiful teal tea dress that would be perfect.” She insists.

“Well,” you flash both of them a smile, with Renee zipping right past you to the closet where your and Max’s clothes have been stored. “Here goes nothing.”

******

More than an hour later, after all the fuss of redressing, restyling, saying your polite ‘good afternoon’s to the Vanderbilts, and being bundled in and out of a carriage all on your own to take you a mere twenty minute carriage ride from number 1 West 57th Street to 350 Fifth Avenue. The house is even grander than the old photo on the damn Wikipedia page you’d seen ages ago, and you swallow thickly as you walk up to the door and ring the bell. Somehow you’re just certain Mrs. Astor’s butler will be the most intimidating possible version of that career choice.

Instead of the butler answering the door, Mrs. Astor herself is the one that pulls the door open. She had been sent word that you had accepted her invitation and had been looking out for your carriage to arrive. “Mrs. Phillips!” She beams as she opens the door wider and steps back. “I am so pleased you decided to accept my invitation.”

“It was very kind of you to ask me.” Astonished to find the woman herself standing in the front hall of her house, you falter and damn near curtsy as a footman appears to whisk your gloves and reticule away. The small hat perched on your head — not adorned with a particular bat — stays firmly in place.

“When Alice Vanderbilt told me you were going to be in town, I knew I had to have you to tea.” She slides her arm through yours and notices you craning your neck around to look at the interior. “You and Mr. Phillips will be building homes, correct? Let me give you a tour? We have so many modern conveniences.”

“We haven’t decided where to build yet.” Polite conversation seems the way to go, as Mrs. Astor escorts you around the first floor of the fashionable and enormous brownstone they call home. “We may make our home in Newport year round.”

“I would love to have a permanent home.” She admits easily. “Packing up everything I need from one home to another is so tiring at times.”

“But the summers are not always pleasant here, and winters can be isolating in Newport.” She leads you through the hall to a stunning sitting room and it’s really all you can do not to stare the way you did your very first day at your home in Newport. “There must be some advantages for being able to travel where the weather is nicest?”

“Of course there are. I know that I am very fortunate to be able to escape the intolerant weather.” She knows that she is privileged and is thankful for her children’s sake. “I would love a frolicking bath in the gardens. Or a pool, but William says that it’s too much effort.”

“Max doesn’t particularly care for the beach. I think he would probably love a pool instead.” Although, the thought of him indignantly turning into a bat just to be out in the sunshine to see you in a swimsuit almost makes you giggle.

“Then perhaps you will have an indoor pool?” She suggests. “You can swim no matter the weather outside.”

“Perhaps.” She seems delighted for you at the prospect so you smile. “And if we did, you would certainly be welcome to visit.”

“I would be visiting often.” She admits with a grin as she guides you back towards the parlor where the tea is being laid by one of the footmen.

If you had any intention of staying in this time, it would be an immense compliment. But as it is, you have to take the fact as what it is — if you get stuck here, then Lina Astor is a valuable ally to have. “You will be most welcome, pool or otherwise.”

“You are kind. And that is a refreshing thing to find.” She hums, smiling as she settles you both down on the sofa. “Very refreshing indeed.”

“It was an honor to receive your invitation.” It is, and you’re aware of that, but you’re still wondering why she invited you here other than the fact that you’re staying with the Browns. It’s not as though she knows you’re their granddaughter.

“Then I am happy you accepted.” The footman has disappeared, and Mrs. Astor leans forward to pick up the teapot. “It is not often I find other kindred spirits in my circle.”

“I—I’m sorry?” The comment takes you off guard, and you feel a little like a deer in headlights at the moment.

Her smile turns slightly coy and she tilts her head. “I don’t think that I’m mistaken.” She tells you conversationally. “Another time traveling witch?”

The mistake you made was reaching for the teacup that the footman had set beside you before leaving the room at exactly the moment Mrs. Astor said the words ‘time traveling’. Your hand clatters past the cup and saucer, nearly upending the small table beside you as your eyes grow as wide as dinner plates. “E—excuse—” Oh, Max is going to be so mad he isn’t here for this. “How could you possibly—?”

“Know that you aren’t from this time?” She muses and sets down the tea set to tap her brows. “You must have just waxed your brows before you travelled back.” Her eyes are flashing with intrigue. “What year had you left?”

"I—" It automatically makes you hide your hands, like she could somehow know that you had just taken off your nail polish the day before. "Um...2023..." you murmur, feeling very oddly like you've been caught by the Time Travel Police or something equally insane.

“Ohhhhhh.” She smiles excitedly and leans in. “Tell me about it, please?” There’s a plea in her voice that is barely noticeable under the excitement.

You don’t even know where to begin, swallowing hard and realizing that the conversation might not make any sense – in an insane sort of way – without context. "When...when have you, um...traveled to?" This time you manage to get the teacup firmly into your hands, but you're sure they must be shaking violently as you can't tear your eyes off the prim and proper madam of New York society.

“I think you misunderstand.” Lina shakes her head and reasons that it’s not a logical conclusion. “I was born in 1965. This is the time I travelled to.”

"What?" When you almost drop the delicate teacup all over again, you just shove it back onto the table.

“I would never have believed it myself.” She admits easily, continuing to talk. “However, how do you deny yourself in photographs from decades before you were born?” She asks. “I know some might think there a doppelgängers, historical figures that look like other people in different times, but I believe, like me, they are witches who have travelled to their proper times.”

"Does that mean...that once we travel...that we're stuck?" You ask, eyes widening impossibly yet again. "We go back to our proper time and stay there?" The possibility hadn't occurred to you, but it seems alarmingly real to hear her talk about it.

“Perhaps that it the wrong wording.” Mrs. Astor concedes. “Because I could have chosen to go back, but why would I when my soulmate was in this time?”

"I suppose that would account for the decision." The way your mind seems to be scrambled is the only thing that makes perfect sense at the moment, but shaking your head doesn't seem to set any of your thoughts straight at all – except one. "So there is a way to go back, then?"

She frowns slightly, tilting her head. “You mean you didn’t come here on purpose?” She asks softly, trying to understand why you would travel through time if not for a reason.

"It was an accident," you admit, feeling all the more amateurish for it. "I was trying to cast a protection spell and it...sort of imploded around me. Instead of banishing the person from where my soulmate and I were, it brought him here with us."

“Oh my.” Her eyes widen slightly and she knows there must be more to the story. “Hopefully, that person is no longer a bother to you and your soulmate?”

"No." A fact which has brought you no small amount of relief. "No. He certainly is not." This might be the most insane situation out of all of the insane situations you've ever found yourself in, and you lean forward in your seat unconsciously. "So..if you were born in 1965...do you mind if I ask where you were born? I'm endlessly curious now."

She grins and leans in. “California.”

"This is just...absolutely insane." The shake of your head still doesn't align your thoughts, but at least this time when you laugh in disbelief you don't feel foolish for it. "And you just...saw yourself in a history book?"

“Imagine my surprise.” She snorts and shakes her head. “But I just knew that it was me.”

"And I thought my story was crazy," you huff, exhaling like it's the biggest relief of your life.

“Believe me, there’s few who know my story.” Lina laughs, reaching over and covering your hand with your own. “How do you explain a colored rose tattoo on your pelvic bone to a man who has never even thought of a tattoo?”

“Oh my god.” Barely managing not to snort when you burst out into giggles, you cover your mouth and manage to recompose yourself. “That…that would not be easy,” you admit readily. “Although I guess at least it’s somewhere easily hidden.”

“Yes. William has accepted that I am from a different time, but my maid believes it is a strange birthmark.” She snickers.

“That is a remarkably detailed birthmark, Mrs. Astor,” you snicker softly, shaking your head. “Mine is essentially a blob.”

“Just so.” She agrees. “How are you acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Brown, really?”

“I suppose it’s a moot point, to ask you to keep my secrets when you’ve already shared yours. We’re in this together.” And what a fucking weird person to even say that to, you think with an internal huff. “They are my grandparents. But only Mr. Brown knows who I really am.”

“Grandparents…how delightful.” She hums as she picks up your cup of tea and hands it back to you. “I expect that it’s easily possible because of your vampiric bloodline, your mother waited to give birth to you?”

“I should not be surprised that you know so much, I suppose?” It’s astonishing to you, but maybe it shouldn’t be. Doesn’t everyone have friends who keep their secrets? Especially within the magical community. “Yes. She did. She waited quite a while.”

“Your grandmother is the leader of her coven in Newport.” She reminds you. “I am the leader of the coven here. William has actually talked to your grandfather about immortality.”

