#green tea leaves dried

[divinesolas]

Bound by blood

summary: Its the morning after your unspoken confessions with jacaerys. And you are faced with the aftermath of your actions.

r.q: Ok 1. Your writing is so good 2. I need a part 2 to Jacaerys x alicentdaughter!reader where reader stays with Jacaerys joining team black and we need tk get everyone's reaction to alicent daughter!reader staying like

w.c: 2.1k

c.w: implied smut, alternative timeline, dialogue heavy, nail biter jacaerys, aemond appearance, fluff, even though they are now lovers they still argue lmaooo, not proofread, happy ending!

a.n: heavily requested im so sorry this took awhile and it might not be what people wanted but i hope you all enjoy !! <3

part one part three

Your eyes flutter open and you rubbing your hand to cover your eyes as the bright shining sun begins to shine rays down on you. You look over at the spot next to you expecting to see jacaerys laying next to you but instead you reach over and feel the cold spot next to you. He must have been up for a long time.

A pit forms in your stomach maybe preparing yourself to turn over and see a cup of moon tea sitting on the bedside table but when you’re instead greeted by a folded piece of paper and a cup of water with some fruits.

‘I'm sorry that i will not be here when you awake my love, i had some things i must discuss with my mother. Do not rush yourself but once you're ready you should make your way to the main hall so we can speak.

with all my love, jacaerys’

you sit up, chugging down the cup of water and taking a few bites of the fruit before sliding off the bed, eyeing the red splotches of blood pooling around where you had been laying leaving some dried blood on your thighs. You needed a bath. As if they could read your mind a maid walked in and you jumped.

“i am so sorry for startling you princess.” with a bow of her head you relax and bring the blanket to wrap around yourself suddenly feeling very embarrassed that she saw you like this. An unmarried woman who had clearly been sullied.

“The princess had requested i come here and run you a bath my lady” The princess? your face heats in embarrassment as you can only nod you head. He had told her, of course he would, especially after last night he seemed very keen on you staying here with him.

The only you could think about as you get scrubbed down was the slight ache between you legs and your mother. You wondered how she would react to all this, what was going to happen when you don't return home, or maybe you do but come back? all of your stuff is in the keep but its nothing of true value to you you suppose, everything that matters to you is here because all that truly matters to you is jacaerys.

You worry what your family will think if you don't return home, maybe that they killed you or kidnapped you. Will they send people here to come retrieve you? You wonder what jacaerys is doing right now, is he considering the same things you are?

You're shocked to be presented with a nice black dress instead of your older green one, you stare at your old dress on laying on the ground. You remember when she had gifted it to you, she had said it was hand made for you made in the house color. You remember her face and how she smiled at you when you spun around to show it to her and how she told you how gorgeous you looked. you look back at the maid who was looking at you expectantly and you apologize allowing her to dress you. You cant get hung up on these things, especially now that you’ve chosen to stay it does break your heart a bit to think about the fact that your last conversation with your mother was so short.

You try to suppress your anxiety as you are led towards the main hall where jacaerys had asked you to met him. when you get closer you can hear heavy discussions, you try to softly open the door but once you’re in the room the door closes so loudly behind you you hiss. Dreadfully turning around to see the room full of not only rhaenyra daemon and her children but the velaryon’s and many a council man.

“Good afternoon.” Everyone nods their head at you giving you a good afternoon in return. You don't notice him until he's standing right in front of you, “jacaerys,,”He lifts up your hands and presses a kiss against your lips. “Did you rest well?” You nod and he smiles at you, his hand reaching into his pocket and pulling out a necklace, reaching head hands behind your back to clip it on you.

You grab it in your hands and notice its a black metal sigil of house Targaryen. You look at him and he's just smiling at you, “You like it?” You hum and nod your head, he grips your hand and leads you towards the table where everyone had been standing around watching you. Your face heats when you notice rhaenyra’s happy face and daemons smirk.

“Now that the princess is here might we address the issue at hand?”

“where are we to go from here?”

Jacaerys takes a step closer to the table keeping one of his hands on your back “as i said we will be married tonight-”

You flashes back to last night where he had mentioned over and over again with shake breaths how he would marry you and how he would love to be your husband. You look down at the ground as you flush.

“Not to rain on your parade my prince but i have to be the one to ask it, how do we know the princess is to be trusted?” His hands slam on the table and he leans forward glaring daggers at the lord, “You will not accuse my wife of anything-” You place your hand on his back, “please do not get angry on my behalf Jace its fine. Besides there's something i should bring up.”

Everyone in the rooms attention turns to you, “I think it is best if i return to the keep.” Jacaerys whips towards you with an alarmed look, “what-” “i believe it is best if i inform my family i am staying here in person.” “That is a horrible idea they are animals!” “And you think they would act any better lest they believe me kidnapped?!” “You could send them a letter.” “a letter that you could easily have forced me to write they need to see and hear me say it.” “you are acting irrationally.” “I am acting irrationally?!?! for fearing they shall send their bannermen here to storm dragonstone putting everyone in danger?!”

“do they even like each other?” lucerys whispers to rhaena who just shrugs, baela stands with her arms crossed staring at the pair who are glaring daggers at one another, “they are angry because they care about each other.”

“and you would rather risk your own life?” “it is the best option-” “you are a ridiculous women.” “and you are nothing more than a fool if you believe you are right!”

“and what if they believe you are forced into saying it?” daemon cuts into you and jacaerys argument. You take a deep breath and step away from jacaerys, “They shall believe me, i am family.”

You look at jacaerys who has begun biting on one of his nails with a far away look. You grab both his hands and lace them with yours. “you must realize i am not asking for your permission.” he sighs and rests his forehead against yours with his eyes closed. “You must not leave me.” You can feel his heartbeat in the palm on his hand, beating erratically against his skin. He is afraid. Of not only you not returning back to him because you were forced to stay in the keep but because he is afraid you will not returned because you will be slayed.

“i will return to you i promise.” He is silent for awhile, thinking it over before he nods and takes a step away from you without a word. You turn your attention back to everyone else in the room trying your best to suppress your embarrassment as they give you sly looks.

“I do however agree with my son i worry for your safety should you return to the keep, they are not kind people.”

“I thank you for your worries my queen but unlike the rest of you they consider me their own flesh and blood. the worst that would happen to me is a few bumps and scratches i swear this. As i had been saying it is best if i were to return as soon as possible as i was even supposed to return last night. I am surprised they have not sent anyone to see me.” You know your mother must be worried sick and it leaves a pit your throat that you swallow down to your stomach. You cant think about those things right now.

As if on cue you hear a loud dragon roar from out side and you whip your head around to look out the window. “Vhagar.” “Aemond.” Jacaerys spits out next to you his face angry.

“I should go speak with him.” “I shall come with you.” “absolutely not. I will not have him harm you jacaerys. You remember what he did to you Jace.” You hand running lightly across the cheek where he had been struck.

“I shall go.” “I'm sorry prince daemon but i fear you are the worst option.”

You instead turn to the most familiar face in the room, “ser erryk will you accompany me?” As he was your sworn protector before he had left he nods, “Of course princess.”

A few more exchanges are spent between you and the others in the room, exchanging a kiss with jacaerys before you exit erryk quickly following behind you. Rhaenyra walks over to jacaerys and places her hand on his shoulder. “She will be fine sweetheart. You should not worry.” She rubs his back as he runs his hands down his face. “I hope you are right my queen.” She pinches his back lightly and smiles at him. “You love her.”

“More than anything.”

The grip you have on the fabric in your hand is tight as you quickly make your way down the bridge while aemond gets off vhagar. “Sister I am shocked to see you unharmed.”

“Aemond.” He stares at you with a curious look in his eye. “I had told mother the storm must have kept you held up but she was insistent i come and see you myself. She’s been worried sick.”

“extend my apologies too her.” He raises an eyebrow and looks you up and down. Once you two lock eyes and you stare at him not saying a single word. He seems to catch what you are saying and scoffs. “You are a fool.”

You shake your head at him, “They would not want me home anyway. For i have been tarnished and tainted by one you claim to be a bastard.” He freezes and you catch it even if its for a split second. His eye twitches. He says nothing just stares at you for a long moment. “I thought you were better than this. That you would get over whatever fascination you had with him. But it seems i was wrong.”

“extend my well wishes to sister and mother.” You toss your green dress towards him and he catches it. eyeing it before he looks back up at you. “I should kill you where you stand.” He makes no move to make good on his word, you doubt he fears ser erryk taking a step closer with his hand on his sword. “You do not wish to kill me brother. For there is no worse fate than being a Kinslayer.” Without even sparing another glance at you he climbs on vhagars back and flies off. You do not move from where you stand until he leaves you sight in the sky. a bittersweet feeling filling you stomach knowing it was the last time you would probably see him.

You do not notice you are even crying until ser erryk is crouched in front of you using his cape to wipe your face. “It is for the best princess.” “was it hard to leave your brother ser erryk?” he pauses for a moment, deep in thought before he nods. “It was. but i know it was for the best. You should feel the same.”

You rush back inside and are quickly greeted by jacaerys who was pacing anxiously by the doors his nail in his mouth but he quickly springs into action wrapping his arms around you tightly. burying his head in your neck as he lets out a sigh of relief. “do not worry my love. nothing will separate us.” and it is the truth. for not only a few hours later you two share a blood kiss, bounding the two of your souls together at last.

--

tags: @b00kw0rmsworld

[azrielbrainrot]

Mind Over Matter

Pairing: Eris x Reader

Description: Eris sees you at your lowest and you get a glimpse behind the mask.

Warnings: Angst, Domestic Violence, Injury

Word Count: 3550

Notes: In case it's confusing this is set before Fire on Fire. Hope you enjoy!

Fire on Fire Masterlist

The forest looked beautiful today. The red and orange leaves cast shadows over the whole clearing, and from the tree branch you were sitting at, you could see the birds flying and even some bunnies hopping around the bushes. It had been raining all week but it finally let up this morning, the sun was now shining high in the sky making it a perfect day to sit and read outside.

Even if the season never changes, you can tell apart the “beginning” and “end” of autumn. The leaves are just starting to fall, meaning this would be the beginning of the season. In a few months when the leaves are mostly on the ground, it will be the “end” and then the cycle will repeat itself. You always preferred this time when the sun is still shining and the forest is alive.

It might be summertime in the solar courts from your calculations, not that you've ever stepped foot out of this one, or even out of the city. As much as you love the forests tinged in orange, you can't help but wonder what it would be like if they gave way to different sights every few months.

Perhaps it would make autumn more enjoyable if it wasn't constantly upon you. You think you wouldn't hate the spring or summer, when the sun is warmer and there isn't as much rain, when different flowers bloom making the forests turn into different shades of green and brown and so many other colors.

You haven't been this deep into the woods in a long time, your mother and father had both finally left the house for long enough at the same time after what felt like forever. With the rain, your mother hadn't been invited to any tea parties and your father always seemed to be working in his office nowadays, never even leaving to attend any meetings. Seems the High Lord had given him some important job.

You'd feel bad for whoever had the misfortune of their company today but these are the few moments of peace you can steal for yourself, and you've been praying to The Mother that something came up so your father was called to the Forest House or even further. If it was something scandalous enough it would take your mother to her friend's houses to discuss it among themselves too.

You get so lost in your thoughts and the book you're reading, in the calmness and silence the forest brings you that it's only when you look up at the sky and see it starting to turn the same orange tone as the trees that you realize the sun is almost setting, you were late. You weren't sure how long your parents would be gone for, hopefully they weren't coming before dinner or they would already be looking for you.

Gathering your skirt, you hop down from the thick branch you've been sitting on, shoving your book into the old bag you once stole from one of the many closets in your house. It took you a few tries, and reading a couple of books, but you had managed to charm it to hold a lot more than its size would lead you to believe. You've been using it to keep books, dried flowers you've turned into bookmarks, random trinkets you've found over the years and even a couple of pants. Anything your parents wouldn't approve of you having really, things you actually called your own. Picking it up, you winnow to its hiding place - an old hollowed tree close to the edge of the woods behind your house - and quickly cover it so no one comes across it.

The maids knew you weren't inside, thinking you were in the gazebo watching the flowers, or feeling sorry for yourself, whatever they told themselves you did all day, so winnowing straight to your room wasn't an option. There was also the risk of any of them lingering around and seeing you. The garden had to do then, the servants had probably all left the grounds by then, retiring to their own homes.

You winnow deep into the garden so you're surrounded by bushes, close to the crimson roses that overlooked the side entrance to the estate. You weren't usually allowed on this side of the garden, it was too close to the servants' gate, meaning any of the “lowly” males could see you and you wouldn't know how to defend yourself from their advances. Sometimes you think your father is convinced you need instructions for breathing too.

Waving a hand over yourself to clean off any obvious dirt for the moment, you almost sprint closer to the gazebo, the place the maids would come looking for you when it was time to get ready for dinner.

Your heart stalls in your chest when you turn the corner to find your father walking the grounds. His face turns into stone as soon as he lays eyes on you, making you drop your skirt immediately, smoothing it with your hands out of habit, always trying to appear as polished as you can in front of him.

By his side stood your fiancé, looking as elegant as ever in a black three piece suit, topped off with a muted red tie to match the soles of his shoes. You've never seen his hair this long, it was combed back and tied in a small knot. Your gaze moves back to your father's disappointed face when his eyes meet yours, always so intense and calculating, suffocating even.

It had been years since you'd last been caught outside by your father and, to make matters worse, Eris was here too. At least he only saw you in the garden, even if further in than you're normally allowed. You don't even want to think what would happen if he'd seen you winnow from the woods.

“What are you doing outside at nightfall?” Your father was clearly displeased with you, not only for going against his wishes but also for doing it in front of such an important person.

“I simply got distracted looking at the flowers,” you try to sound as demure as possible, thinking maybe you could fix this by playing dumb since your father probably didn't want to make a scene in front of Eris, “They're blooming so beautifully.”

“You must have been really distracted,” he says as he turns his head menacingly, “since you know you're not allowed to wander around unattended.”

His tone almost makes you flinch, your face dropping. It had been foolish of you to think you could talk yourself out of the situation. Eris' presence wouldn't make your father less volatile, it only made things worse. He wanted to show the other male he was capable of handling his family, not wanting to appear weak in front of the heir.

You hadn't stopped to think that this could also make you less viable for marriage. His daughter being personally chosen by the High Lord as his eldest son's fiancé was your father's greatest accomplishment, and he knew better than you that Beron's mind was easily changed, he wouldn't want Eris to think you might not be the best option after all.

In this moment you ponder tarnishing your reputation as much as you could to get out of this marriage. If only it wouldn't cost you your life with it. Your father always hated the fact that you were born female. A male would bring the family name glory but a female could only hope to wed into a noble family. If you were to lose the High Lord's favor your father would likely lock you away from the world or even dispose of you altogether.

Your father lets out what you think he means as a disapproving sigh, but you can hear the excitement behind it, can see it on his face. He's grown to enjoy the moments when he can put you or your mother in your place, it makes him feel important. He approaches you, moving away from a slightly confused looking Eris.

You knew what was coming as soon as you saw your father pull his hand back, you've been here before many times after all. You close your eyes, feeling the heat approach your face, trying not to let your instincts take over and try to avoid it, that only makes it worse. The force of the slap makes your head turn to the side, your body almost following, but the worst part is the flames, you have to bite your lip not to let out any sound as you feel the burn eating at your skin. You faintly smell burning and try not to think about it, knowing it's the smell of your own flesh.

He holds your chin with a still too warm hand, even if already rid of the flames, and looks into your eyes closely, wanting to revel in your pain. “I've taught you better than this.” He adds another light slap to your face for good measure before letting you go completely. It almost hurts more than the first one, the skin was so tender even just moving your face hurt.

Taking a weak breath in, you try to calm your mind, ignore the pain and rage warring inside you. Clutching tightly onto your dress to keep your hands occupied, in case your mind slips and you burn his face in rage the same way he keeps doing to yours. You feel the flames wanting to rise up to your skin but firmly snuff them out, making sure they stay safely hidden deep inside you until it's the right time.

The pain has gotten easier to bear over the years, now you close your eyes not from fear but to calm yourself. You don't have the strength to go against him yet or a plan for a safe escape, you refuse to lose your life so easily after enduring this for so long. One day you will make him pay for everything he has put you through but first you need a plan and you need to be stronger.

This time it was different though, Eris was watching, you could feel his gaze burning into your skin deeper than your father's fiery palm ever could. There had been witnesses to his cruelty before, even outside your family and servants, you had seen pity, satisfaction and even trained blankness in their faces, had learned to ignore them and not ask for help under any circumstance - it took you too long to realize that the ones showing pity know your pain or are as powerless as you.

But, for some reason, knowing Eris, your future husband, the heir to the throne, is watching makes you want to cry for the first time since you were a child. You bite your lip and clench your fists as hard as you can, opening your eyes only enough to look to the ground, hoping your face isn't giving away too much or the burn was at least enough to hide it.

Suddenly interested in studying the cobbled stones you've walked on for decades, you notice your earring fell off, the ruby glinting in one of the little nooks in between stones, suffocated with no place to escape to just like you felt. You briefly wondered if it had simply gotten loose with the force or if it was ripped off your earlobe, but the pain on the side of your face was too intense to be able to pinpoint a specific area. A ripped earlobe was the least of your concerns anyway.

“What do you think you're doing?” All your thoughts evaporate when you hear his voice. He sounds uncharacteristically angry, you've never seen him lose the teasing lilt to his words or crafted nonchalant tone. You can't help but look up at him with wide eyes, not even remembering the shame you had felt before.

“Not to worry. Her face will be healed by tomorrow morning,” your father barely hesitates, assuming the anger wasn't directed at him hitting you, “I wouldn't give you damaged goods, my lord.”

Sometimes you wonder how your father had lived for so long, how he managed to become important enough that he not only worked for Beron but the High Lord would also want his heir to marry you, when he could be this dense. It was clear Eris wasn't worried about your face, his anger was almost palpable.

You know he wears a mask like no one else, you've seen it in action, but, if your father hadn't been so self-absorbed, if it was Beron standing in front of him, this would end very differently. Because the mask had fallen at the same time your stupid earring did. What was staring at you was Eris' true face. Your father was too thick to notice but you could gamble your life on it.

It showed his unrestrained fury and power rumbling just beneath his skin, you're not sure how your father didn't notice the way the temperature rose around them, the air suddenly resembling the summer you had just been longing for. His gaze burned hotter than lava and the planes of his face carved out the perfect personification of fury. His face was the perfect picture of the new High Lord of the Autumn Court. It was all fire, beautifully and all consuming.

He was making a bigger effort of not hurting your father than you were. When your eyes met you could almost see him forcefully pushing his feelings away, stuffing himself down with them, burying them deep inside him to keep the plot he's been writing for centuries intact. Still, his gaze lingered on your marred cheek too long, you think you even see his fingers spasm, as if wanting to reach out, if it was to console you or to snap your father's neck you couldn't be sure but the sentiment behind it was the same.

You almost gasp as the realization comes to you. The look on his face isn't all anger but what's underlining it isn't pity, it's the face of someone who understands. He's been in your same place. It shouldn't be a surprise to you, Beron's cruelty will far outlive his name, but it's hard to imagine Eris, inarguably the second most powerful fae in this court, in your place.

Your stomach twists at the implications. If even he can't fight Beron, what hope do you have of escaping your father? Especially now that he's aligned himself with the High Lord? It's in this moment that you know Eris' warnings were correct, there's no use running, you wouldn't make it but a couple steps.

“She needs a healer to fix her face,” you can almost see him choosing his words, playing into your father's narrative enough while trying to help you as much as he can. You're starting to think you have Eris figured out. Is this how he has survived this long? “See that it gets done quickly.”

He leaves without another word, turning away from you father and letting his eyes linger on your burnt flesh one more time before winnowing out of your estate. You don't look away from where he'd just been even when your father grabs your arm and pulls you along on his way inside the house, cursing you with every step. You wouldn't be able to leave your room and escape into the forest for a while.

Later that night, when you're returning to your room, after a healer treated your wounds as usual, and made sure Eris' goods wouldn't be permanently damaged as your father had so lovingly put it, you find a vaguely familiar, faint scent lingering in the air, it makes your heart stop.

Thankfully, the maids didn't accompany you to your room, they didn't like treating you cruelly but helping you could get them in trouble with your father so they'd rather just watch in silence, or, even better, turn their face whenever it was possible.

If they had followed you, they would have noticed the scent, would run and tell your father. You're not sure if they'd recognize it as his, he doesn't visit your house often after all, but the spicy scent was unmistakably male. It's better not to think of the amount of trouble you would be in if they smelled it.

You walk to the window first, opening it as wide as you can so the chilly night air fills the room instead, making sure there would be no residuals in the morning when they came to wake you. Looking up at the full moon in the cloudy sky, feeling the wind turn to ice against the side of your face still covered in a thick cooling salve and wrapped in bandages, you hesitate one more time before moving to the foreign items sitting at your vanity table, undoubtedly left behind by your dear fiancé.

Eris left you a tiny bottle with some strange bluish liquid inside accompanied by a small red velvet box tied off with a golden ribbon. You know he won't poison you, the bargain won't allow it, but you weren't sure what else he could do if he let his imagination run wild. You decide reading the note set on top of the box might give you an idea.

He has no right to treat you like this. I'm sorry I can't do more to help you for now but I promise there will come a day when he won't be able to hurt you anymore.

The note wasn't signed but you knew it was his. Even after your agreement, you didn't think he would try to make you feel better, even going as far as risking getting caught while dropping this off, since this fragile alliance of yours had been neither of your first choices.

You pick up the bottle and uncork it, immediately recognizing the calming scent of a sleeping draught. It would help with your nightmares. This is a generous amount too, it can last you a while. You set it back down and untie the ribbon, opening the box to find some chocolate and sugar cookies.

A sleeping draught and cookies. Never in your life had you received anything like this. You can't even admit it to yourself but this is by far the most thoughtful gift you've ever gotten from anyone.

He had to have an idea of how awful your father was to you, you told him as much when you made the bargain, but he might not have realized he went as far as physically hurting you. Eris knows the pain of an abusive father, of being haunted by their cruelty even in your dreams. So, he gave you the draught to help you even a little and the cookies to console you, something sweet to fend off the pain.

Just when you were starting to feel thankful for Eris, thinking you might have been too harsh on him before, you notice something else written on the other side of the note. Turning it around and reading it as well.

I wasn't aware you could winnow so well. Just how much are you hiding from your family, doll?

Your entire body tenses at the words, turning the paper into flames lest anyone reads it. He knows. You've managed to hide this ability from everyone for decades, but now Eris, of all people, knows. You're not sure how he noticed when your father didn't. He could have arrived before him, could have wandered around the grounds without anyone knowing. Is it possible that he knew where you went? No, he couldn't have come from the forest in time to talk to your father and see you.

You hold your hand up to rub over your chest, simultaneously trying to calm your racing heart and feeling the mark of the bargain woven into your soul, trying to reassure yourself. He's your ally. He won't tell anyone, the bargain won't allow it. But what could he do with this information? You had the upper hand when you made the bargain but it feels like he just stepped ahead.

After a few moments of breathing in the cold air still seeping into the room and settling your mind, you sit down on the chair by the vanity unceremoniously, letting your head drop into your hands for a moment. A heavy sigh escapes you as you open the cookie box again. What kind of person sends you gifts and includes a mildly threatening message with them. Must he always push your buttons like this?

You take a bite out of a chocolate cookie and let the delicious taste melt in your mouth, eyeing the small bottle. It seems you'll need to use it tonight, you definitely need a good dreamless sleep after the rollercoaster of emotions you've been through the whole day.

What you fail to notice is that, between the chocolate and sugar cookies you keep munching on and the annoyance now targeted towards Eris, your face barely even hurts anymore and you weren't left thinking of the deep rooted ache in your soul after your father hurt you yet another time.

[st4rbwrry]

LUV THIS SHIT | eren yeager.

‍ ‍ ☆. warnings — 3.1k. fem!reader, eren’s pent up from working out, asmr sexting, submissive reader, impact play [ face smack, spanking ] public arousal, indecent behavior, mating press, f!oral, fingering, profanity, established relationship, lots of making out, unprotected sex, eren’s aggressive, floor sex, riding, creampie, artist!reader, pet names, reader has black features, minors aren't allowed! 

‍ merry christmas! ♡

eren starts his day the same every morning. the alarm goes off at six o'clock which is never your favorite thing to hear considering you're not an early bird. usually groaning in your state of sleep and tugging the blankets away from him after he kisses you on your forehead and steps out of bed. you always snuggle on his side before the warmth he created grows cold. proceeds to take a steaming hot shower, tilting his neck back to let the heavy beats of water dampen his long hair. lathers his body with african black soap you picked up from a shop while SONDER plays from his speaker, careful not to blast it too loud to wake you up. it's your off day so he's respecting your wishes to hibernate all day.

he honestly hates leaving you alone in bed. sue him but being your little spoon is the best thing he's ever known. he's never slept so good in his life until he met you. never knew it felt so comfortable being in another persons arms. eren’s next step is to dress for the gym, the only reason he's up this early three times out of the week. a dark gray towel is wrapped low around his slim waist, tatted chest and arms running with water droplets as he wipes the foggy mirror clear to see his reflection. washing his face with a kale, spinach, and green tea cleanser along with brushing his teeth, cleaning his tongue with a scraper and gargling mouthwash. he forgets to do this backwards sometimes considering he has to eat first. the taste lingers and makes his food nasty.

afterwards, he’s moisturizing his face with cerave healing ointment and his pouty cotton candy lips with one of your babylips sticks. lathering his body in vaseline coca butter lotion and slipping on a olive green colored sweatpants with a black cropped metallica muscle tank, wrapping a matching black bandanna over the top of his towel-dried chestnut hair. he spritz this cologne you picked up at the mall when thinking of him called art deco amberwood by clive christian. makes you fall to your knees to suck him off every time now that he thinks about it.

by then it's near seven and he's down in the kitchen with his black airpod max’s over his ears listening to jazz while he blends his smoothie with spinach, kale, strawberries, blueberries, and pineapples. he gulps that down after filling a mason jar completely. and for further consumption, he makes avocado toast topped with chia seeds, himalayan salt and pepper and two strips of bacon each.

before he leaves he makes sure to run back up the stairs to double check on you to see if you needed anything before he left such as picking up a coffee from dunkin or anything from the art supply store. he peaks his head through the door to see you sprawled out, mouth open and snoring peacefully, cuddling his pillow. he smiles to himself, mumbling ‘my pretty girl’ before quietly tiptoeing close to the king-sized bed with satin sheets to give you a kiss or two before heading out, moving your bonnet aside to whisper that he loves you.