“Really?” Imagining the Astors in the future makes your head spin a little, but how is it any weirder than you coming back to this time? “If you ever find yourself in 2023, come and visit.”

Picking up her own tea, she adds a sugar cube and stirs it. “Your soulmate is immortal? Or just a lucky human? I wasn’t quite able to tell.”

“Max is immortal.” And you almost laugh to yourself, thinking again how much he would love to be here for this. “My grandfather was his sire…either several years ago or it will be many years in the future. Depending on how you look at it.”

“How fascinating it all is.” She wonders, blowing on her tea and taking a small sip. “What a wonderful connection. I hope that your time here is fruitful?”

“I hope so, too.” You admit, blowing out a sigh of your own. “Of course, if I can never figure out how to get us home, our time here will be permanent.”

“Yes,” at the mention of that, Lina straightens. “That is why I asked you to tea. To get to know you, but also inquire if you are well versed in the spells.” She sets her tea down and stands, moving over to the bookcase. “I have all my own spells here, including the one to bring me to my William’s time.”

“I am not particularly well versed in any spells at all.” The idea of an Astor family grimoire piques your interest as you watch her move amongst the shelves, pulling things out quickly in a very particular order until a hidden panel in the wainscoting pops open. Of fucking course Mrs. Astor has a secret compartment for her grimoire. “My magical education came late in life.”

“The perhaps I might give you a copy?” She asks, knowing that you might not have your own family grimoire. If her own could assist you in creating one, she would be delighted.

"Are you serious?" At least the more modern phrase won't sound too foreign to her as you stare at the petite figure of Lina Astor over your teacup. "I—I mean—that would be so incredibly generous of you."

“I will start writing it out immediately.” She promises as she brings the leather-bound book over to the sofa. “By the time of your grandmother’s ball, it will be in your hands.”

"Then I suppose we're here until at least Samhain." A few weeks in 1885 won't do you any harm, but it makes your smile flicker slightly at the thought of missing your own Samhain ball. It makes you wonder how Allison and Eddie are doing – what they're doing – and if Yayo has even explained what's going on.

“Delightful.” She winks at you, even as she speaks properly. “You and I will have to have tea again then. I will call on you?”

"Any time." In the back of your mind you vaguely recall that the appropriate length of a social call in this time period is something absurd like fifteen minutes, and you figure that period must be up. "We're staying with the Cornelius Vanderbilts until Friday, then returning to Newport."

Nodding, she understands your reasoning and bites her lip. “I will be attending the opera tomorrow night, will you be attending as well?”

"My grandparents were kind enough to let us use their box." An actual box at the opera sounded like a beautiful night to you and Annie had been over the moon to bring Emmanuel to the Academy of Music. "My soulmate has never been to an opera before, so we should be in for a fun night."

“Then I will see you at intermission.” Lina decides with a warm smile. “I have to admit that I am very glad you came to tea. It had been a long time since I have talked about…things.”

"I'm glad I wasn't too nervous to accept." Standing from the sofa, you have just enough time to compose yourself before a footman steps up to the drawing room door. You can see your gloves and reticule lying on the table in the foyer and you know that that's your signal. "Thank you for having me, Mrs. Astor. I look forward to seeing you again."

“Call me Lina.” She demands softly, setting the book down and leaning in to give you a quick hug. “We are sisters after all.”

"I will see you tomorrow night, Lina." You squeeze her back gently before striding from the room and accepting your things from the footman with a smile. Whatever you had expected this visit to be, it was nothing like that at all, and you're all the more glad for it as you get into the carriage.

As soon as the door closes, the bat that had been sitting up on top of the curtain flutters down and lands in your lap, squawking.

"Well, hey Cutie pie. I know you." It's all you can do not to burst out into giggles, but you scoop Bat Max up in both hands and let him snuggle into your chest as the carriage lurches and starts off down the street to take you back to the Vanderbilt's house. "You're never going to believe the visit I just had," you tell him honestly, blowing out a deep sigh.

Max turns his head and practically sticks it down your bodice, thankful that the tea dress is lower cut than your traveling dress. Flapping his wings and squeaking in response to you.

"If you wanted to grope me, you could do it in human form," you snort, giggling at the little bat's antics. "So it turns out..." you cuddle your soulmate's animal form as the carriage bumps and jostles along the road, hand wrapped around his small body to keep him safe against you. "The legendary Mrs. Lina Astor? Is a witch."

Snuggled happily between your breasts, Max trills, hating that he has to pull away, but he can’t transform in your dress. “What?!?” He demands as soon as he is very much in a human form again, eyes bugged out in surprise.

“I swear on every god I can think of,” you promise, holding your hand up like it’s some kind of solemn oath. “But it gets crazier. She’s a fucking time traveler, too!”

“Bullshit.” Max huffs, not thinking you are a liar, but who can that be?

“I swear!” The way you practically double over cackling — or you would have doubled over if not for the corset — tells him how dead serious you are. “She was born in 1965. Saw herself in history books and knew she had to come back.”

“Isn’t that a mind fuck?” Max’s eyes widen. “One of the most historical female figures in America is a time traveler.”

“She’s going to make me a copy of her grimoire,” you murmur, voice full of awe as you lean into your soulmate’s side. “I can’t fucking believe I found another time traveler. And by accident!”

“It seems as if she recognizes something about you.” He worries about that slightly, but with Mrs. Astor as an ally, it would smooth a lot of issues for you should they arise.

“She noticed my eyebrows.” It’s such a stupid detail to you that it’s laughable, but it’s completely on point when you look at it. The fact that you had gone to the salon with Allison just the day before everything happened is what made your appearance stick out to a woman who actually knew what eyebrow waxing was. “She said she’d help me. So I can get us back safely. But…the copy of her grimoire won’t be ready until Samhain. So it looks like we have two more weeks in 1885.”

“I won’t mind that.” Max admits with an easy grin. “Although you might.” He snorts, lifting a brow. “You start your period in two weeks.”

“Pain killers in this time have cocaine and heroine. I am not taking a damn thing.” You’re not surprised at all that your blood drinking soulmate with a superhuman sense of smell already knows your cycle, so you just bypass that face completely. “I will be begging for hot chocolate, though.”

“All the hot chocolate you can drink.” He promises with a smirk. “I think your mother likes my hot chocolate too.”

“She does.” And of course he’s smug about that. He deserves to be. “But you can’t cave and give her the recipe. She used to make me Swiss Miss when I was a kid.”

“Oh no.” He huffs. “This is my secret recipe.” He insists. “You only get that when you’ve been married to me for a hundred years.”

"Real married or pretend married?" You tease, grinning as you snuggle deeper into his side.

“Real.” He snorts. “Have to make sure you’re with me for me and not my hot chocolate.” He teases. “Although, before I forget….do you want to dance tonight?”

"I'd love to." Your hand slips gently into his, fingers threading together, and you squeeze his hand in yours. With your head on his shoulder at the carriage bumps along the road, this is pretty damn close to bliss.

“Good.” Max’s fingers caress your palm. “I hired a little band of musicians to play for us after Alice said I could use the ballroom tonight.”

"You hired a band?" Reeling back to look him in the eye, your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline in surprise. "What's the occasion? Did I not know it was your birthday or something?"

“No.” If he was still living, his cheeks would be scorching hot, but he does look a little embarrassed. “Since it’s…since you want to…” he waggles his brows suggestively in an endearing immature way. “I wanted to make it special. A night you wouldn’t forget.” He also wants to show you that you deserve some to put in the effort for you.

"Honey..." Your gasp, you have realized since being with someone who doesn't need to breathe, is so uniquely human. He might be looking slightly embarrassed, but your jaw is on the floor of the carriage and tears have sprung up into your eyes as you stare at him. "You—really?" It's so far outside of the realm of what you could ever have expected that you don't even know what to say. "For...me?"

“Was it dumb?” He had been sure that you would love it. “It’s dumb. I should have asked, right?” He panics and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Dolly, I just wanted to make it special.”

"Max." Tugging on his hand slightly makes him look at you, and you shake your head fiercely even as you reach up with your free hand to touch his cheek. "That is the sweetest, most thoughtful, most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me and if we weren't already engaged I'd been asking you to marry me right here in this carriage." The watery shine in your eyes is nothing less than pure happiness and pride, and you lean forward to kiss him with soft surety. "In fact, I'm prepared to say fuck it and get married right here in 1885, just so I can proudly call you my husband for real."

He stares into your eyes for a moment, the unease fading and he bites his lip. “I just wanted you to feel special.” He admits quietly. “You are special. And I want you to believe it.”

"My whole adult life, no one has ever believed in me or loved me the way you have." It's somehow simultaneously exhilarating and humbling, the magnitude to which Max's love is worn entirely on his sleeve. It's obvious, not just evident, and you never thought that you were worth someone's entire devotion the way Max has given every ounce of himself over to loving you. "I hope I give back even half of what you do. And I'm glad we have literally all the time in the world for me to learn to love you exactly as well as you love me. Because you're special too, sweetheart."

“Of course I am.” He flashes you a smirk that is pure bravado, and more than a little facade, but he won’t argue with you. It would be pointless when you would say you weren’t worth it to him.

"I just never want you to doubt it, that's all." Max deals with his insecurities in very different ways than you do. You know that. So instead of huffing at him or rolling your eyes or anything of that sort, you just smile and kiss the corner of his mouth again.

“I knew I should have gone with you.” Max pouts, but he knows his presence might have derailed the conversation.

"Today will hardly be the last that we hear or see of Lina Astor," you remind him with a grin. "She might even pop up to 2023 to see us sometime."

“That would be pretty fucking cool.” Max muses. “Her husband has certainly made enough money to support them.”

"I don't know if he's ever actually time traveled with her, but it would be pretty fun if they popped into the future to visit." The two of you lean back again in the carriage, resting against each other's sides as it pulls around the corner of the avenue. "Can you imagine throwing a ball in 2023 and having an Astor show up?"

“No one would know who they were.” Max points out. “They could move through the time in complete anonymity.”

"Unless we find the one person who is like...an Astor family historian or something." That person must exist, you're sure of it. But thankfully, you definitely don't know them. Although if you did? That would be an interesting introduction. "You do know that if I get my time traveling down as well as hers, we could do that, too?"

“Has she travelled to other times as well?” He asks, confused as he wonders. Could that explain why the Astors had a golden touch in business?

"Visits are so short here that I didn't really have time to ask," you admit sheepishly. "But I offered for her to come and visit us in our time and she didn't immediately shut me down or anything, so I have to think it's possible. It's magic not like...a wormhole or a tear in the space-time continuum, right? So theoretically a witch who can master it should be able to pick their destination just like Marty McFly plugging a date into the Delorian."

“Do they make it in a broom model?” Max jokes, chuckling at his own humor when you roll your eyes. “It’s funny and you know it.”

“I’m getting a bumper sticker for abuela’s fancy car when we get home,” you inform him, laughing under your breath at your own bad joke. “My Other Ride Is a Broom.”

“You would not put a sticker on that car.” Max is horrified in a decidedly male way about that, his eyes wide and anguished. “My car’s probably been towed off, or stolen.”

“I’m sure Yayo had it picked up. After all— he knows where we are.” The carriage rolls to a stop and you stretch as much as your dress allows. “Home sweet temporary home.”

“What a temporary home it is.” Max snorts, admiring the grandeur of the facade. “I could see having a gothic style architecture if we were here permanently. Play up the spooky vibes.”

“Maybe we should build a house anyway,” you joke with a grin. “Come and go as we like once I figure out how to get us back and forth.”

“Which house in history has an ambiguous past?” Max asks, lifting a brow curiously.

“There’s a lot of them.” Off the top of your head there’s things like Boldt Castle in New York and the Winchester Mystery House. “And I bet Yayo would take care of it for us.”

“Hmmmm.” Max is thoughtful a moment before he shrugs one shoulder. “Perhaps it’s one of ours.” He tells you. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Maybe we’ll get back and Mrs. Taylor will hand us an extra set of keys.” The thought makes you grin, and the carriage jostles just as one is the Vanderbilt’s footmen comes out to open the door and lend you a hand. What seemed unnecessary and dramatic in period films now makes perfect sense. If you didn’t have help getting out of this carriage you’d never be able to find the sidewalk for all the dress you have to wear.

Max managed to turn into a bat before the footman opened the door. That way he will not cause any questions amongst the staff about how he wasn’t with you and then he was. Luckily for stealth, the dips and flounces hide your bat-ified soulmate from sight and you just climb the steps into the house neatly after saying thank you to the footman without anyone being any wiser.

Max smirks a batty little smirk and clings to the folds of your outfit, enjoying being carried into the house with no one the wiser.

******

When Mrs. Vanderbilt also falls in love with an idea, she isn’t one to sit on it. Max asking for the ballroom to dance with his bride sounded like the most thoughtful and romantic thing that she had ever heard of. She had pointed him in the direction of a small orchestra, and had personally gone to the kitchen to have the idea of a dinner for two planned out with the cook with a footman assigned to serve the quiet meal.

There were flowers everywhere. She must have sent Renee out to purchase every flower from every corner within a ten block radius. Bouquets of them set around a small garden table that has been laid out for two, a champagne bucket beside it. The candles and glass lanterns low enough to give the enormous room a romantic, intimate glow. You had been hustled through another bath, a fresh ball gown that had to come from somewhere, although you don’t remember seeing it amongst your purchases even though it is vaguely familiar, and some of Alice’s own jewels around your neck when you are escorted into the room to find Max waiting for you. His own bath done and his tailored tuxedo making him look every inch the dashing, handsome vampire that he is.

“This is a lot more than just dancing…” you gasp, one gloved hand going straight to your heart as you look around. The Vanderbilt’s expansive ballroom looks like it has been taken over by a fairy kingdom with the way it overflows with blossoms, and you look to Max in awe. “It’s stunning, love. You’re… you’ve…” There really aren’t words for the way your heart swells in your chest, and you walk over to him with sure steps to wrap your arms around him. “My soulmate is the sweetest man in the whole world,” you murmur against his chest.

“I didn’t do all this.” Max admits with a shake of his head. “I just mentioned that I wanted it to be special.”

“No?” You pull back from him, incredulous, and look around then down at yourself. “This dress?”

“Well…” he shrugs. “I asked Alice if there is a dress that was suitable for a night of dancing.”

“So I need to write Alice the world’s best thank you note for hosting us. That’s what you’re saying?” Looking at the pair of you together in the nearby mirrored wall paneling, though, your eyes widen in recognition. “I know this dress!” You realize just a second later.

“Really?” Max frowns for a moment and tilts his head. “From where?”

“From the attic.” Your eyes are wide when you look back at him and you practically giggle. “The day that we all dressed up and went to the mansion?” It seems like years and years ago that you were first getting to know the girls in the Newport coven, and the pang of missing them hits deeply. “Allison wore this.”

“How interesting.” He guides you over to the table and pulls out a chair for you to sit down.

"I guess it goes to show that this was supposed to happen?" When he sits down across from you, the two of you exchange a shared, soft smile. "Maybe we shouldn't be surprised anymore? Since life has thrown us so many curveballs already."

“It’s been nothing but adventure since you’ve arrived.” Max admits with a chuckle. “But I’ve enjoyed the ride. How about you?”

"I wouldn't change a single thing." And you really wouldn't. Even the parts filled with uncertainty or fear have brought you closer together, but more than anything he has given you strength and confidence that you never had before. Loving Max has made you a better person, inside and out. "And I'm very excited for every adventure that is still to come."

Smirking proudly, Max takes the bottle of champagne from the bucket and looks at it and then at you. “Sweetheart….do you want me to have this taken away?” He asks softly. “I don’t think Alice knew.”

"If you want to have some, it's okay." He likely won't, having insisted since the day he found out why you don't drink that he will abstain right along with you. But it's also not like this meal will hold much interest for him considering his preferred diet, so you give him the choice.

The bottle goes back in the bucket and he shakes his head. “I’m good.” He knows that you wouldn’t want any, but he always wants to continue to make sure that you know that if you want to have some again, you have that option.

The footman, confused by the turn of phrase, seems to understand that champagne will not be necessary and steps forward to remove the ice bucket and its contents. “I’ll let Alice know that we don’t drink alcohol when I thank her for tonight,” you tell Max. “It’s…all of this is absolutely beautiful.”

“Whatever you want to tell her, baby.” Max from before would offer advice, but he has learned that you just want to explain and not have your feelings or ideas overruled. “Tonight is about you and I want it to be perfect.”

"Tonight is about us." It's about growing closer and about this last, large step forward. You can't be sure if it's taken longer than you thought or far less time than you would have imagined, but having now spent enough nights actually sleeping with Max along with getting to know him, the time for euphemistic sleeping together feels exciting.