he's got his gym bag and his car keys when he leaves, taking the elevator down the parking lot of the loft you two live in, three years now. he finds his car parked directly next to yours. cute. the pretty wolf gray kia k5 besides his onyx lexus rc 300. there's a gym located in the building but he prefers the one your brother owns a few minutes out of the area.

it's around ten o'clock when you fully wake up, missing his presence already and pouting about it before heading to the shower yourself. sitting in a towel for a full hour stuck on tiktok and getting a craving for samyang carbonara noodles and rice cakes. it's really the only thing that made you leave the house today, throwing on a pair of eren’s gray nike shorts you had to roll up to properly sit on your hips, and a black tank, jewelry remaining on your skin everyday from layered necklaces to multiple bracelets. 

you're sitting in the starbucks drive thru which has an incredibly long line but you're not minding the wait, craving a pink drink suddenly. the sun was hitting nicely into your car so you decide to take photos to pass a little time, thumb slipping and accidentally opening the voice memos app with only four recordings, one of them fairly new. created about two weeks ago and you vaguely remember that night. it's about an hour and fifteen minutes long

'luv this shit <3’ is what it's titled. not remembering exactly how it went. you and eren only used this app whenever you're having sex, meaning those four audios were strictly nsfw. you bite your lip in curiosity, deciding to press play to hear it, flinching when you hear how loud you were screaming on top of forgetting that your phone is connected to your cars bluetooth. you swallow in panic, turning it off and sitting back in silence, twiddling your fingers, becoming impatient with the line now because you wanted to hear it. it had to be something the two of you made when you were intoxicated. or else you would've remembered it.

you've retrieved your pink drink, and now it was time to park, too impatient to wait and hear this. sipping your drink, you get comfortable, holding your phones speaker to your ear and pressing play yet again. there's music playing in the background, luv this shit by august alsina in specific, now you knew where the title came from. probably eren’s doing. a rush of heat swarms your cheeks and gut as you hear your boyfriend’s voice, deep and stern as he talks to you while skin connects and your moans overshadow the music. the sound of you kissing wetly makes you shift in your seat, feeling his soft lips on yours at the moment. you loved kissing him.

it lasts for about two minutes before eren’s voice becomes louder than yours when he's fucking you hard, your voice muffled by your hand you assume, doing that a lot since you think you're too loud. “let me fuckin’ hear it,” there's his voice again, unconsciously whimpering along with yourself in the audio. eren’s whining with you, the two of you gasping and listening to how wet you were. a loud smack erupts and you're crying his name, the memory slowly coming back. he smacked your face. the jewelry on his wrist prominent when he does it again, this time it's the outside of your thigh.

“rennnnnn! fuh-uuck.”

“i hear you, baby. come on, come on, come on, cum, cum, cum.” with every thrust he gets louder, hissing as your pussy constricts around his dick. “that's it, pretty. yeah.”

you nearly spill your drink over your lap, the cup slowly slipping from your grip after you zoned out, catching it quick and collecting yourself, setting it in the cup holder. you need to leave. actually, you need to send this to him. he has to be done at the gym by now. then again, you're never sure with him. the man could work out all day if he wanted.

being risky, you grin, pulling up his contact and sending him the audio, following with a text that said . . .

NEW MESSAGE

kuromi princess hello kitty baby star ♡

don't we sound pretty? <3

follicles of eren's hair stick to his sweaty forehead, putting it up before he started his workout, going on for about three hours now. RICH FLEX blasts in his headphones. the neckline of his top is doused with sweat, removing the boxing gloves off his hands to sit down and gulp a full bottle of water. checking his phone, he sees your message. lifting his brow at the audio you had sent, reading your response, and clicking it without hesitating. immediately when he hears your desperate pleading and skin smacking, his pupils dilate, clenching his jaw and checking his surroundings. not many people were in this area of the gym.

“fuck me, baby. fuck me, baby. fuck me, babyyy,” eren listens with wide eyes as he hears your pretty moans, skipping through the audio to hear bits and pieces.

“yeah, speak to me like that.”

eren grows shamelessly aroused from what he's hearing, swallowing hard and shifting his dick back in place, breathing heavier. he's mad at you. mad because you know he's in public and he gets easily turned on by anything regarding you. whether it be your scent, your smile, your eyes, or your fucking voice. when you talk, or scream his name. it's all the same. he's triggered by it all. and you know this, so why test him? not to mention the two of you haven't been sexually active because you've been caught up with work and painting and he's been working doubles. the only time you spend together is brief mornings in bed or one day weekends, usually sleeping all day or being lazy.

all he can think of this moment is fucking you rough and raw. gathering his belongings without another thought and sending you a brief text.

pretty boy ren <3

yea, okay.

it's so stressful walking with a hard dick, and eren really can't wait until he gets home to fuck you up. such a dirty girl needing to be put in place. he forgets his headphones have noise cancellation, so when he's speeding home like a dummy, music continues to thrum in his ears, acting like a complete madman. exactly five minutes before he enters the apartment, you're sitting in your usual corner of the loft where you've made your art station. sitting on the ground while incense flows and sza’s new album plays soundly. a canvas laying on the ground where you sat on a cushion, finger painting a collage of the weeknd’s discography since it's the 11th anniversary for echoes of silence. unaware of the message you received.

that is until you hear the familiar sound of keys jangling and in a matter of seconds, the front door flies open, there standing a big, tall, visibly irritated man. your eyes go wide from seeing him, eren kicking off his shoes, heavy feet stomping towards you and you sit up with curiosity, trying your hardest to hide your devious smile. you knew it'd have that effect on him. eren’s hot hand grabs your jaw fervently, clenching his before yanking your face close to his to connect your lips in a heated kiss. smacking his lips roughly over yours, moaning into his mouth, his eyes focused on your face as you close your eyes too comfortably for his liking. as if you're not in trouble for the shit you pulled.

your hands kept to yourself on either side of his wide shoulders, eren dragging you down to lay on your back onto the cushion you previously sat on, slipping off the black panties covering your neglected pussy, weeping, and waiting for him to get home to do exactly this. staring up at him with glee in your eyes, it's the opposite in his. he can't hear a thing you say because of his headphones, not bothering to toss them off because the only thing on his mind is sliding his dick inside of you and getting his nut off.

raising your knees without his help, he's pushing them further up to your chest, folding you still before arching his neck to release globs of spit onto your cunt three times max, each one emitting a ‘puh’ sound. you clench from his dirty act. his big body hovers over yours, heavy dick practically drenched in precum resting on your mound before eren angles his hips to slip into you. he doesn't give you time to brace yourself, gasping as he groans and thrusts his hips fast, your skin clapping and body jerking under him. beautiful green irises switching darker as he stares into your soul, your moans faintly being heard.

“think you fuckin slick, baby?” eren rasps, your mouth agape, his grip on your thighs harsh. “did that shit on purpose just so i can fuck that pretty pussy stupid on my cock, right?”

“y-yess,” he watches you nod drunkenly, your hands digging on your sides into the rug beneath you. every pound into your slick pussy vibrates into your throat, following his rhythm. happy tears brim your eyes.

“s’okay. ‘cause i got something for you.”

his pace hastens, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he drills deep, jackhammering almost, like a needy, inexperienced boy. your cunts squelching loud, hand pressing at his abdomen in attempt to slow him down but he only fucks you harder, air knocking from your lungs. it's so fucking hot the way he's handling you right now, like he's been so deprived of you for so long he couldn't stand it. couldn't even take his clothes fully off, keeping every piece on because he needed you that badly.

“ooh, i'm fucking cumming. ssss, fuck,” eren moans. you squeal as eren takes both your arms and crosses them over your tummy, holding them there while he puts his weight on you and grunts in your face. sweat dampening his bandanna, breath mixing with yours as he cums inside you. coating your walls with thick spurts of white. your knees buckle from the feeling, his lower halve twitching from the rush.

eren licks his lips, stilling his movements to take a breather, knocking back one of the ears to his airpods to hear how desperate you sound, slowly pulling his dick out, still hard.

“eren, i didn't cum,” you whine, squirming with an attitude.

“i think i knew that.”

you put your middle finger up to him for his smart ass tone, eren arching a brow and scooping you up without another word. smiling, you cling to him as he moves towards the couch, deciding to stay seated on the floor, lifting you so you sit on his lap. his cock resting on his stomach where you're able to see toned abs and a dark, neatly trimmed happy trail to match your cute brazilian strip all cause of that slutty, grunge crop top he has on. his back rests against the furniture. you take the initiative to remove these stupid headphones so you could put your hands and mouth around his neck.

“i don’t think you understand how much i thought about fuckin’ you today. you really fuckin’ don’t.” eren lands a heavy hand on your ass causing you to jump and scoot forward from leaning back on his knees. “could barely fucking focus. all because you sent me that shit.”

“and because you miss me,” you whisper, delicately skimming your lips over his, arching into him as he spreads your ass cheeks apart after smoothing over them. spanking you hard on either side until you gasp into his mouth and he could kiss you again.

“sink on it real slow,” eren taps your clit with the tip to say he wants it done now. sucking on your lip, you raise yourself till he's kissing the entrance and gently easing down, indenting crescent moons into his broad shoulders momentarily. dragging your hands to your waist, you rub over your body, hissing and throwing your head back, feeling a storm of euphoria fuel you. eren hums in fascination as you lose yourself in the bond.

“g’na say sorry with your pussy, baby?” eren taunts in a baby-like tone.

“mhmm,” what eren wants, eren gets. and if he wanted you to ride his dick you were going to. getting up on the tips of your toes and rode only on the tip first, eren choking on his spit with brows furrowed and praising you. soon, inching lower to bounce yourself up and down to his liking, being sure to clench your walls a little tighter just to hear him whine. when eren gets really feral he gets really loud. unable to control what his vocal cords let out. he used to think it was embarrassing, but the two of you have shared enough time together to dismiss judgment. he sounds so pretty when he's getting fucked good.

“shit, you keep fuckin’ me like that m’ not gonna last,” ignoring him, you continue to clap your ass down, skin interaction picking back up, eren’s hands on your hips just for leverage. he never needs to guide you. a few squeezes occasionally since he's so sensitive. painfully aroused it makes no sense.

“i can't last long,” you warn, pawing at his chest as you raise your ass and fuck him faster, eren moaning and helping you out by pounding up into you. you fall forward into his arms, yanking you down each time you'd rise back up. smacking your ass just to hear your voice pick up. “eren, fuck baby!”

“unh huh, keep goin’,” eren’s face scrunches up, whining in your ear while keeping one of his tatted arms wrapped around your backside. your thighs begin to burn but you know stopping isn't an option when he sounds that good in your ear. eren gets aggressive and hits into you harder, same time ass you drop down with more force, tugging at his hair and he whimpers your name.  “keep that shit up, baby. yeahh.”

it feels so good you start crying, missing this so much. holding onto him for dear life as he somehow moves quicker, slouching in his spot so his neck settles back onto the couch, slipping his right hand under your right thigh and raising his hips to fuck up into you, lifting you like you're one of his weights at the gym. you watch as he mumbles ‘fuck’ with his eyes scrolled back and mouth wide open, jawline sharp, and adam’s apple in his throat prominent. he looked so fucking good right now you just had to kiss his neck. eren hitting that spot so good you can't control yourself from screaming, mouthing at his neck and leaving hickeys. he smells good, hints of musk and that damn cologne you love, feels good, looks even better. then wonders why you act the way you did. he’s made a monster.

“you fuck me so good, ‘ren. love you so much, missed you so much,” at this point you're babbling, saying anything that comes from your brain mindlessly. it's enough to make eren bellow streams of curses before hiking your ass off and nutting over your back, eren releasing a high-pitched gasp as he stares up at the ceiling in a daze. vision blurry. 

before you complain, eren’s lifting you higher and scoots further down to sit you on his face, hot mouth munching on your soaked cunt with puffy lips. your eyes cross and you scream into the air, gripping the couch as he slides two fingers, middle and pointer, deep into your hole, thrusting while his fat tongue laps at your clit, silver cuban link on his wrist cold on your stomach. he's swallowing your arousal like he's drinking a glass of water, moaning into your pussy and spanking your ass with his unoccupied hand.

“oh my . . .  god,” you're breathless as you cum, legs twitching and squealing from the intensity of your orgasm, losing balance and falling forward. eren smirks and smacks your ass one last time before moving from below you, sitting on his knees behind you and pushing your back down to fix your arch, turning your head to face him, fucked out face staring at him like he was crazy for putting his dick back inside you. you already feel so sore. 

eren arches his brow. “oh, you thought i was done?” 

[charliemwrites]

Making this a separate post because the idea has evolved a bit:

(Was talking about this in the discord if it looks familiar)

I’m thinking less of a 1 to 1 Greek god au. I’m thinking it’s more of a theme to their dynamic and in parts of their story.

Johnny is a reincarnation of some ancient, nameless (or many-named) god, associated with dark forces. He’s not evil incarnate. But he is something of a representation of “darker” human nature. Anger, bloodlust, impatience, selfishness.

Persephone!reader, by comparison, is sort of a personification of gentler human nature. Patience, mercy, altruism, gentleness. She is less “awakened” so to speak because her mother has been a major limiting factor in her life. Like, helicopter parent to the extreme.

Persephone!reader goes to her aunt Laswell as a sort of compromise. See the world, the real world, in a controlled sort of way with her aunt watching carefully over her shoulder.

Problem is, no one is expecting the dreams to start as soon as she gets to base. Dreams of a man that scares her as much as tempts her, and encouraging the worst and most selfish of her impulses. She doesn’t tell anyone - why would she? They’re just dreams.