He might not feel that way, but he doesn’t argue. Knowing that it’s important for you that he also be included. His soulmate is actually very considerate and he is grateful for that. “Do you want to eat before we dance?” He asks with a grin. “Or work up an appetite?”

"I would hate to interrupt the chef's schedule." According to your abuela, meals in this time are a well-orchestrated dance all in their own right, and you look to the footman for any kind of confirmation or denial of a firm schedule existing. "Might we have time for a turn or two before the meal begins?"

The man smiles at the question, thinking briefly, and almost bows to you with his deep nod. "I will make sure of it, Mrs. Phillips. Please, enjoy yourselves," he says before excusing himself.

The tails of the tuxedo are something that Max believes should still be around in his own time, flicking them out as he stands and glides around the table. “Will you waltz with me, Mrs. Phillips?” He asks, bowing as any gentleman of the time would. Your Yayo had spent time to make sure that Max fit in and did not make any social blunders.

"Mr. Phillips, I would be delighted." You're both up and out of your chairs again, and the leader of the small band that has been hired takes Max's cue to strike up a lively but simple waltz. The man clearly took working up an appetite literally, and you have to smile as Max puts one hand around your waist and draws you in close – a perfect ballroom frame supporting both of you in place before he leads you into the dance.

Like every time Max has danced with you, he is struck by how seamless it is. It’s as if you and he become one at that moment and move in perfect coordinated unison. There’s not a split second’s hesitation, no faltering. Working easily as if you had been partners for a lifetime, which one day will be true.

The swells in the music become dips and turns, the swaying of your frame in Max's keeping you in time and making sure no feet ever get stepped on. The movement is smooth as silk and completely entrancing, although you know that some of your favourite moves are impossible in a gown this large. All that matters is that you and Max stay connected, moving together with fluidity and grace. Sometimes it feels like the happiest you've ever been are these moments dancing with Max, and you wonder if tonight might somehow equal that or make it feel even more magical than it already does.

The mood is already romantic, the music and the dance coupled with the lighting and what both of you know is to come. It’s fairy tale quality and still Max wishes for more. Wanting you to remember tonight forever, looking back at the moment that you truly became his and he became yours. For all his easy flirtations and past liaisons, he wants to continue to romance his soulmate, for everyday to be an opportunity for you to fall more in love with him.

"You're thinking awfully hard about something," you murmur when he pulls you back to his chest after a turn. His expression of concentration is so easy to pick out, and always makes you want to smooth your thumb over his forehead to soothe the creases away.

“Thinking about you.” He admits easily. “How you deserve so much more. How special you are.” He knows you will protest, but he will just have to dance with you more.

"The perfect example of why we're soulmates." Humming softly, you squeeze his shoulder with your off hand and offer him a soft smile. "We think the world of each other and nothing of ourselves." He has masked it with bravado for pretty much his entire life, but when it comes down to it, he has just as many issues with how he perceives himself as you do. "I love you, Max. Completely. You're the most special thing in the world to me, so if I'm as special as you say we're a hell of a team."

The words are the soft, sweet ones that he has craved his entire life and he savors them. Tucking you against his body and closing his eyes. “We are a hell of a team.” He insists. “Now we just need to find out what dancing between the sheets looks like for us.”

He manages to say it quietly enough that it doesn't echo across the ballroom, keeping it for your ears only, and you giggle with soft delight. You're actually excited for this, which isn't something that you were sure you would ever feel again. "I think it'll be very rhythmic," you tease.

He chuckles and nods. “A steady, continuous rhythm.” He promises. Unlike any previous lovers, Max doesn’t get tired. Any changes in the pace would be because he fumbles or he wants to change, not because he’s unable to keep it up.

"Mr. Phillips, I think that counts as scandalous," you hum, fanning yourself with your own hand dramatically and wishing that just this once you actually had one of those fancy hand fans to tease him with.

"You would faint in shock at all the scandalous things that I would do to you, Dolly." Max snorts playfully, sending you a hot look as he dips you low and presses his face into your breasts before slowly dragging you upright again.

“Maybe I would.” Considering there is an entire group of strangers in the room, you demure a little even though you’re shivering with anticipation on the inside. “Perhaps I am terribly proper and ladylike and this is where I’ve belonged all along.”

“I can see that.” He growls, flashing his fangs at you playfully for a split second. “And I am the wicked vampire ready to defile you.”

When you giggle and have to smother a snort, it’s because you’re sure that anyone overhearing this would assume you were really into sexy role playing or at least fantasy foreplay. When the fact is, it’s just who you are. A little silly, a lot romantic, and entirely devoted to making each other happy.

Around the room, your skirts swish and sway as he leads you. Speeding up and then slowing down along with the music. His eyes always on you as he twirls you around the dance floor. Aware that some of the Vanderbilt staff have peeked in, but it doesn't bother him, never minding an audience.

They're peaking in from around the corner screen and through the pocket doors at the end of the room, and you're dimly aware of their presence without ever minding it for a single second. Renee is probably with them, which makes you smile, and you hope she is enjoying the attention of fielding all sorts of questions about Miss Brown's mysterious new friends.

Max spins you again, taking this as seriously as any dance competition. He’s not expecting perfection but it seems that together, you move flawlessly. Making him proud of your abilities and he beams as he pulls you close again.

When the song draws to a close, Max holds you close to his chest instead of going for some dramatic end pose, letting the last strains of music fade away with you held fast to him as your heart beats wildly out of time. After a moment you become dimly aware of a soft clapping and glance over at the band, all of whom are politely applauding your performance. Your cheeks burn hot instantly and you laugh, but curtsy. It must not be often that they get a private show like this.

Max grins, proud of you and his movement shows it as he guides you back to the table for the first course. “My little ballroom dancer.” He coos softly. “So perfect.”

“I’m just following your lead, love,” you remind him softly. There is nothing but pure love in your eyes.

“Nothing I love more than to lead you around the dance floor, and hopefully something more tonight.” He smirks slightly and helps you sit down.

“I think we’ve moved past hope and into certainty.” As you sit down you give his hand a squeeze. You’re ready. Completely ready.

“Never want you to feel like you can’t end things immediately.” Max sits down and he immediately reaches for your hand.

“I know.” And you appreciate it more than you can say. “But I don’t think that will be the case.” If you’re honest, you’ve started to crave the closeness of him, so tonight is exactly what you want.

“I guarantee it won’t.” He winks at you playfully. “But I do want my wife to tell me exactly what she expects of her husband.”

“I promise.” And you will. Just…not where an army of servants can overhear every detail. That conversation is reserved for when you’re actually alone.

He can see the way your eyes flicker to the staff and he hums. “As you wish, Queenie.”

Dinner is gorgeous. An intricate dance all its own, executed with a precision that you really have to admire. Alice’s staff is amazing and the food is to die for. The band plays several more lovely songs for you, and you and Max dance well into the night. When you finally thank them for their time and go upstairs for the evening, you feel like you’re floating on air.

Max marvels at how warm and soft your hand is in his. Waiting for you to start sweating or even get slightly clammy from nerves, but you never do. Just soft sighs of happiness and beguiling smiles as you look over at him. "Tired, sweetheart?"

"Not at all." You've said goodnight to Renee and to Emmanuel's valet already, telling them you don't need help getting ready to sleep tonight, and that leaves just you and Max alone in your room together with a fire to keep you warm. "I do want to go to bed, though."

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo

VW: @haileymorelikestupid, @miraclesabound @nastiasnow @vabeachazn @oberynslady @grogusmum @kittenlittle24 @8-900 @survivingandenduring @ktmadden86 @inept-the-magnificent @missladym1981 @sweetnsaltyclussy @survivingandenduring

My Masterlist!

[ediet-the-right-way]

Sharing from my meal plan Notes to those who need ✨

New Plan - Calories

No Snacks Between Meals

No Grazing

Eat without distraction / Mindfully Eat (when kids are asleep, when you don’t have to get up every ten seconds)

Eat One Bit at a time

Chew each bite 20-30x

Start fast at 5pm / 6pm

End fast at 11am/12pm next day if possible

5 hour eating window, 2 meals a day with 1 snack or 3 meals. Plan emergency snack.

Tea Between Meals

Sleep by 7/8p

Avoid Food Noise

Drink tea

Exercise

Make a protein shake with a lot of ice

Take a bath

Shower / do hair

Prep foods for next day using bento boxes.

Eat at the same time every day. don’t destroy a good routine.

Everything you eat at work, eat the same way at home

If doing Low Carb / Keto

Pre: I’ve never had a good run with keto but for those of you who are trying it, follow guidelines below.