Captain MacTavish scares intimidates her, even though she insists that he doesn’t, looking him in the eye with her chin tilted up defiantly. When he’s on base he finds all sorts of ways to cross her path, sometimes teasing her into an indignant fluster, other times telling her off for “distracting recruits”. Always, always has an eye on her, even if it’s not his own.

Once things come to a head (I haven’t figured out how yet) Persephone!reader insists it isn’t fair. And just because they’ve been something in the past doesn’t mean they have to now.

Johnny, of course, is utterly amused. She’s barely got any idea what’s going on, but sure, she’s going to deny forces beyond life and death.

They strike a deal. When he’s away (for months at a time… a season’s length, even) she can run and hide and do whatever she wants to “escape” him. If he cant find her within a week of coming back, then he’ll leave her be and she’s “free”.

(She scoffs that he’s going to cheat, using her aunt and all of her connections but he just scoffs. As if Laswell would help him over her own niece. And as if he needs the help.)

He always finds her within a day of coming back from a mission. No matter where she is or what her name is. No matter how well she covers her tracks (even with Laswell’s help). He comes to her with gifts.

At first it would be sweet if not for the smirk on his face and the realization that she’s “lost” again. He brings flowers of all kinds, and green plants in little pots. Then it’s a new sweater, a nice coat, a piece of jewelry.

And then… and then they get worse. A bullet is the first sign. It’s just a whole bullet, her name engraved in its side. Then it’s a casing, the bullet clearly having been shot. He tells her it went right between someone’s eyes. The “gifts” become patches from enemy jackets, pretty stones splattered with dried blood, a human tooth.

It’s awful. She hates it. She can’t ever make herself say it (or believe it). And when he’s gone, she physically can’t make herself throw them away. Shes tried and tried, and the last time she put a real effort into it, she ended up on the floor having a panic attack, sobbing and calling Johnny.

(He purrs at her through the phone, gunfire background noise while he soothes her back inside. His voice keeps her company while she makes a tea, readies a bath. Tuts at her to call him again when she’s tucking into bed. She refuses to acknowledge that she does.)

Similarly, she finds herself getting or making things for him. For his inevitable return. Cigars and his favorite whiskey. Making patches for his uniform. A leather bracelet with her initials on a silver charm. A ring with an inlay the color of her eyes. Doesn’t even realize what she’s doing until she’s home or the thing is done. She’ll hide them away for months with no plans of giving them to Johnny. He inevitable finds them within his first week home anyway.

(There’s the one time she bakes for him, humming as she measures and mixes ingredients. Lets him steal tastes from the bowl and lick flour off her cheek. Only realizes what she’s done in a domestic haze when he’s eaten the sweet treat and thanked her for it.)

And when he’s home…

The deal is that when he’s home, he gets to treat her like his. Climbs into her bed, grumbling about pillows being a poor substitute for him. Steps into her shower midway through, ducking his head so she can shampoo and condition his hair with her gentle hands. Dresses her in his clothes, in his dog tags. Always has a hand on her, even in her (their) home.

And he delights in yanking her into his lap - especially in public. When his team comes to visit (and they always do) he lounges with her on his thigh. He’s also kind of a dick. Like he’s courteous to servers (mainly female ones because chances are they won’t flirt with his girl) but pretty much any stranger talking to him or his Persephone is met with smarmy asshole behavior.

It’s to the point that she just fusses at him to let her talk to people. And he’s happy to do so, amused by the way she charms people. He only intervenes when someone is rude or a little too friendly with her. She’s had to break up bar fights before because god knows his men won’t try to stop their captain.

She is literally the only being in all of history that can tell him no and stop and he’ll listen regardless of the situation. She has to actively remind herself that it’s not healthy and she should not be a little flattered about it. And she’s not. (She is.)

[nanavn]

For @shanastoryteller who asked for the gut bacteria expert's* recipe:

The professor's green energy smoothie

Ingredients

(two servings, according to the original)

half an avocado

half an apple

the juice from half a squeezed lemon

1 pinch fresh ginger

10 grapes or half a kiwi

5 dried walnuts

1 sheet nori (the kind used for sushi)

4 bunches of spinach

1 bunch parsley

a handful of broccoli

a handful of bean sprouts

half a glass of herbal tea

Preparation

Prepare the vegetables and fruits by removing the core from the apple, the peel from the kiwi, etc.

Put the vegetables in the blender with the herbal tea (cooled) and blend until it becomes a very fine-grained, green and fragrant smoothie.

Garnish with fresh herbs according to your taste preferences.

From https://livsstil.tv2.dk/mad/opskrift/professorens-groenne-energigroed (translation: https://livsstil-tv2-dk.translate.goog/mad/opskrift/professorens-groenne-energigroed?_x_tr_sl=auto&_x_tr_tl=en&_x_tr_hl=da)

My tips

The taste is pretty neutral (YMMV) but if you substitute ingredients, it may affect the taste - cabbages in particular

I usually double the recipe and have it over two days - I can't be bothered to keep half an apple lying around

I use a tall container with a volume of 1,6L/3.4 pint - that's on the small side for my version

I wouldn't make bigger portions than can be eaten over two days, and unless consumed straight away it must be kept in the fridge - you're risking a bacteria bomb instead of a nice smoothie...

I rarely use lemon, but use a few good slices of ginger (peel the whole chunk, slice and freeze for less fuss)

If you live near an Asian market, they probably have bigger packs of nori. I buy one with 50 sheets - it's *much* cheaper per sheet than the supermarket's price

I skip the parsley (can't be bothered) and buy chopped (see next bullet point) frozen spinach and add to taste

Instead of broccoli (expensive; doesn't last long in the fridge) I buy whatever cabbage is cheapest and use a large handful of it chopped up some (the fibres in cabbage and whole spinach leaves does not play well with my blender - YMMV)

I use a large mug of herbal tea and add psyllium husk for more fibre

In general I substitute/add veggies/fruits if I have something going a bit overripe (buying a load of bananas cheap and freezing them if they go brown before eating: also great for this); if I'm out of grapes, I add raisins ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

IIRC he's a proponent of using organic prooduce. As you can tell from my notes I'm cheap and/or poor cost conscious, so I buy the cheapest. It's up to you :)

I eat this in addition to whatever fruits&vegs I usually have - it's an easy way to up my intake and get some things I don't eat a lot of (e.g. cabbage, spinach)

I make my own beansprouts - but this is already too long, so it's in the next post

*Oluf Borbye Pedersen - from the link:

Intestinal Microbiome Research OP is a leading partner in the EU-Metahit initiative (www.metahit.eu) which delivered the first and second gut microbial gene catalogue of 3.3 and 9.9 mio microbial genes, respectively, from the human intestinal tract.  With quantitative metagenomics he and his team demonstrated in a population sample that about a fourth of adults is markedly deficient in gut microbiota diversity. The same individuals were featured by insulin resistance, overweight, dyslipidaemia and proinflammation. OP et al. reported the first quantitative metagenomics study of gut microbiota in type 2 diabetes, prediabetics and women with gestational diabetes and they discovered a new biological fingerprint, gut enterotypes of the human host. In addition, in recent studies of the human gut microbiome, Pedersen and colleagues have teased out drug effects versus disease effects on gut bacteria composition and function. Recently, they reported the first example of gut microbes linked to human insulin resistance. Mechanistically the investigators extended and validated their findings in in rodents. The Pedersen team has done several interventions targeting the human gut microbiome and blood metabolome including the impact of broad-spectrum antibiotics and of dietary gluten content, respectively. Studies that influence dietary and medical practice.

[aweina]

ᰔ. a gift for you : sub-zero. scorpion + smoke.

there was an array of young flowers tucked between the glossy leaves, warm paper lanterns guide you through the maze of flora. there’s water colored butterflies sipping the nectar of your favorite flowers, the scent of honey and earth soothing your nerves. bi-han has gifted you a greenhouse. considering the fact that the lin kuei palace contains lots of open land to train on — it was fitting to add something less grueling and tense. he directly thought about you, encased with delicate, floral pieces as you beam at the variations of flowers and other greenery you always mentioned during your afternoon walks. it started off with short nods, listening intently to your frantic words with amusement. then he’d silently gift you engraved pots filled with young flowers and all the needed tools to build a lively collection of plants. that didn’t seem enough. the grandmaster always had urges for something more, something greater, that he also applied it to you or rather, your fondness over flowers. since the freezing climate wasn’t so fitting for sun enriched plants, constructing a greenhouse would be fitting and also, fulfilling for him to do in secret. it was hard work to pull it off. there were times you nearly spotted it in the middle of its development and your suspicion towards bi-han’s sudden interest in flora made him sweat icicles, but it was all worth seeing your radiant smile in the end. for now on, he’ll find you within the maze of bustling blossoms — individually nurturing them with love and care and amusingly talking to the clusters of flora like little children. at that the thought of your happiness, he smiled under his mask.

the parchment felt light and airy in your grasp, but much more of them were tied with a silk string — each individually sealed with set red wax, blotches of little lighthearted notes and tea stains smudged along the handcrafted envelopes. they smelt faintly of sweet herbs and dried ink. kuai liang has gifted you a collection of love letters. it all started when he met you, his usual writing was put off for his lin kuei duties, leaving the pens to dry off and the stacks of parchment to pile dust bunnies. then your gentle presence gave him a boost to write small notes in the middle of the night. the adorning look you would give him would make him write paragraphs with such ease, leaving a shade of blotched blue all over his palm. then your contagious laughter and assuring gaze made a mountain of neatly crafted love letters in the corner of his usual tidy room. along the ink read his first impressions of you, the beautiful details that you missed about yourself, lengths of innocent admiration, and millions of confessions about how much he loves you. each letter had little surprises tucked between the pages. a frail cherry blossom petal when you both first trained together. colored origami animals that you spotted during missions. he kept them all as a sign of his love — dedication towards you. watching you carefully unfold himself with gentle hands, he safely locks the image of your big grin and droplets of joyful tears in his memory for another love letter.

the glimmering of delicate light reflected over the bare walls, adding a pretty iridescence on the wallpaper. clashes of soft yellow, with pastel greens and pinks made your skin twinkle under the sun. the silhouette of a dainty butterfly floated through the air. tomas has gifted you a sun catcher. the warm village of fengjian had pockets of small businesses. crowded bookstores, fragile porcelain shops, and fresh produce stands. he didn’t have any personal feelings towards these stores, rather he wanted something more personal — made with his own hands and heart. that’s when he finds a workshop filled with dozens of personal projects, unfinished ceramics and even glass bracelets. then he eyes a mesmerizing piece, a sun catcher. it reminded him how you seem to unintentionally fill every room you’re in with light, how you always impressively shined through the bitter ash of his magic — winning every spar between the two of you. the process of making a sun catcher was meticulous, melting down metal small rods together, inserting colored glass with clear precision but with very nervous hands. tomas finishes off the butterfly piece with a string of patterned beads that he collected when you both visited different villages. a crescent moon dangling at the end to represent him — your opposite, your midnight protector. there’s instant relief when you beamed ever so brightly at your handcrafted gift. he helped you hang it by your window, the glimmer of reflection blinding the both of you for a second. then he sits with you, explaining the meaning of each individual bead and glass — while your smile brightens the whole room.

add. note : the alt title would’ve been ‘if he wanted to he would’, but i’ll refrain from men slander for now (`ー´) …

[f1smutwriter]

Hello I saw you write for pierre could you write one where they had a fight and fem reader is giving him the silent treatment

After going out with charles and alex, pierre finds out some hot tea he comes into the bedroom asks to pause their fight si he can share the tea which is something they always do together without fail.

Maybe gossiping is how they met like idk they sat at bar together and he overheard her gossip on her phone about her date. So he listened in lol

I saw a picture of Charles showing pierre something on his phone and it looked like juicy drama.

Feel free to make up the gossip or use actual f1 gossip I'm just getting into it so I don't know a lot of lore.

Thank you xo

|𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐞𝐚 (𝐩𝐠𝟏𝟎)

|𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Summary: they get into an agreement but the tea is too good not to tell.

Warnings: nothing, a bit of cussing that’s pretty much it

Notes: I loved writing this and I’m so sorry for not posting I’ve been trying to keep up with the writing from these and my books so I’m sorry. Girl I hope you enjoy!

——————————————————————————————————————————————————

“Really the silent treatment, it was one word it didn’t mean anything” Pierre tried to tell me but I didn’t give him any of it. He just shakes his head before saying the word that made this whole argument. “I called you dramatic because you said I didn’t love you because I forgot your chocolate, which is extremely dramatic” He told me making my jaw drop as he called me dramatic again. I just roll my eyes and flip him off going to the kitchen.

“Oh come on mon ange you’re really mad at me” he says following me to the kitchen. I don’t say anything to him I just go to the fridge and take out some pineapple to cut for myself. “Baby please I need you to not ignore me I hate when you ignore me” he told me making me roll my eyes from his begging voice.

“Fine I’ll just ignore you then” he grumbled going to his game room to join the simulator with his friends. A few hours later he comes in the room and hopes in the shower. He comes out in his towel and his gold chain around his neck making me just stare at him in awe but quickly look away when he looks at me.

“I’m going out with Charles and Alex for a bit I made you dinner already so don’t worry about starving to death” He shouted from the closet when he was changing. I just sigh hating being alone in the house but I continued to go on my phone (secretly watching edits of him). He comes out in baggy light washed jeans, a green hoodie and a jacket to layer it with his chain and his ring that I gifted him. I basically drool over him but I try to ignore him.

He blow dries his hair making it the perfect amount of fluffy, once’s he’s finished getting ready he comes to me and grabs my jaw softly kissing me making me kiss back like a first instinct.

We kiss for a couple of minutes before he lets go and kisses forehead softly before whispering. “I’ll see you in a bit mon ange. Je t’aime” he whispered to me before giving my neck a peck before leaving the room. I just sit in my room waiting for him to come home already missing him even though he just left.

Charles, Alex, and Pierre are all playing poker with some other friends they grew up with. “Dude did you hear the shit that was happening” Charles asked Pierre who was looking at his cards. “No what shit” He asked fixing his cards so he didn’t lose.

“So something happened with Max and Nando and I think their like arguing for a redbull seat, but redbull is obviously gonna stick with Max and Nando is pissed so he’s like talking a lot of shit about max” Charles said while putting his chips in the middle. “And want is max saying” Pierre asked now just listening to the story.

"He's pissed calling Nando immature, and how he's taking it out of proportion" Charles says while taking a swig of his drink. "That's fucking crazy man" Pierre chuckled while placing down his cars showing the boys he won another round. "Fucking hell man how do you always win" Alex says throwing his card on the table.

"You just suck at poker mate" Pierre laughed while taking all the chips. "Well mates I got to go lily wants me home for dinner and I don't want to be broke" Alex chuckled while packing up his things. "Yeah I got to go to Y/n me hope at a certain so l got to go" Pierre said before taking one more sip of his drink before grabbing his keys and going to the car.

Once he gets home he speed walks to the room seeing me on my phone watching some videos. "Baby" he says softly to me making me roll my eyes. "I know you're mad at me, but I have drama that needs to be told” Pierre said dramatically sitting on the edge of the bed. "So pause the fight because it is too good" Pierre says making me smile before wanting to hear.

“So apparently the girls are fighting, Max and Fernando are arguing about a redbull seat, and obvi redbull is gonna stick to their starboy so Nando got pissed and started talking nonsense about it. Saying how max doesn't deserve the seat and how it should be his, and max is like he's being ridiculous and immature" Pierre says spilling the tea to me without taking a single breath.

"No fucking way, I thought Nando was loving it at Aston Martin" I say confused on the whole topic. "Apparently not because he's not getting as much attention as Lance is because he's a ne-" I cut him off before he finished the sentence. "Be respectful" I warned him with the look that makes him be nice

"Sorry Mon ange, but yeah that's why the girls are fighting over a stupid seat" Pierre laughed which makes me laugh. "Please tell me you're not mad anymore" he asked me with his puppy dog eyes and pout. "No baby I'm not mad anymore" I say lovingly while running my fingers through his hair. "Since when did we start spilling tea to each other because now it's just normal" | asked while feeling his hair through my finger tips.

“The first day we met, heard you talking about that dick head that stood you up so I got the courage and talked to you” he says softly to me while his head is in my lap and he’s rubbing thigh. “You were listening” I laughed while scratching his scalp a bit just like he liked it. “When I heard ‘you’ll never guess what happened I was all ears” he laughed against me making me laugh with him.

—————————————————————————

3 years ago

“Dude you’ll never guess what happened” was the one word that Pierre heard to make him start listening to my conversation without me knowing. The asshole stood me up said he was with another girl who’s ten times prettier” I said absolutely pissed while talking to my friend.

Pierre just takes a sip of his drink shocked that a guy can say that to someone as gorgeous as you. “I bet you his dick was tiny” I say making fun of the guy making Pierre almost snort out in laughter.

After the call ended I feel a tap on my shoulder. When I turned around to see who it was I see then most handsome guy I’ve seen. “Hi I’m sorry to bother you but I just wanted to say that you’re beautiful” Pierre said making me smile softly and feeling my cheeks get hot.

“That you so are you” I stuttered, “I-i mean handsome you’re very handsome” I stuttered pretty bad making him smile softly at me seeing his pearly white teeth. “I’m sorry I’m never really like this” I tell him trying to save myself from embarrassment. “No it’s okay I think it’s pretty cute” he told me making me blush ten times more almost looking like a tomato.

“May I have your name” he asked me softly his French accent making it so much better when he talks. “Hailey my names Hailey” I say softly still blushing for the life of me. “My names Pierre nice to meet your Hailey” He smiled softly now it being my favorite thing he does even though we just met.

“Can I take you out sometime” he asked me making me look happy. “Yeah heres my number” I say giving him mmhmm number on a napkin. “Are you free right now” he asked me feeling surprised that he asked. “Yeah I am actually why” I asked confused on the question.

“Can I take you out right now” he wondered making me blush more and more probably looking ruby red. “I would love to” i mumbled feeling embarrassed from the blush on my face. “Let’s go I have a place in mind” He says softly holding my hand to take me outside.

“Is this the part where you kidnap me” I joked softly while taking his hand. “I don’t know do you want to get kidnapped by me” he chuckled making me giggle with him. “Maybe but seriously where are we going” I asked softly letting him lead the way to this random place.

“Welcome to the pretty pond that I found” he says softly showing me the pond that was glowing from the moonlight. I see fireflies everywhere admire the beautiful view. “You have no idea how much I need this, thank you” I say hugging him making him wrap his arms around my waist hugging me back. “Of course Mon ange” he whispered softly and smoothly in my ear.

“What does that mean” I asked him about the sudden nick name. “You’ll find out soon” smiled softly brushing my messy hair behind my ear making me blush more.

—————————————————————————

Present

“I remember that day, I love it so much” I said softly scratching his head as he kissed my thighs a bit. “Talking to you was the best decision of my life. I don’t regret one thing about it” he mumbled against my thigh making me giggle. “Even when I’m being dramatic about chocolate” I said making him chuckle softly. “Even then I will never regret talking to you baby I love you” he said softly to me before leaning up to his me.

“I love you too baby” I say kissing him back softly making him grab my neck like he always did. He squeezed my neck still kissing me with such love and care like I was fragile and he was scared to break me. “Gosh Mon ange you’re so precious, it’s truly captivating” he whispered before going back to kiss me making me whimper softly. “Let’s go eat some dinner” he says before giving my neck one last squeeze.

He goes to the pantry and sees a familiar bag in the corner. “Mon ange” he called out making me hum. “What did you say you wanted from the store” he asked softly making me look confused. “Chocolate why” I asked while placing the plates on the island. “There’s chocolates right here” he said back with a funny look making me look at him with a guilty face.

… “Oops”

——————————————————————————————————————————————————

Notes: tell me why I’m trying my hardest to get these 5 post out. Yes you read right FIVE. Anyways if you requested something don’t worry it’s coming out soon. And yes more smut is coming out real soon. Let’s just say it’s another threesome. Hope you enjoy!

[rainybyday]

Flower shop au continues 

Gotham, usurpingly, had a lot of crime. Already he can hear an explosion down a couple blocks away and tripped a pocket picker from trying to rob him. It was sort of nostalgic to hear the chaos of destruction again and had to restrain himself from trying to transform and see who is causing such chaos. 

He reassured himself that once he manages to set shop, a peace can come. 

It didn't take long for him gain a property near the Gotham graveyard, an old, abandoned thing that no one used. Walls still intact but wallpaper pilling off with creaking stairs and holes in the floorboard. Furniture in pieces and a smell of decay wafted all over the building. 

The graveyard was even worse with rusty metal fences and broken-down gravestones with dried up weeds and dying willow trees. Only a few of the hundreds of graves were well kept and clean 

For a place that has such a high death rate, they really never took great care of their deceased. 

But Danny sighed and got to work. 

In a week he managed to clean his two-story shop with the help of his ghost abilities. He managed to work through a couple of nights to not only replace all of the flooring and walls, but he managed to repaint and clean the whole first floor. He decided that the second room should be an actual green garden room and replaced the roof and wall with screens. There were rows of beds filled with soil, growing vines wrapped by his hands on wooden pillars and many pots of baby seedlings yet to uncover themselves from the blanket of rich soil they are buried in. 

It took two months to finally finish his new shop and another few weeks before the scent of flora wafted through the building. The store front wasn’t bright, dark tones of green and gray that seemed to fit the Gotham esthetic were painted on instead. The inside, however, was filled with shelves of flowers and vines crawling the walls and bean bags and chairs that were scatted all over. There was writing on the walls of names of people with markers near them. Then in the back there sat a counter with bags of dried flowers and scented candle sticks. If you look to your right, you can see the open stair way that will lead you to a jungle of greenery and peace. 

Danny’s store was complete, and he was happy with it. 

The first few weeks not many people came, in fact, no one came but that didn’t bother him. Instead, he filled his day with a schedule of sorts. In the morning he would clean and care for his plants around the store before weeding and picking flower petals to create dry flowers for teas. He would spend his late afternoons expanding his garden outside his shop for more flowers to grow before closing shop once the sun sets. It was at night did he grabbed on a hoodie and as many flowers he can carry and walk towards the graveyard leaving tokens for the dead. 

Danny can tell that the dead, that Gotham, was suspicious of his attention to give a token to each and every grave. In fact, he can feel the creeping sensation of fear trying to use intimidation on him to get out plenty of times from the aura of death that surrounded the graveyard. But it felt like mere child play for him, and he kept coming back to leave tokens of flowers to those who pass. 

By the time he met someone on his daily rounds towards the graveyard, the sensation of death and fear lessened, and the suspicion turned to a curious cautious feeling instead. He wasn’t welcome, not yet, but he was no longer pushed away. He didn’t think he was at the point of being allowed to meet one of Gotham's people, but he didn’t show his surprised when a man in a suit was watching him place flowers from the well-kept grave he was standing next to. Danny gave him a single glance before looking away and continuing his work elsewhere. He learned from experience not everyone wants someone around them when they are visiting their loved ones, so Dany respected the man by giving him space. 

It was when Danny was walking back to that again place, he first spotted a bundle of flowers near the grave the man once stood. When he got there, he breathes in deeply at the choice of flowers before place one of his own and walking away. 

(Louts flowers, Lewisia's, and Hyacinths.)

(Resurrection, new beginnings and rebirth, regret and sorrow)

(Maybe that's why the grave felt so empty, he thought distantly.)

Surprisingly, the next day, he saw the same man again out in front of his shop. Danny invited him in and ask what he would like. 

And the man only said he was visiting his son. 

So, Danny gathered a bundle of Primroses, Crocuses, Hyacinths, Forget-me-nots, and Buttercups.

(Primroses for youth and new life. Crocuses for children. Hyacinths for playfulness and energy. Buttercups for childness and youthful joy. Forget-me-nots for remembrance.)

The man walked off and Danny enjoyed the sensation of having a new customer. 

Slowly more people came, mothers and fathers and grandparents and siblings and families and lovers. Slowly they all came in his shop and were blanketed by the scent of flowers. Most would ask for a bundle of flowers before leaving for the graveyard, but a few would come back and stay in the shop and take in the peace of it all. He would usually offer them tea (which no one has yet to refuse after taking their first sip) and leave them to thoughtlessly wonder through his store. Once a customer asked why he had names written on the walls which he replied they are the names of people that passed away and their loved ones left behind a message for them on his walls. 

(It wasn’t a lie since Danny did have a message for each of his ghost friends he left behind at Amity and the Ghost Zone.)

The customer asked if they could leave a message as well and Danny replied by handing them a marker. It soon became a trend that spread throughout all his customers who would now ask for a marker first instead of him taking their order. 

Slowly, Danny was fitting in with the eyes of Gotham no longer cautious but inviting, even soothing in a way. And slowly, so ever so slowly, if you listen just right you can hear that the screaming of the city became just a tab bit silent. 

Danny was, ever so slowly, bring peace to Gotham’s land. Not a lot, mind you, but enough to know that one day the land can breathe again. 

Then one night, when he was just about to close shop, the bell of his shop’s door rang as some opened the door late at night. 

Another continuation later one: Pt3

[carpe-aurore]

On rose bushes

Back when I was a kid, when we lived with my monster of a stepfather, we had a rose bush in front of our house. I remember I loved that thing, since it was the only plant that would grow in our home. Anything I tried to put in the ground died almost immediately. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, ever grew in there. But this beautiful, huge red rose bush did. It thrived, even. I took care of it everyday, watered it, trimmed it. And every spring, it grew the most gorgeous and fragrant red roses. The petals would cover the whole front yard. You could smell the fragrance halfway down the street. My stepfather hated it, since he would always get scratched by a stray branch when he walked through the front door. We joked that the rose bush only hated him, cause it never happened to anyone else. Years later, after having enough of all the abuse, we moved out. That week was the week that the rose bush was about to bloom again for the spring. We came back at the end of the week to get the rest of our things and found the rose bush halfway dried and dead. It had not been tampered with, as far as we could tell. Nothing has been poured on it, or sprayed. It seemed to have just shriveled up in just a matter of days.

We moved in with my grandmother while we got back on our feet. She's always had a green thumb, and had the most beautiful garden in her backyard. She had a tiny, scraggly rose bush next to the window of my room, and told me that she had no idea what the color of the flowers were since it had never bloomed once in all the years she had lived in that house. But she told me I could try to take care of it if I wanted, and so I did. I watered it, trimmed it, and watched it slowly grow. The next spring she shouts at me from the backyard, excited as she's ever been, telling me to come look. Tiny buds are growing all over it. They bloomed into gorgeous little red roses. We both were so excited at seeing such tiny flowers. A couple of years after we moved out of her house, she tells me it never bloomed again after we left.