Stay under 1100-1000 Calories

Boiled egg with shrimp

BLT Salad from Keto Cook Book (Lettuce in lieu of bread)

Veggie Egg and Cheese Bake

Examples:

Breakfast: Start at 12p: 470

1 cup egg whites - 133

with S/P/Garlic Powder

1 Egg - 70

2 ozFeta - 80

5 Cherry Tomatoes - 17

Sautéed mushroom and Onion - 50

- OR -

Meal: (Keto) 430

6 oz Steak - 240

1 Egg - 70

1oz Feta - 40

15 Spears Asparagus - 60

4 Cherry Tomatoes - 20

Meal: (Keto) - 367

Salmon - 280

Asparagus - 27

Meal 2: 323

2 Cups Salad Greens - 20

1 tbs skinny girl dressing - 5

4 Cherry tomatoes - 20

1 Cup Shredded Chicken - 170

1/4 Avocado - 58

1 oz Feta - 40

Meal:

2 Turkey Roll Ups

Tomato and 1/2 Avocado Salad

1 Egg

2 Sweet Peppers

With cream cheese

- OR -

Meal: 460

Cottage Cheese Flatbread Pizza

* 1 Cup Cottage Cheese - 180

* 2 Eggs - 140

* Mix , Bake at 350 for 40min

* 2 tbs Pizza Sauce - 40

* Mozzarella or Violife Cheese - 100

- OR -

Meal: 352

2 Cups Salad Greens - 20

1 tbs skinny girl dressing - 5

6 Cherry tomatoes - 20

1/2 Cup Shredded Chicken - 85

1/2 Avocado - 100

1oz Feta - 40

1/4 cup Blueberries - 10

1/4 Cup Strawberries - 12

1/2 tbs Dark Chocolate Chips - 50

Pickled Onions - 10

Snack: Protein Shake

* 1 Scoop Protein Powder - 80

* 2 Tbs PB2 - 60

* 1 Cup Almond Milk - 30

* Ice - 0

-OR-

* 1 tbs Peanut Butter - 98

* Smashed Berries - 50

* On Toast (Dave’s Killer Bread) - 60

- OR -

Pick from one:

My ask is always Open if you need meal ideas ✨

[system-to-the-madness]

A Promise Kept - Itadori Yūji x Reader

Pairing: Itadori Yūji  x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: angst (a tiny speck of fluff in the end) Word Count: 3 951 Warnings: suicidal Yūji, self-harm (Yūji), panic attack(?), throwing up(both Yūji and Reader), death, canon typical violence, description of sever wounds and pain, lots of crying, SPOILERs for up to chapter 137 / episode 47 Summary: Following the Shibuya incident, you try to talk to Yūji, who has locked himself away A/N: Inspired by an ask @delzinrowe sent to @just-jordie-things and I got the permission to write it. This is probably not what you guys had in mind, but I had this idea as soon as I read this ask and stuck with it. Also: I usually don’t write angst unless it ends in a lot of fluff, so this is a first for me.

Masterlist

“He’s hidden himself away.” Panda’s voice was heavy with concern. Not unjustified concern, considering ever cheerful Yūji had distanced himself from everyone following the events of the Halloween night.

It was the morning of the first of November. Dust still hung in the air like fog, the first sunbeams of a warm autumn morning shining their light on the destroyed Shibuya. You had not slept at all in the past 24 hours, nor eaten anything in the past 12. Instead, you had thrown up even the little stomach contents you had had left. You had tried drinking something, but none of it was any good, you just couldn’t keep anything down. Not the water the half-curse Chōsō had offered you, not the green tea Yaga had handed you, not the broth Ieiri-sensei had convinced you to drink. You had thrown everything back up.

The pictures of the night kept haunting you, of the curses you had exorcised, of the transfigured humans you had been forced to kill, of Gojō-sensei’s eyes looking back at you from that prison realm in Kenjaku’s hands, of Megumi’s lifeless body leaning against a wall, of Nanami-san’s body being torn apart, of Nobara clutching her face before dying. Now of the four first-years, only Yūji and you were left standing. But you were doubtlessly in way better shape than he was. Sure, you were so exhausted that your hands were shaking and your legs quivering, you had cuts across your arms and face, and bruises all over your body, but Yūji was of way worse than that. He had a huge cut right over his nose, was missing a part of his cheek so his teeth were showing. According to Chōsō, Ieiri-sensei had already healed him, but the scars were red and angry, and you knew it still had to hurt. Not to mention what he had gone through, watching his friends die, just like you had. But you were not possessed by an ancient, evil sorcerer who had used your body to wreak havoc to the city, burn it to ashes. And you knew he blamed himself for all of it.

Now, as you stood where once the famous Shibuya Scramble Crossing had been, legs weak from exhaustion and morning sunlight reflecting in the broken glass of the skyscrapers around you, you wondered how you were even still alive. Sweat had dried on your skin, blood crusting your clothes, smears of dust painted your face. The shock of the news you had received about the outcome of the night had not quite settled in, instead it was a slowly creeping terror, that you knew would close its fingers around your heart once you stopped to rest. So it was better not to rest, not yet, not while Yūji was still in distress.

“Where is he,” you asked, turning to Panda, who was climbing over the debris. Somewhere beneath all that rubble the famous statue of that dog, Hachikō, was buried. Along with humans, all of them probably long dead.

“He hid in one of the bathrooms,” another voice answered.

Shielding your eyes from the sunlight, you were met with the sight of Chōsō. Dark circles were painted under his brown eyes, the black tattoo over the bridge of his nose seeming to split his face in two.

“Which one?”

You ignored how strange it was asking the half-curse – whose brothers you had killed – for directions to help your friend… who he also considered his brother. But Yūji was your friend and if Panda’s words were to be believed – why shouldn’t they? – then Yūji needed you. He was your friend. Right? Nothing more than that. And nothing less.

Chōsō looked around for a moment, trying to orientate himself in the rubble, then pointed to the stairwell closest to Shibuya 109.

“Down the stairs, the first bathroom.”

Instead of acknowledging either Chōsō or Panda any further, you began making your way to the entrance of the subway. In the backpack on your bag, bottles of water and bags with food shifted against one another, as you climbed over a piece of a building.

The stairs were almost entirely destroyed, but you made your way down anyway, trying to sort your thoughts out. This was not the time to contemplate your feelings for Yūji, you told yourself. What mattered now was to help him, not because you liked him, but because he needed help. He needed to drink something, something with minerals to avoid cramps later, so Ieiri-sensei had packed sports-drinks in the backpack you were carrying. He needed nutrients and vitamins, also packed in your bag. He needed words of assurance, so you had already thought about what you needed to tell him. That it wasn’t his fault. That without him, many more would have died. That you were glad he was still there. He probably needed a hug or two, and you were prepared to hold him for as long as he needed you to make him realize that you would always be by his side. Because you were his friend. Because you would always stick together.

Now was not the time to think about how you had always felt connected to him, from the first moment on. It was not the time to think about how tight he always hugged you, how close he sat to you during movie nights, how he pretended to serenade you during karaoke or make your favourite ramen for you when you felt down. Nor was it the time to think about how he always made you explain the homework to him, as if he had to force you to do it when really you were thankful for each moment you got to spend with him, especially when it allowed you to gaze at him for minutes on end without him noticing. And whenever he noticed, he would grin at you, as if he were proud of something, and your face would grow warm. One time he had even told you he liked it when you looked at him like this, and you had been unable to meet his eyes for the rest of the day.

And then there were those little touches, the hand on the small of your back whenever he guided you to walk on the inside of the pavement so he was walking at the side of the street. The touches that lingered a little longer than with anyone else. But now was not the time to think about any of that.

The lights in the subway station were flickering, making it hard to see through the dust in the air. On a wall the lit-up advertisement for some sports anime sent flashes of white light into the dark. What you’d give to be the stupid love interest in one of these harmless anime now.

And there was the bathroom.

Stepping through the dark, careful not to fall over any of the debris, you slowly approached the door, your dominant hand at the handle of the cursed katana you had spent the past six months learning how to wield. Listening for any suspicious sounds, you stopped for a moment, before you pushed against the closed door to the men’s bathroom.

It didn’t budge.

Furrowing your brows, your tried again, but the metal of the door refused to swing open.

“Yūji-kun,” you called into the silence.

Something moved behind the door.

“Yūji-kun, it’s me,” you called again, knocking against the door. “Are you in there?”

“Go away!”

Yūji’s voice sounded chocked up and raw when he answered from behind the door, making you exhale in relief. You had found him. And he was conscious.