While we were still living with my grandmother, a friend from church approaches us and tells us she and her husband are renovating a house to put up for rent. They invite us to come take a look so we can see if we would like to live there. As she's giving us a tour, she tells me there is a rose bush out in the backyard that the previous owners had planted. She says it's very likely to die, since the weather has been hot and it had begun to shrivel up. But she knows I love roses, and tells me I'm more than welcome to try and revive it when we move in. We pack up our things from Grandma's and with the help of many friends and family, arrive at our new home. She tells me she'll be back at the end of the month to cut down the rose bush if it's dead. For the next month, waking up early each morning surrounded by halfway unpacked boxes, I get up to water the rose bush. I trim away at the dead foliage, and feel how much I have sacrificed to get there. I wipe my tears with hands that smell of cut leaves. I still remember the shock on her face when she arrived, garden shears in hand, to see a rose bush full of new green growth and tiny rosebuds. It bloomed into beautiful, bright red roses. We have lived here for about 7 years, and this rose bush has tripled in size since then. I water it, I trim it. I harvest the blooms each spring to place them in vases around the house, to gift to friends. I make rose jam out of the petals. I make rose tea to drink. Petals cover our whole backyard every time it blooms. The little girl that trimmed the rose bush has grown up, but the petals smell as sweet as always. And she's there as a woman now, harvesting the life she couldn't have before. She places a petal in her mouth and she thinks the roses taste especially sweet this year.

[biscuitdolly]

skincare recommendations ♡

note: i have very dry skin and don't suffer from acne or oily skin. these products worked for me, but may not work for everyone!

avocado nourishing hydration mask by kiehl's ୨୧

this stuff literally changed my life!! my skin was literally so smooth and texture-less after using it??? originally i had gotten this as a freebe in a small test bottle, i was a little grossed out at the texture of it at first (as i had never used a face mask before), but i'm so glad i used it!! 10/10 would recommend!!

beauty of joseon products ୨୧

out of all their products, i would personally recommend:

♡ ginseng essense water

almost acts as a toner but without a lot of the harsher acids. fun fact, Hwang Jini, known as 'the most beautiful woman in the Joseon Dynasty', used ginseng root water whilst bathing! ginseng is a herb that has long been used in Korea as a natural way to supply moisture to the skin. this product helped even out my skin tone so much!

♡ green plum refreshing cleanser

my favourite cleanser everr!! doesn't leave my skin dry after , i swear my skin looked so dewy after using it!! has an almost minty fresh feel to it! i was a little worried about using it at first, as it has a slightly acidic formula , but i'm so glad i tried it!!

♡ red bean refreshing pore mask

cleaned out the excess sebum i had on my chin! it doesn't dry fully so it didn't strip the moisture from my skin either, my face looked so much brighter after i used it !

Korean skincare  🔛 🔝 !!

innisfree products ୨୧

now, i feel some of innisfree's products are a tad bit overrated , BUT i still love thier products none the less! their face masks are super cheap and affordable , i love the dewy rose one. their green tea range is super good too! i LOVE their lip products as well.

i haven't tried their cherry blossom range , and while it is super pretty, a lot of people have been saying that it either dried their skin out or broke them out, so maybe avoid that just in case. (if anyone has purchased it i would love to hear what you think in the comments!) remember, just because the packaging is pretty doesn't mean it's good !!

rose water ୨୧

u can make this at home or buy it , (let me know if you want a recipe for homemade rose water!) i have one by natio and it leaves my skin super soft and hydrated! (i love natio entire rosewater collection, i would def recommend checking it out!!)

face sunscreen by mecca cosmetica ୨୧

approved by the cancer council aus !! never gotten sun burnt when i use it, and it doesn't feel greasy at all, nor dry out my skin !

[xnoctifers-eveningx]

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼 Wild Plant Lore 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼

Some notes from my BOS of weeds / local plants that can be used in one's craft. Includes magickal correspondences, traditional uses (medicinal and culinary), and some of their folklore.

Disclaimer at the end !!

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Acorns- the nuts of oak trees. They're made of one seed covered by a tough shell with a cap on top. These nuts can be eaten and are turned into flour to make breads and pastas. Much about acorns are unknown as they are mainly unused in everyday life, but we do know that they contain a high fiber content which has been used to treat bloating, diarrhea, stomach pains, and other digestive issues. Because these nuts come from oak trees they’ve been a symbol of great wisdom and longevity in many cultures such as Celtic and Nordic. Many people have worn necklaces with acorn charms on them to bring protection

• Protection, prosperity, growth, wisdom 

Bull nettle- Thick stock and toothed leaves with stiff prickly stinging hairs, the flowers are small, white, and covered in hispid. The seed pods are lightly coloured and cylindrical, containing ~3 seeds. Touching this plant will cause a stinging, burning, or itching sensation that will last for hours. The seeds from the seed pods are edible and taste nutty but need to be harvested with extreme care as to not sting yourself. The seeds can be roasted or ground into a "cornmeal." The root of bull nettle is edible, it's similar to a potato but tougher and the core is so tough it should be discarded.

Binding, banishing, warding, baneful (to cause pain)

Cattails- Cattails are semi-aquatic plants that consist of multiple long spiked leaves with one center spike holding a sausage-shaped head that is filled with cottony seeds. Their rhizomes can be turned into a flour with a high protein content and the shoots can be cooked and eaten. The stems and leaves can be turned into paper. A poultice from the roots can be used as an antiseptic, for burns/cuts, and to reduce inflammation. When harvesting this plant please do not overharvest, it’s a very important part of a wetland’s ecosystem ! Also, always make sure the water near the cattails is clean because cattails filter pollutants out of the water so if you plan on consuming the plant, you could also be consuming those pollutants. 

Fertility, growth, prosperity, peace, water-associated magick, cleansing

Catchweed- Also known as cleavers, hitchhikers, goosegrass, or sticky weed. Catchweeds are branchy, square stems that latch onto other plants and buildings with small hooked hairs on their leaves and stems. They have tiny, star-shaped, green or white-ish flowers with four petals. They also have small burrs that contain a few seeds that are covered in hooked hairs so they can latch on to animals to disperse seeds. For those who want to risk getting pricked, catchweed is edible. Young leaves and stems can be cooked and eaten like spinach. This plant is also in the same family as coffee, meaning that you can dry and roast the seeds in their burrs to make a lower-caffeine coffee substitute and teas. Poultices have been made with the whole plant, as with tea washes from dried leaves, in many cultures for light burns, small wounds, and eczema. It has a cooling effect so it’s also used in infusions for bug bites, stings, and poison ivy. 

Energy, binding, commitment, protection during travel 

Chickweed- Also called chickenwort/weed, winterweed, and simply ground cover as that’s its primary use in modern society. Long stems with pointed, oval-shaped leaves and tiny white star-shaped flowers that resemble carnations. Its star-shaped flowers earned it the botanical name “Stellaria media”. Its flowers and leaves are both edible and are very popular in salads, soups, and stir-fries. It has a taste similar to sprouts that you’d use in a salad. Chickweed salves are used for skincare, poultices for poison ivy, and teas for digestion. Historically, it's been used for skin ailments like itching, dry skin, and even bruises or bug bites from a tisane/tea of the stems applied to the affected area. In European folklore, it was said to help promote a happy, balanced family and love life. This is believed to come from how chickweed grows so closely with all its stems intertwined but in a way that promotes each part to grow healthy, so it promotes everyone in a household getting along with one another while having their own sense of individuality. It’s also associated with perseverance (like most weeds I’ll admit), this is because chickweed is seen growing everywhere, in yards, in forests, on piles of dirt. If it sees an opportunity, it’ll take it and thrive year-round. 

Love, stability, loyalty, communication, lunar-associated magick 

Clovers- white, balled flowers with three to four small, round leaves. Every part of this plant is edible, the leaves and flowers are sweet and vanilla-y so they are good in teas and sweets. Clover has been used to ward off fevers and used in tisanes/teas for inflammation. Clover has been associated with good fortune for centuries, especially four-leaved clovers. A shamrock is a symbol of a three-leafed clover representative of the Christian Holy Trinity, it’s also believed that the Celtic druids thought shamrocks to be significant because they had three leaves possibly representing the underground, earth, and sky. 

Luck, prosperity, happiness, faith

Creeping Speedwell- Teeny tiny violet/baby blue flowers with light yellow middles, it is incredibly fast-growing and can be found in most yards. Speedwell is edible and good in salads, pestos, and smoothies. Tea is made from the leaves and flowers to help clear congestion, allergies, and coughs. Some add it to their baths to help with their allergies and inflammation, inflammation is also helped by a poultice. In some folklore, it’s said that a tea or ointment from speedwell could help one with psychic visions and faerie sight. Before I truly knew the folklore behind speedwell I had this sense that it would help with your clairsenses. 

Abundance, divination, psychic/clairsense work

Creeping buttercup- Buttercups are toxic and will leave blisters when raw so they must be cooked or dried before being consumed, even then it's not recommended to eat. A poultice of the (boiled) leaves is used for inflammation and wounds and a tea from the plant is used for its analgesic properties, but be wary of the blisters that may occur. Buttercups used to be used to ward off faeries, many farmers would plant these around their cows to prevent them from being stolen from the fae. There are a lot of stories relating buttercups to cows which is very very cute but ironic because buttercups are actually toxic to many animals! For its many associations with children, fairies, and coyotes across various cultures it can also be related to mischief  

Youth, happiness, love, protection from fae, mischief (jinxes/hexes/glamours) 

Creeping charlie- Also known as ground ivy. Creeping charlie has square stems with dark, rounded or fan-shaped, toothed leaves. It has small blue or lavender, funnel-shaped flowers that grow in clusters of two or three in the spring. Creeping charlie is edible and has a long history of being used in beer and cheese, it tastes subtly minty as it's in the mint family. Young leaves are good in salads to freshen them up and it's also really good in teas and sweets. There is a risk of it being toxic if consumed in large quantities though. For centuries now it's been used in teas to calm a cough, been said to help with headaches, and has been used on the skin to reduce pain and soothe inflammation. Some have turned it into a snuff and used it for congestion, kind of like Vaporub. It was actually brought over from Britain to the Americas for its medicinal uses, now it’s one of those weeds people will spend tons of money trying to get rid of. Alike creeping buttercup, it’s said that some may have used this to ward magick from their livestock and themselves. Some say it’s good to use to find out who has cursed you or sent the evil eye your way and in some stories, people would drink it as a tea to get rid of their shyness. 

Protection from magick and spirits, divination, clarity, courage

Deadnettle- My favourite weed :) Square stem, fuzzy leaves that occasionally are red/purple at the top, with tiny tube-shaped light pink flowers. Despite technically being a nettle, it’s not a true nettle so very few people will have a reaction when touching this plant. Deadnettle is part of the mint family and every part of it is edible, despite that though it's not very minty and is floral and sweet. My favourite parts are the tiny pink flowers which have sweet nectar in them and are good in teas, syrups, sweets, and jams. The leaves are good in teas, smoothies, pestos, and salads. A poultice or salve can be made from the leaves for wounds and teas can help with allergies. This plant is sometimes called purple archangel because it pops up around the Feast of the Apparition when it was said St. Micheal appeared. It’s associated with determination because this lil dude will grow anywhere, even in spots with the worst quality soil. 

happiness, determination, peace, healing

Dandelion- Dandelions are bright layered yellow flowers with toothed leaves that grow pretty much anywhere there is enough dirt to get their roots in. The entire plant is edible, the flowers are slightly sweet making them good for salads, syrups, and sweet. The leaves are slightly bitter but that can be lessened when harvested young or boiled, they're good as spinach replacements and can be dried for teas. The flowers can also be turned into dyes. The plant's name can be literally translated to 'healing herb' as it has been used in many cultures for it's gut health and detoxifying properties. Teas and tinctures from leaves are made for a diuretic and flowers are made into salves or beauty products to treat acne/eczema and to reduce inflammation. About dandelions being diuretics - the name dandelion comes from the french name dentdelion (tooth of the lion) but there’s actually a second French name, “pissenlit”, which means piss the bed !!

luck/wishes, communication, balance, courage, youth

Daisy- Daisies are low-growing flowers with thin, long, white petals and yellow disc florets (middles). Common daisies are edible, these are really found growing anywhere even in your lawn. Leaves can be used in salads or stir-fries and flower heads can be pickled or used in salads. Wines, soups, and teas are also commonly made from daisies. The flowers have a slightly bitter taste but look pretty in dishes. Daisies have been used in teas for coughs, bronchitis, and common colds. It's also been used to "stimulate the digestive system" to promote appetite. Daisies have been into lotions and other skincare products to treat rashes, eczema, and other skin issues. Daisies came to be associated with love and motherhood through it being the flower of Freya, innocence/purity through the story of Vertumnus and Belides where the flower gets its scientific name, and purity the popular phrases like “fresh/clean as daisies”.

Happiness, cleansing, love, purity (cleansing), motherhood/childbirth

Feverfew- Feverfew are daisy-like flowers with bright yellow middles and white petals, with yellow-green leaves in a feathered arrangement, that grow in small bushes together. Feverfew is edible but many will steer clear of it as it has a very bitter taste. It’s often made into teas and used in pastries. Although feverfew isn’t used to reduce fevers anymore, there are still many health benefits and medicinal uses of the plant, some people even calling it ‘medieval aspirin’. People will take feverfew pills or apply a poultice to relieve pain from arthritis and inflammation. A poultice can also be applied to minor cuts, scrapes, and bug bites. Teas can be made for headaches and some use it to help with menstrual pain. Feverfew is also known to show some skin benefits by reducing redness and inflammation. Feverfew may increase bleeding as it acts similar to an anticoagulant, because of this it is advised that if you are taking a blood thinner like aspirin, Dabigatran (Pradaxa), Heparin (Innohep), or others, you talk to your doctor before taking feverfew. This plant has more medicinal uses than references in mythology but I did find a few references to it being believed to be able to save the life of someone that had fallen from the Parthenon, a temple to Athena, which gave it the scientific name parthenium.

Healing, curse-breaking, love

Lesser celandine- Also known as pilewort or sometimes fig buttercup. Pilewort is a plant on the buttercup family that has dark, heart-shaped leaves and bright yellow flowers with glossy petals. Despite its pretty exterior, touching the plant could cause rashes or blistering especially when the plant is crushed. Ingesting the plant can cause dizziness, vomiting, and worse. While there may be ways to cook out the toxins, I cannot advise anyone to consume this plant without proper experience. This plant is also known as the spring messenger as it's one of the first plants to bloom in the spring. Lesser celandine was referenced a lot in literature, most being about love and foreshadowing happiness alike how it signals spring. 

Joy, love, Spring associated magick

Maple seed pods- Maple seeds, also known as helicopters or samaras, are the seed of maple trees, as one would assume. These are winged pods consisting of a papery tissue surrounding a single seed that is usually joined together in pairs of two. The seeds are edible once the outer covering has been removed and taste better while young, becoming bitter as they mature. Some say that smaller pods taste sweeter and larger ones taste more bitter. They're good in roasts, stir-fries, and salads. They can also be dried and pounded into flour ! Much of what we know about maple seeds are simply culinary and there's not much information on their medicinal uses. The majority of the correspondences of maple seed pods come from maple trees which represent balance and longevity. They also are associated with childhood after the many many years of children playing with these helicopter-like seeds. 

Longevity, growth, balance, youth

Mulberries- Mulberries come in three different colours which are red, white, and black. Different mulberries grow on different mulberry trees. Black mulberry trees have an orange-y-toned bark with toothed, heart-shaped leaves. White/red mulberry trees have a greyish bark with large, deeply lobed, oval-shaped leaves. Mulberries look very similar to blackberries but longer with each cluster of fruit containing a seed. Mulberries are edible, black ones taste the best and can be both sour and sweet and the white/red ones are duller in flavour but sweet. These are made into jams, syrups, wines, sweets, sorbets, really anything sweet and it tastes great ! These berries are more known for their culinary uses but some studies suggest that they can help reduce cholesterol and improve digestion. In Greek/Babylonian mythology, red mulberries came from white mulberries that were stained red from the deaths of the star-crossed lovers Pyramus and Thisbe which gave them the association of love and death.

Love, death, faith, wisdom

Osage oranges- Also known as horse apples or hedge apples. Osage oranges are a yellow-green fruit with a very rough and bumpy peel. These oranges grow on trees called Maclura pomifera. The wood of these trees are used for very good firewood and yellow-green dyes. The Osage natives would use the wood from the tree for many things like bows and boats as it’s very flexible. The roots of the trees are sometimes made into water infusions to help with eye conditions. People have also used the wood, or even sat out the fruit, to deter insects. Osage oranges are edible but most people, and even animals, will avoid eating them due to their dry and bitter taste. They taste like very bitter and citrus-y cucumbers. These oranges can cause skin irritation to some. 

Warding, protection, strength

Pinecones- Pinecones are geometric cones that come from conifer pine trees that produce pollen or seeds depending on their sex. Pinecones symbolize fertility and life in many cultures and have been used in artwork for centuries. The pineal gland in the brain was named after pinecones because of its shape, this gland is sometimes referred to as the “third eye” and some believe that it acts as a witch’s eye would; this is how pinecones were tied to the idea of enlightenment and rebirth as well as the fact that they have been around for so long. Some conifer cones are edible (some aren't!) but they are very tough to chew so you must boil them before eating, pinecone jam has been commonly made from young cones. Pine has been used in teas, tinctures, resins, and many other things to treat coughs, allergies, and help with sinus infections. 

Fertility, creativity, prosperity, enlightenment, rebirth

Prickly lettuce- a quite tall, red stem that contains latex with large tooth-shaped leaves that have prominent veins and spikes lining its edges and main vein on its underside. When it blooms it has small, pale yellow flowers. This plant is edible and is pretty much used like normal lettuce while having a slightly bitter taste, as usual, this gets less noticeable as it matures. Leaves can be eaten in salads or cooked/steamed and the root can be made into a tea. The latex substance that comes out of the leaves and stem when injured is called lactucarium which is known as lettuce opium due to its sedative and pain-relieving properties; the process of harvesting this substance is tedious. This can be used to help people sleep, relax, and relieve pain. Lettuce in general has a great amount of significant historical usage. Lettuce came to be associated with sex because an Egyptian fertility god, Min, was associated with lettuce as it was known as an aphrodisiac that was ritualistically ingested before sex. These effects were due to the lactucarium. In Hellenism, when Adonis died he was laid on a bed of lettuce along with other fast-growing plants. In festivals for him, they would burn withered lettuce and mourn his death, this related lettuce to death. 

Necromancy, offerings for the deceased, fertility, sex

Queen Anne's Lace- Also known as wild carrot. A tall flowering weed with a thin, stiff stem and tiny white, clustered flowers. The flowerhead consists of a bunch of separate flowers, some plants may have a singular purple/pink flower.  Queen Anne's lace's root is edible which is actually where it gets the names wild carrot and Daucus Carota, it's good steamed and boiled. It is pretty stringy and if you wait too long to harvest it can become very hard and woody. This plant is NOT safe to consume for those who are pregnant ! The stem is known to cause skin irritation and rashes to people with sensitive skin. Despite being edible, most wouldn't suggest eating it because it looks almost identical to poison hemlock which if consumed could be fatal. It also looks a ton like wild celery but that's less of an issue. Historically, the seeds of wild carrot were used as an abortant in a "morning after pill" type of way. Wild carrot was named Queen Anne's Lace after Queen Anne of England who was a great lace maker, there is a legend that when making lace one day she pricked her finger then a single drop of blood fell on it and that's why the flower has a single purple flower. Because of the association to Queen Anne, some would use it to try to attract love or make themselves look more beautiful. Wild carrot is also called bird's nest or the bishop's flower which ties it to themes of safety and sanctuary.

Beauty, love, glamours

Rosebay willowherb- Also commonly known as fireweed for its appearance or bombweed because it began to heavily grow in bomb craters/sites in WWII around the UK. The rosebay willowherb has tall reddish stems and willow-like leaves with long magenta flowers. Traditionally it's been used in teas, jellies, and salads. It has a pretty bitter taste so you need to harvest it young and cook it before eating. It's used in teas for its demulcent properties, to treat certain stomach conditions, and has been used in skincare because of its astringent properties. There’s not much folklore about this plant but it’s well known for appearing after events that devastated an area, it was one of the first plants to start growing after Mt. St. Helens, after colonizers burnt down forests, and after bombs dropped in WWII. I’ve also heard it’s bad luck to pick its flowers, either stating that a storm will occur or your mother will fall ill.

Courage, perseverance, change, bad luck

Stinging nettle- tall, heart-shaped, toothed leaves. The leaves are covered in small stinging hairs that when touched will inject chemicals into one's skin and cause slight stinging sensations. Young stinging nettle has widely been used in dishes as soaking/cooking it takes away the sting. It is very similar to spinach in taste, texture, and nutrients. Ointments are made to treat arthritis and inflammation, teas are made from dried leaves and flowers to treat allergies and hayfever. Poultices of the leaves were used for stiff joints and muscle pain by helping blood circulation in that area. Be wary of using stinging nettle on your skin as it can cause rashes and blisters. Some Native American groups used it in teas as a stomach tonic. In Celtic folklore, it was said to keep evil spirits and illness at bay, it also says that when you see thick strands of nettle it means that faeries are nearby. 

Binding, protection from baneful magick and evil spirits, strength, curse breaking

Sweetgum seed pods- Also known as witch’s burrs or witch balls. Sweetgum seed pods are hard, spikey seed pods with small holes where the seeds once were. These fall from sweetgum trees after they mature and disperse their seeds. These aren’t edible nor really used for any medicinal purpose. They’re often placed around plants to protect them from animals. Magickally, you can place them around your space to ward off unwanted energies and entities or even grind them into a powder for banishing or protection. These things hurt like hell to step on so they’re also good to use in baneful protection magick, like baneful wards or return to senders. 

Protection, warding, binding, baneful protection

Violet- There are many species of violets so I'm going to cover them in a broad sense. Violets are usually small, light purple flowers with short stems, little shrubbery, and heart/kidney/scalloped leaves. In many species of violet both the leaves and flowers are edible and contain high levels of vitamins A and C, but make sure to properly identify your plant before consuming. These can be made into teas, sweets, salads, etc. Violet syrup is my favourite ! Some leaves in wild violets will taste quite soapy, so try them out before cooking them into anything. Violet leaves have cooling and anti-inflammatory properties so they are used in poultices, salves, compresses, and oils for scrapes, burns, and bug bites. Violets have traditionally been used in teas or tonics for coughs and swollen lymph nodes. There is a lot of folklore and mythology that this flower is a part of. Violets are largely associated with modesty and innocence and this stems from two main stories; Persephone was said to be picking violets when Hades kidnapped her to live in the underworld and in Greek mythology when Apollo pursued a nymph, Artemis/Diana turned her into a violet to protect her. There are also stories in The Bible that associate violets with modesty like when Archangel Gabriel tells Mary she is pregnant, violets bloom around her. This is why sometimes when a child dies, violets are put on their grave as a representation of their innocence. There are many other popular stories of violets turning to tears when someone is crying. They’re also associated with love from a story of Venus and Cupid and were believed to be an aphrodisiac in the Middle Ages. 

Femininity, respect, wisdom, modesty, divination, love 

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Disclaimer !!: Before you consume or use a plant medicinally, make sure you are 100% sure on the ID. Speak with a doctor before using a plant, especially if you’re pregnant, and make sure you aren’t allergic and that it won’t interact with any of your medications. Do not substitute legitimate medications with herbal remedies, this is not medical advice. Always do your own research before consuming or using a plant medicinally. Some of the plants, while generally safe for humans, are not safe for animals and children. As a general rule of thumb, younger greens will taste better. As the plant matures and bears fruit it will typically become more bitter, so the best time to harvest most of these is before it bears fruit. Make sure to avoid areas treated with pesticides and always wash your takings before use. And make sure you're never over-harvesting, always make sure there's another 'patch' of the plant your taking !!

[theblasianwitch]

So I've been spending the last few monthes reading, watching, walking, and just overall researching foraging safely and the types of plants in my area. Today was the first day with my spouse and son that I was able to identify some plants confidently... so of course with my direction we began foraging.

It saddens me that one of the main motivators for foraging today is knowing that my neighbors and my mother in law would be getting their lawns mowed soon and most of what I gathered today would've been lost. People just don't know what they have.

We pay to remove plants, herbs and even fruits growing naturally in our lawns, only to go buy the same plants from our grocery stores.

Plants found:

Dandelion: the whole plant is edible if you can spot it from its copycat. The leaves can be used the same way as most greens, it's roots when dried can be used to brew Dandelion coffee, and the flowers can be used for tea and to make honey

Chives and Onions: a common herb and garnish its stalks grow back once cut. If left to grow long enough they absorb nutrients better and can produce bigger onions but for now these chives were found before being mowed over and the onions are quite small but very strong and flavorful

Dead nettle: this one was new to me learning about it near the end of winter and seeing the small purple flowers growing. The flowers and leaves droop downward almost making a closed umbrella shape. It can be eaten raw or cooked and is used in salads and smoothies for garnish and flavor. They are high in nutrients and vitamins. Left to grow in the sun the purple turns almost pinkish and the leaves get lighter but still useful

Pine (cones, needles and seeds): I didn't forage the cones or needles today cause I knew I'd be busy, but baby pinecones can be cooked and eaten and the needles when cleaned and placed into an airtight container with water and sugar make a soda. I managed to find a few seeds in some of the fallen cones and saved them to plants in our future home

That's what we foraged. We are waiting for some more plants to develop and managed to convince my mother in law to leave certain sections of the lawn left uncut as some plants are still just starting back. Plants were waiting on are plantains, honeysuckle, and violets. Some plants are still too early to identify.

Using the dandelion greens tonight and making a pesto with some of them combined with the dead nettle and onions to use for a future pasta.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Berthe the Green Witch

Summary: Traditional witches and green witches don't always see eye to eye. With a life on the line, Berthe is very persuasive.

The egg timer in the window over the sink ticks busily. Berthe watches it from the table, her hands wrapped around a mug of fresh basil tea. She made the mug a few months ago with clay she refined from the creek running through the backside of her property and the basil is from her garden. 

She sighs into her tea, eyes closing. The wind rattles her kitchen window, the oncoming storm announcing itself  by throwing the first dropped leaves of fall against her house. The air is sweet and spiced - apples in her creaking oven covered in sugar and cinnamon. 

She’s meant to answer letters today. They’re sitting on the other side of her crème table, the pile teetering. Notes asking for advice, missives from Councils she doesn’t remember joining, well wishes from former coven sisters who’ve gone on to build their own covens far away.

Her eyes open a moment before her besom - made from the twigs of her oldest apple tree - chatters against the wall and flings itself across the foyer.

“Oh,” she sighs, setting her mug aside, “there’s no reason to be so dramatic about it.”

The besom rolls over until it can tuck itself under her shoe bench.

Her doorbell chimes and, with a sigh, Berthe rises. She dislikes company on storm days, though she shouldn’t have expected any different. If Clayman visits her, he visits her on storm days. No exceptions.