“Yūji, you need to eat and drink something,” you told him, knocking again.

“Leave me alone, go away!”

“You know I can’t do that,” you refused, trying to suppress the shaking in your voice. He sounded so hurt and lost. All you wanted to do was wrap him in an embrace and protect him from the memories of the night’s events.

“I don’t wanna see anyone right now! Go away.”

“You don’t have to see me, we can keep the door closed if you like. Just-” you sighed, crouching down in front of the door. “Just talk to me. I want to help.”

“You can’t help! You can’t- unless you kill me, you can’t help!”

It felt like your heart stopped beating in your chest, and tears shot into your eyes. You knew Yūji would feel terrible, but bad enough to want to die? You had not expected that.

“Yūji-“

“They’re dead because of me! Because of me Nanamin and Kugisaki-” Yūji’s voice broke off in a sob. “They died because of me! Shibuya is burnt to the ground because of me! So many people died because of me! And Fushiguro- Ijichi-san, Maki-san, Inumaki-san- they all-”

This voice broke off again, and you heard choking from the other side, as if he was throwing up. Or at least trying to throw up. After tonight you were familiar enough with the sound of trying to throw up with an empty stomach.

“Yūji, it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have prevented-”

“Of course, it’s my fault. It’s all my fault, all of it is!”

“No, it’s not! If it had been your fault-”

“Stop saying it isn’t! Because it is! All of it is! Those were my hands who killed all these people! My hands who destroyed Shibuya! All of this only started because I’m a vessel for Sukuna! If I weren’t, they wouldn’t have tried getting to me, and all these people were still alive! It’s all burned into my memory! Every time I close my eyes I see them die, over and over and over again-”

He chocked and gagged again, making your own stomach clench, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You wanted to help him so badly, hold him, comfort him. But the door kept you at a distance.

“If I weren’t possessed by Sukuna, they’d still be alive! Gojō-sensei should’ve just killed me! He should’ve just executed me!” From behind the door, you heard a bang, as if he had punched the wall… no, he had hit his head against it.

“Yūji!” You banged against the door, before placing your flat hand against it. Your fingers curled against the smooth, cool metal, your nails scraping against it in a desperate attempt to get to him. Of course, you could have just kicked down the door, but a part of you knew Yūji wouldn’t forgive you if you were to intrude on this space, he had created for himself, away from everyone. “Yūji, stop it! Stop!”

But another dull bang followed your plea, accompanied by his sobs and more retching.

“He should’ve executed me the moment the order came in! I should be dead!” Yūji’s voice was soar from screaming and crying and throwing up. “I should be dead! Then none of this would have happened! I should be dead! They should’ve just killed me! The world would be better off if I were dead! I should be dead! I should just die! I should-”

“Stop it! Stop it, Yūji! Stop it!” Tears were running down your cheeks as you banged against the locked door again, your voice shrill in your own ears. “Stop saying that! Stop saying you should be dead! Stop it, please stop!” You chocked on your own sobs, weakly trying to bang your firsts against the door. “I need you, you hear? I can’t lose you, too!”

For a moment there was silence on the other side of the door, no more screaming, no more head-against-the-wall-banging, no more retching. Only some heavy breathing.

“You’re only in danger around me,” Yūji eventually answered, his voice quiet. “Sukuna could take over any moment and he’d kill you without hesitation. The only way to ensure everyone’s safety would be to kill-“

“Nobody’s killing you! And those who try will have to go through me first! And the same goes for you! If you try to hurt yourself, Itadori Yūji, I swear by my life I will do everything in my power to stop you!”

Again silence spread between you. Long and heavy silence, interrupted only by your sobs and occasional gagging from Yūji’s side. It spread for so long, that you were almost tempted to ask if he was still conscious, when he spoke up again.

“I want to go home.” It was only a whimper, small and pained in the vast destruction of the night, and it made you want to tear down that stupid bathroom door and pull Yūji into the tightest hug you had ever given anyone. “I want to go home. Not to Jujutsu High. I want to go back to my grandpa’s place. And I want to eat his Naporitan Pasta. And sleep in my old bed. And just forget everything. I just want to feel safe. Just once more. I can’t take this anymore. I just-“

“Yūji, I-“

What were you supposed to say? His grandfather had died over six months ago. The apartment that had belonged to him was empty. Even if Yūji went back to Sendai, there would be nothing left of his old life, there was no way he could ever eat his grandfather’s homecooked meals again. What could you do to help him fill this hole, this loss that was so overwhelming? You had lost family too, but you still had a home to return to, some place to feel entirely safe. The thought, that no matter where Yūji went, he would never feel quite safe suddenly hit you. Not as long as he was possessed by Sukuna.

Suddenly anger bubbled in your chest, pushing aside the grief and fear of the night, and the pain you felt for your friend. As long as Sukuna possessed Yūji, he could never be happy. So you had to find a way to get rid of him.

“Yūji,” you repeated, your voice calmer this time, now that you had finally found a proper thought to express. “I promise you we’ll find a way to exorcise Sukuna. And we’ll free Gojō-sensei and deal with Kenjaku. And when all that is over, we’ll sit down with Megumi and Gojō-sensei and we’ll all make Naporitan Pasta together, in honour of your grandfather. I promise you. So please. Don’t give up. Don’t stop fighting. We need you. I need you. Please.”

Your declaration was followed by more silence, but at least he didn’t seem to throw up anymore.

“Do you promise?” His voice was weak and sounded like he was far away with his thoughts.

“Yes, I do. I promise.”

“Can we have pancakes with strawberries and cream for dessert?”

“As many as you like. I know a really good recipe,” you answered, the weight in your heart lifting a little.

“Okay,” Yūji agreed. “Uhm… can I ask you something?”

“Yes, anything,” you quickly replied, perking up.

“When I open the door… can you- would it be okay if we wouldn’t hug or anything?”

Confused you blinked, but nodded your head before you remembered that he couldn’t see you.

“Oh, ahm, sure. Of course.”

“It’s just-”

“You don’t have to explain-”

“But I want to explain,” Yūji interrupted you. “I just feel like, if someone were to touch me now, I’d have another…” he hesitated for a moment, “another panic attack. Because after all that… how could I allow anyone to touch me, when I’m the one who’s responsible for-”

“You’re not the one responsible! Yūji, please, you need to understand-”

“It doesn’t matter right now, okay? It doesn’t matter,” he interrupted you, sounding impatient. “I just- I just don’t want anyone to touch me, alright? I can’t have anyone touch me. Promise me?”

You took a shaky breath closing your eyes before you answered.

“Okay, I understand,” you assured him. “I won’t touch you unless you want me to, I promise. But I’m here for whatever you need, okay? I also got water and something to eat if you want, alright?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Yūji answered from behind the closed door. “Uhm, one more thing…”

Quietly you listened to what he had to say, blinking your eyes open again.

“I’ve taken quite a beating through the night and Ieiri-sensei couldn’t heal all of it at once so… don’t be alarmed, okay?”

You swallowed, trying to get rid of the painful lump in your throat. You had seen Yūji earlier, before Ieiri-sensei had treated him; you knew what state he had been in. If he warned you now about his appearance…

“I’m not looking exactly fresh either,” you told him, trying to sound cheerful, “I’m sure both of us have looked better than today.”

A small hum sounded from the other side of the door, before you heard shuffling of clothes, the clinking of porcelain against stone tiles and the sound of shoes on dusty ground.

Quickly you scrambled away from the door, but it swung open before you had gotten to your feet. Yūji was right, he still looked quite beaten up. The two worst wounds in his face were healed to fresh, pink scars, but smaller cuts and bruises still littered his skin, not to mention the blood and dust that stuck to his hair and clothes. A red spot was forming on his forehead, slightly swollen with a few scratches in the centre, where he had hit his head against the wall. Underneath his eyes dark circles, quite similar to those of his self-declared older brother, seemed to have taken up permanent residence. Your eyes dropped to his right hand, fresh blood running down his fingers from cuts on the knuckles and dripping to the ground.

“Your hand-!”

Almost you would’ve forgotten what he had requested of you, but your stopped yourself just in time before you reached out, staring up at him from where you were sitting on the ground instead.

“I punched a mirror,” he admitted, his beautiful eyes looking away from you in shame. “I saw those marks under my eyes and I- I got so angry.”

You swallowed again thickly but nodded.

“Let’s get you to Ieiri-sensei,” you decided, scrambling to your feet.

Up closer to his face, you could see the tear streaks on his dusty cheeks. The longer you looked at him the more your heart ached, and the harder it got to stick to your word of not touching him, when all you wanted to do was pull him into a long hug. He sure looked like he needed it. But he had explicitly asked you not to touch him, so you wouldn’t.

“I’m sure she can do something for your hand and those cuts on your arms and stomach.” You gestured to where his uniform had been ripped apart, showing shallow cuts on his pale skin.

“Thank you,” Yūji mumbled, but when you gestured for him to walk ahead, he didn’t move.

“Don’t thank me, thank her,” you tried smiling, knowing you were failing terribly.

“No, I mean… thank you for coming looking for me. And respecting that I don’t want to be touched right now. I know you want to hug me, or want me to hug you… you deserve it so much after this night but I just can’t right now and-“

“And that’s okay. If I want a hug, I’ll ask Panda. He’s cuddly,” you assured Yūji. “I know you feel like the weight of the world is resting on your shoulders. And maybe it is. And while you carry a lot of responsibility, you don’t carry the responsibility of giving me hugs whenever I want them, yeah?”

A small smile tucked at Yūji’s lips, and he nodded. “Thanks for understanding.”

“Sure thing,” you nodded.

“Hey, you said you had something to drink-”

Quickly you dropped the bag to the floor, and pulled out a bottle of the sports drinks, Ieiri-sensei had packed for Yūji and you, handing it to him. He unscrewed it and emptied it in one go.

“Need more,” you offered, holding a second bottle out to him.

“You first,” he demanded, signalling you to drink first.

Obediently you unscrewed the cap and took a few long gulps, the sweetened liquid running down your throat and washing away the salty taste of tears in your mouth.

“How are you,” he suddenly asked, his dark eyes watching carefully as you drank.

After a few sips, you put the bottle down and handed it to Yūji, who eyed it for a moment but waited for your reply.

“Been better,” you admitted. “Tonight was… a lot. But I’m not as badly injured as you – or possessed – so I can’t really complain.”

“Just because others are off worse than you, doesn’t mean you don’t have a right to feel terrible,” Yūji mumbled, chewing on his lower lip. “I know what you’ve seen. Even if it had just been a stupid tv show, or anime or something… the things we saw tonight are enough to give me nightmares for a lifetime. So, I understand how you feel. Don’t down-play it for my sake.” He lifted the bottle to his lips, finishing it as well, before looking back to you again. “I’m asking again. How are you?”

Trying to keep the tears at bay the shot into your eyes, knowing this time you’d have to confront these feeling inside your chest, pursed your lips before answering.

“Horrible,” you pressed out, sniffing.

Yūji nodded. “If you ever need anything, someone to talk to, someone to wake you up from a nightmare… I’ll always be there for you, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. And I’ll be there for you.”

“You already are,” he answered.

Neither of you mentioned when you handed him some cereal bar and he hesitantly brushed the tips of his fingers against yours as he took if from you, or how he grabbed your arm to pull you off the floor.

As you made your way back to the staircase that would lead you to the surface, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was important that it had been you, who had come looking for Yūji. You weren’t sure why, but then the backs of his fingers brushed against yours while walking. Instinctively you wanted to draw your hand away, after all you had agreed not to touch him. But then his pinkie brushed yours again, this time linking with it, and you relaxed. For the first time in hours a part of the tension fell away, and you dropped your shoulders, only focusing on the sensation of Yūji’s warm and rough skin against yours. Maybe he wasn’t ready for a hug, but this little bit of contact, contact initiated by him, was more than enough comfort.

At the foot of the staircase he stopped, bringing you to a stop as well.

“I need you, too,” he admitted, his huge, brown, with pain filled eyes glancing over at you for a moment. Confused you furrowed your brows, but then you understood he was referring to what you had said earlier. That you needed him.

You nodded in acknowledgement, taking a shaky breath when you realized that he was not only referring to the war with the curses you were about to face, but to himself generally. The same way you had meant it earlier.

Yūji gently squeezed your pinkie, and nodded back, before you both faced forward again. It would be a long way, to sitting down with Gojō-sensei and Megumi, eating food together, but you would get there, you knew it. And the first step you had to take was up this dusty flight of stairs, Yūji’s pinkie safely intertwined with yours.

[theblackdahliaemporium]

Medicinal Remedies

Medicinal Remedies-- This is a LONG one!

NOTE: This article is about 20 of my favorite medicinal healing herbs to grow in most garden areas and types of soil. There are 100’s more, though, that I just couldn’t include because of space. Enjoy this rundown of 20 of my favorites.

1) Calendula:

Calendula is one of my top five favorite herbs of all time. It's sunny yellow or orange face can't help but make me smile. In summer time, it grows like crazy, just about anywhere, and like other flowers, the bees love it.

Calendula has some super skin healing and strengthening properties, and I always have some infusing in olive oil in a sunny window for use in salves, soaps, and other body products.

Calendula is also edible, and it's so fun to toss some blooms in your salad! It really brightens things up and adds excellent color. I love Calendula.

Calendula just makes you smile.

2) Cayenne:

Here is another herb I think should be in every garden. Cayenne is a very hot and pretty red pepper with some excellent culinary uses for adding spice to foods.

It's also great for helping with circulatory problems, can be used to help stop bleeding since it's a hemostatic herb, and has been shown to be useful in helping slow or even stop a heart attack until help can arrive.

It's also a very attractive plant, and the bright red of the pepper is just gorgeous mixed Into the dark green of the plant's leaves. This is one herb you should definitely grow if you can, and have handy in your herbal medicine chest.

Cayenne grows like crazy, especially in warmer climates. They dry well, too.

3) Chamomile:

Like Lavender, what would an herbal garden be without sweet Chamomile? It's honey scent and sweet taste are an absolute pleasure. Besides that....Chamomile is a popular relaxant and mild sedative herb.

Need to de-stress? Drink a bit of Chamomile tea!

Chamomile is also useful as an anti-inflammatory, as it contains high levels of azulene. It helps with pain relief, including for arthritis. If you are heading to bed and are bothered by mild pain, try drinking some chamomile tea! In one clinical study, this helped 10 out of 12 people fall into a restful sleep. (Gladstar)

Growing Chamomile can be tricky in very hot climates. It likes full sun, but a cooler climate. Chamomile is also best grown in less maintained soil and doesn't need the rich fertilization other plants require.

4) Chickweed:

Chickweed is another one of those "weeds" that is completely misunderstood and has some excellent medicinal qualities.

It's Latin name, (stellaria) means "star," and that is because of its small, pretty starlike white flowers. It's easy to grow, and has many uses.

Chickweed supports liver and kidney health due to its high nutrition and diuretic properties. It's also wonderful in salves for healing skin issues, including rashes, eczema, and very dry skin.

Chickweed is a great diuretic and blood purifier.

5) Dandelion:

This prolific weed, as some people see when they notice Dandelion in their yard, is actually a powerfully helpful medicinal herb! Dandelion is terrific for your liver and kidney health, having diuretic properties.

It's also an edible plant! You can roast the roots and add it to teas and even your coffee for a delicious flavor that also packs a healthy punch. The leaves can be eaten in salads and other foods.

6) Feverfew:

Feverfew has lovely white flowers and at least where I live, is rather invasive. I don't mind, though, because it has a great number of medicinal benefits.

As its name connotes, feverfew is helpful with reducing fevers. Most recently, however, feverfew has become rather well-known for helping with migraines, both preventing and reducing the intensity and time.

One of my favorite teas to provide for people who suffer from migraines is: 1 part feverfew, 1 part spearmint, and 1 part lemon balm. This is a soothing, nervine combination, that along with the powers of feverfew, can be used as daily tonic.

Feverfew is also great for minor bug bites. Just apply the tincture topically. Since it has mild pain relieving properties, it will help with the discomfort too.

7) Garlic:

Garlic is one of the BEST all around medicinal herbs anyone can grow, in my opinion. It's useful for treating colds, flus, sore throats, and digestive issues. Garlic boosts the immune system by increasing and stimulating the production of white blood cells.

Garlic is antiseptic, anti-bacterial, and vermifuge (kills parasites). It is also useful as a blood purifier and helps promote healthy circulation. It may also help regulate blood sugar levels in those with type 2 diabetes.

Besides all these wonderful benefits, garlic is delicious! It's added to so many foods and dishes because of the flavor it imparts. Granted, using garlic medicinally is different than in culinary uses, but if you really want to "eat thy medicine," as Hippocrates famously stated, garlic is a great place to start.

8) Ginger:

Oh, what would the herb world be without Ginger? This sweet and spicy pungent herb is actually a rhizome, not a root, as many believe. The useful part grows under ground, so is often confused.

Ginger is stimulating and is a great additive for teas, tinctures, and fermented foods, as well as culinary uses. Ginger is anti-inflammatory, decongesting, and increases circulation, promoting warmth. Ginger is also excellent for flatulence and stomach issues, including nausea.

Ginger likes a tropical environment---hot and humid. Therefore, unless you live down South, Ginger would most likely need to be grown in a green house.

9) Lavender:

What would the herbal world be without lavender? It's good for SO many things. Lavender smells wonderful, the bees love it, it's great for medicinal uses, AND it's a gorgeous flower. Lavender is useful for air freshening and cleaning the air or freshening closed up places such as drawers. It's popular in sachets for this reason.

Lavender is actually relatively hardy, growing well in Zones 5 through 8. If you are in a colder zone, be sure to plant your lavender in an area where it will get plenty of sunshine and be as warm as possible. If your winters are rough, you'll need to provide your lavender with some type of protection, especially from harsh winds.

I had some planted in pots here in the mountains, and it did very well all summer long. Even through snows, it was fine. But we get wind speeds over 125 miles an hour at times, and lavender just didn't last through that. Not much will, I guess.

Lavender is useful for so many things---AND it smells incredible.

10) Lemon Balm:

Lemon Balm....I LOVE this species of mint. It smells lovely, the bees love it, and it grows well nearly everywhere. Lemon Balm has a pleasant lemony taste and is a great additive in herbal teas, both for the nutritive value as well as the soothing nature and relaxing effects it has on the body.

11) Marshmallow:

This probably isn't included in too many herbalist's garden lists, but I think Marshmallow is seriously necessary. It's a demulcent and soothing herb, and it complements "hotter" herbs very well. It also soothes inflammation in mucous membranes and is one of my favorite herbs to use for allergy blends or teas for any kind of inflammation in the body for this reason.

Marshmallow is an upright plant, similar to a very small hollyhock. In fact, if you can grow hollyhocks where you are---you can use it pretty much interchangeably with Marshmallow as their chemical constituents are very similar.

The flowers are light pink and very pretty, too. The entire plant is edible and useful for medicinal purposes. Go ahead and throw a few flowers into your salad for a beautiful and surprising presentation!

Marshmallow is a demulcent anti-inflammatory. Plus, it's pretty.

12) Mullein:

This is yet another plant many see as just a weed, but has some truly wonderful medicinal qualities. Mullein is a plant that grows from a rosette of fuzzy large leaves into a tall stalk (sometimes as high as 7 feet tall) and is covered with yellow flowers in mid-summer.

Mullein does best in full sun, with lots of water, in cooler areas. It grows really well in the creek beds up here in our mountains, but I've heard it is very common in almost all places. It's worth trying to cultivate, in my opinion, if you don't have it growing naturally in your area.

Mullein is one of the best herbs you can use to support and heal the respiratory system and illnesses that affect the lungs, sinuses, and breathing. It's useful as a tea, tincture, and the large leaves can be used in an emergency to cover a poultice.

In my opinion, Mullein is the premier herb for respiratory issues.

13) Oregano

Oregano seems to be the bane of many gardener's existence. They plant it, and it just goes crazy. I can't tell you how many neighbors, family members, and friends have given me Oregano from their yards over the years! And I'm glad to have it! The thing with Oregano is you have to know how to manage it.

Oregano is a fabulous culinary herb, and if you have ever had pizza or marinara sauce, then you've tasted this delicious Mediterranean herb. Oregano grows best in warm, dry climates, but I have found in my experience that it is quite hardy and can survive winter lows in the single digits (at least it does in my yard).

Oregano (also known as Mountain of Joy in Greek) has some excellent medicinal uses, including having anti-viral, anti-biotic, anti-fungal properties, as well as being very high in anti-oxidants. It's a great skin care herb and also a digestive aid.

Oregano can be used in many forms, too: As a tincture, an herbal infused oil, eaten in foods, and as an essential oil. These all have different strengths, potencies, and uses.

The tincture is an easy way to use the herb medicinally, along with making or using in an herbal tea.

14) Peppermint:

Super easy to grow just about anywhere, Peppermint is a spreading perennial that has the propensity to take over your garden if you allow it! It's spicy, pungent scent is well known to just about everyone, since it's a popular culinary additive in many foods and candies.

Medicinally, Peppermint is useful for aiding digestion and getting rid of flatulence (gas). It has mild anti-spasmodic properties, so if you are experiencing cramps, especially digestive types or menstrual cramps, it can be very helpful.

15) Plantain:

Here is another weed that many people find repugnant, but that is actually an incredibly useful medicinal herb!

According to Rosemary Gladstar, Plantain grows everywhere, and if you invite it in, it will definitely show up.

Plantain is great for liver health, detoxifying and cleansing the blood, and drawing out toxins. I like to infuse it in oil for use in healing salves.

Like Dandelion, this easy to find weed is edible and useful.

16) Rosemary:

Rosemary is a famous culinary herb, and is great for use on red meats and very pungent dishes. Besides this, rosemary has been proven to be helpful for the brain, especially memory functions.

It's high in anti-oxidants, and has mild analgesic (pain relief) properties. Rosemary is a stimulant herb, and is helpful with circulation and low blood pressure. People with high blood pressure need to exercise caution using rosemary medicinally.

Rosemary grows best in hot, dry climates and is native to the Southern European countries.

Besides being a pungent and delicious culinary herb, rosemary provides medicinal qualities and enhances memory.

17) St. John's Wort:

St. John's Wort is a misunderstood plant, in my opinion. It went through a popular phase a few years ago and was touted as being the new natural anti-depressant. St. John's Wort can absolutely help with feelings of mild depression, sadness, grief, and Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), but it's not a cure-all.

Important to know---St. John's Wort can interact with certain drugs, so be sure you discuss usage with your doctor (as you should with any of these herbs mentioned).

St. John's Wort is also great for neuralgia, and I personally use it as part of my back pain and sciatica regimen with excellent results. I also use it in a tincture form to lift my spirits if I'm feeling down.

Besides all the medicinal qualities of St. John's Wort, it's a really pretty plant. You won't be able to grow it in a super hot area, however, at least it's unlikely. I tried growing it in Las Vegas, and it was a total fail. However, it does well here in the mountains in full sun or partial shade and the cooler climate.

One of my favorite ways to prepare St. John's Wort is as an herbal infused oil. The medicinal species (H. perforatum) releases bright red juices into the oil, creating the most lovely infused oil.

Another safety note for the garden: St. John's Wort has been shown to have potential for phototoxicity, especially in grazing animals if they eat too much. Just be aware and watch what your pastured animals eat.

St. John's Wort is a wonderful healing herb that positively affects the emotions.

18) Thyme:

Thyme, in my opinion, is one of the best plants to use in your garden. It attracts bees, smells lovely, and is incredibly useful for medicinal purposes. It's a small, spreading herb (although some species will grow upright) that is fairly hardy, so if you have rough winters, it may do just fine---you'll be seeing it again in the Spring, with it's pretty scented purple flowers.

Many herbalists forget all about using thyme as a preventative medicinal herb or for helping heal quickly from colds and flus---but it has been shown to fight off colds.

It also has disinfectant properties, and can be used as an effective wash for skin infections or as great sore throat rinse. For medicinal purposes, Thymus vulgaris or Thymus citriodorus (Lemon Thyme) are the best to use.

19) Valerian:

This stately flowering plant can grow to about four feet tall and has lacy white flower clusters. Not only is it a lovely addition to your garden, but it is very useful. It's a strong but safe sedative and is very useful for helping with anxious feelings, sleep issues, and pain relief.

Contraindications: Valerian has the opposite effect on some people, so if you are using it for the first time, do so on a the eve of a day that won't affect you much. These folks are rare, but there are definitely some that don't tolerate it well.

One of nature's best gifts---Valerian is lovely and it is an excellent safe sedative.

20) Yarrow:

Yarrow has many tiny flowers that grow in bunches, and feathery grayish leaves. It's a very pretty plant for your garden. Besides, the parts that grow above ground (leaves, stems, flowers) have medicinal purposes and have been used for thousands of years.

Yarrow is a vulnerary, hemostatic herb. Besides helping with healing and clotting of wounds, yarrow is good for helping reduce fevers, hay fever, and fighting colds. As a fever reducer, it is important to note that yarrow induces sweating, so if the person already has a hot fever, yarrow is probably not the best choice to use.

Article: healing harvest homestead Picture: Nikolaydonetsk – photodune . net