Ring ring ring

Berthe falters, looking between the shadow behind her stained-glass door and the egg timer. Clayman hates being kept waiting, but her apples can be very delicate…

“One moment!” Berthe calls over her shoulder. She turns off the timer and bustles over to the oven. “I just need to pull something out of the oven!”

“Seriously?” Clayman’s voice is muffled by the door, but no less incredulous. “Berthe!” He knocks again.

Carefully, Berthe pulls the sheet pan from the oven. Red apples cut thin, laid in a spiral, with spices and sugar dusted over the top. A thin layer of puff pastry shows golden at the edges and she hums in pleasure. She loves when she gets the timing right.

Knock knock. “Berthe!”

She transfers the tart to her cooling rack and, after some consideration, moves her breadbox in front of it. Clayman’s gaze can be rather cold. She wouldn’t want all the warmth and care she’s put into her treat to go to waste.

Clayman is knocking constantly now, and muttering. Her wards don’t react so she knows it’s not a spell, but she frowns anyway. There he goes again. On someone else’s threshold no less!

She wipes her hands on her apron, dusting off  flour and cinnamon, and opens the door.

Clayman is a scarecrow. She doesn’t think so because he’s tall and thin, though he’s both. It’s not because of his straw-colored hair, neatly combed away from his face and held in place with rosemary oil. It’s not even because of his coat, a long duster-like affair done in softened leather. 

It’s because, as soon as she opens the door, the man is smiling. He is always smiling, his eyes mellow and shoulders loose, no matter his tone of voice. It’s as if the expression is painted on his face, forever fixed. She thinks that he’d cry smiling.

Unsettling.

“Berthe,” Clayman says. He takes off his wide-brimmed hat and holds it to his chest. “May I come in?”

“Be welcome in my home,” Berthe says, stepping aside to let him in. He has to duck a little to avoid the dried rosemary she has hanging over her doorway. A full head shoulder, Berthe doesn’t need to show such consideration. “I have coffee brewing.”

Clayman hangs his hat on the hooks above her shoe bench. He knows she doesn’t drink coffee. Smiling, he asks, “And you still couldn’t come to the door any faster?”

The cuckoo clock upstairs crows in protest. Berthe shrugs. “I suppose not.”

“Hm,” Clayman says and follows her into the kitchen.

He’s able to keep any further needling to himself as Berthe clears him a spot at the table. She sets her daisy coaster down - to lighten his mood - before she places a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. His mug isn’t handmade. SHe got it on sale at the grocery store. It says Bright and Early on one side. On the other it reads Unfortunately.

Clayman drinks so the Unfortunately is pointed at Berthe. “Thank you for the hospitality.”

“My pleasure,” Berthe says. And it is. Under normal circumstances. Despite his prickliness, Clayman is a friend to her even when he denies it. But these are not normal circumstances. “There hasn’t been any improvement?”

“No.” Clayman accepts the sugar Berthe slides to him. He always insists on taking one sip without any sweetness. Then he dumps nearly half of the sugar in the tin into it. “Ms. Rayne is dying.”

Berthe presses a hand over her heart as if to soothe the sting. The Rayne family may not favor her magic, but they have always been kind to her. “I am so sad to hear that, Clayman.”

Clayman smiles, like always. But his aura is distinctly sluggish and tinged a faint blue. Rachel Rayne is his student. “As am I.” He breathes in deeply. “I got permission to have you see her.”

“Oh,” Berthe says. Then, when it sinks in, “Oh.”

The Raynes are a traditional witch family, despite having not produced one in two hundred years. They proudly trace their roots back to 16th century Italy. All of their beliefs and teachings come from grimoires older than their name and alchemical texts that have to be translated by scholars to be read.

Clayman, a traditional witch, is the man they go to for spells. They tolerate Berthe’s practice so long as she keeps her actual workings to her house and her orchard.

“I’ll get my bag,” Berthe says, standing. She feels like her eyes are spinning. She never thought she’d be invited. There are poultices and salves to make, herbs and petals to collect, wands and crystals to choose. She dives for the drawer closest to her and pulls out her favorite wooden spoon. “Do they have pine incense? Should I bring some pine incense?”

“You’re going?” Clayman asks. When she turns, he’s not smiling. His mouth is dropped open in shock. “After what they’ve said about your practice, I expected to have to convince you.”

This is why she doesn’t like traditional witchcraft. So many grudges! So many perceived debts! She’s never called Clayman her friend to his face. She thinks he’d combust.

“Of course I am,” she says waspishly. She dumps her spoon and several jars onto the table in front of him. “Check these to see if they’ll clash with the Rayne estate’s wards, will you? I need to run upstairs.”

Clayman is smiling. “Are you asking me to cast magic in your house? I always knew you were crazy, I didn’t think you were stupid.”

Berthe dashes upstairs without answering him. He may think her stupid for her trust in him, but she knows he’lol follow her orders anyway.

“Ouch!” 

Berthe grins. Of course Clayman’s mug didn’t take kindly to his snide words. It has a tendency to heat up something awful whenever Berthe is insulted.

————.

The Rayne Family Estate is massive. Situated on top of the only hill in town, the driveway winds through wild oaks and pines for a good half of a mile before reaching the house. The house looms over the town like a castle, white walls and slate roof and black curtains over the windows.

The woman waiting on the front steps is like the house. Severe and colorless with gray hair pinned securely under a white handkerchief, black blouse tucked into a long, black skirt. Her weathered hands are folded neatly in front of her and her dark eyes track Clayman’s car as he pulls up and parks.

“Hello!” Berthe hops out of the car, waving with one hand. The other is full of the apple tart she’d grabbed at the last minute. “I brought a tart!”

“Berthe,” Clayman says out of the side of his mouth. “Shut up.”

“It’s apple,” Berthe says.

“Berthe Steighart,” Mrs. Rayne says through thin lips. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“Yes,” Berthe says. Mrs. Rayne makes no move to accept the apple tart. Berthe shoves it on Clayman and bustles around to get her bag out of the trunk. “I suppose you’d like to get straight to the point then? Clayman’s already checked my things. Is Ms. Rayne upstairs?”

“There are rules in this house,” Mrs. Rayne says as if Berthe hadn’t spoken. “We believe in the pure magics, those that come from study and self-reflection. There will be no calling on - on beings while within these four walls.”

Berthe throws her bag over her shoulder. It’s an old carpetbag she forgot she had and she sneezes when a plume of dust puffs off of it. It’d been the only bag big enough for her things. “Beings? You mean gods? Or other? I don’t have a patron god currently, so that won’t be a problem!”

“Currently?” Clayman asks.

“Never close off future possibilities,” Berthe says. She weaves past him and squints up at the house. “Is that Ms. Rayne peering out the window up there? Hello, Ms. Rayne!” The young girl with hair as black as a raven’s wing ducks back behind the curtain. Berthe frowns. “She looks very pale.”

She is dying, Clayman said. It looks like he wasn’t exaggerating.

“What I am about to tell you is a Rayne family secret,” Mrs. Rayne says. She turns on her heel and, lifting her skirt slightly, climbs the stairs to the house. “It must never leave the walls of this home without our permission.”

Berthe follows the older woman into the house. It’s as austere as its owner. The foyer is minimalist, a dully patterned carpet running the length of the hall to the grand staircase. There are paintings of ancient witches and confusing landscapes of places that can’t possibly exist on earth.

“I will not intentionally reveal your secrets,” Berthe says. Mrs. Rayne is moving quickly without looking behind her. Berthe huffs and focuses on keeping her heavy bag from dragging along the carpet. She eyes the main staircase with some trepidation, but says nothing. She already gave Clayman the tart. She can’t give him her bag too. “I swear.”

With a sigh, Clayman plucks her bag from her hands. “I vouch for her, Madame.”

Madame? Berthe has to work very hard not to laugh at that. It’s 2022 and he’s calling his employer madame.

“Rachel has magic,” Mrs. Rayne says. She stops in the middle of the stairs to glance at Berthe pointedly. “Significant magic.”

“Oh,” Berthe says. That’s it? She knew that much since Clayman is Rachel’s teacher. Clayman told her so himself - oh. He wasn’t supposed to tell her. Something warms in Berthe’s chest. Maybe Clayman does see her as a friend after all if he’s sharing secrets with her. “Congratulations, Madame.” She shoots Clayman a warm look.

Clayman hisses. When Mrs. Rayne isn’t looking, he darts up the stairs so he can whisper in her ear. “It’s not what you think.”

Berthe grins and winks.

Clayman’s eye twitches. “It’s not—“

“We are very proud of Rachel,” Mrs. Rayne continues.  She takes them down the right hall and past several busts of important looking ancestors. “Perhaps we were too zealous with her power. She’s been training since she was young in the ways of witchcraft.”

Berthe sobers. “How young?”

“I first became Rachel’s teacher when she was ten,” Clayman says. His voice is even more mild than usual when he says, “I am her third teacher.”

Ouch. Alchemists probably. Witches like Clayman at least know enough about magical cores to wait until they develop before testing them. Alchemists are always so barbaric about it.

Berthe can’t show her disapproval here. She hums. “She must be very accomplished then.”

“She is,” Mrs. Rayne says. There’s no pride in her voice. It’s a statement of fact. She stops in front of the door at the end of the hall, the one that overlooks the driveway. She looks down her nose at Berthe. “Or was. Two weeks ago, Rachel’s magic began to fail. Her core drained and never recovered. I am told that, when it empties completely, my daughter will die.”

Berthe looks at Clayman.

“I made the diagnosis,” Clayman says, smiling. His aura beats with guilt. “I have tried every healing spell I know, every restoration charm, every ward to catch her magic before it fades. Nothing has worked.”

“Several attempts slowed the progression,” Mrs. Rayne says. To Berthe’s surprise, she sounds like she’s consoling Clayman. She reaches around Berthe to pat him on the arm. “And we are thankful, Clayman. She’s been so happy since you became her teacher.”

Clayman nods stiffly. “I appreciate your words, Madame. And I am grateful you’re allowing me to bring in…unorthodox assistance.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Rayne says, eyeing Berthe’s apron and the flour that still stains it. “Well. Hardly any harm now, I think.”

She opens the door.

The smell of fading hits Berthe full force. Her eyes widen and she steps back into Clayman without meaning to, nearly knocking the apple tart from his hands. The room, like the rest of the house, is bare. A white carpet, black bookshelves, sheer white curtains around the bed and heavy black ones over the window.

The girl sitting in bed - Rachel Rayne - is too weak to sit up on her own. She leans back against a mountain of pillows. She has to be fourteen. Fifteen, maybe. Her gaunt cheeks make her look much, much older.

Rachel stares. 

Berthe regains her footing. Blindly, she reaches out to grab Clayman’s forearm, eyes never leaving Rachel’s. “The apple tart.”

“Yes, and I have your bag,” Clayman says. 

“Leave the bag,” Berthe says.

“What?”

But Berthe is already slipping past Mrs. Rayne and towards Rachel. “Oh, my dear. How tangled you are!” She keeps her voice as soft as the breeze through the orchard. “You must be having dreadful dreams.”

Rachel’s black eyes widen. She doesn’t protest when Berthe takes one of her thin hands in both of hers. “I am. How did you…?”

“You must tell me all about them,” Berthe says. “Clayman, cut the tart, would you? We can talk and eat.”

“With what?” Clayman asks from behind her. There’s a thud as he sets her bag down.

“There’s a knife in my bag.”

Clayman chokes. “You want me to cut a tart with your athame ?!”

“Traditional witches,” Berthe tells Rachel, rolling her eyes. “Always so formal.”

“You know what’s wrong with my daughter?” Mrs. Rayne demands. She comes up beside Berthe, looming with her hands a knot in front of her. “You can fix her?”

“I can untangle her,” Berthe corrects. She smiles at Rachel and pets the back of her hand. She doesn’t think she imagined Rachel’s flinch when her mother used the word fix. “Now, your dreams. I’m sure you can tell me one while Clayman struggles with a very basic task.”

“It’s a ritual dagger, how am I—“

But his words are interrupted by Rachel. 

Rachel’s eyes are glued to Berthe. Her voice is small and shaking and she speaks as if caught in a trance. “I dream I am underground. I am trapped there. I can hear Mom walking on the earth above me. She is calling for me. I try to call back, but there’s dirt in my mouth. I think I’m suffocating but it doesn’t hurt. But the more I try to call out, the colder I get. It’s a cold dream.”

Berthe feels the other two adults go still behind her. They’ve never heard about Rachel’s dreams. Why would they? Traditional witches like Clayman don’t divine in dreams. They have mirrors and flames and pools of water for that. She hums. “That must have been frightening.”

“Sometimes,” Rachel says, “I am in the sky. I think I must be a bird, but I don’t have any wings. I fly above the house and I can see it like a heart. When it beats, the streets in town glow an awful red.”

“Awful?” Berthe asks. She accepts the slice of tart from Clayman. The underside is crispy and still a little warm. She holds the tart to Rachel’s lips. “Try it! It has cinnamon.”

Rachel’s eyes are foggy. She’s still seeing her dreams and, like a doll, she follows Berthe’s command. When the taste of sugar and spice touches her tongue, she blinks. “That’s apple.”

“From my orchard,” Berthe says, chest swelling with pride. “It’s nice, yes? Seven apples from my seventh tree.”

Rachel’s gaze drifts from Berthe to the tart Clayman’s still cutting on her bedside table. She frowns. “There aren’t seven apples in that.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Berthe says. It’s technically made with three apples, both of which she picked seventh at some point or another. She’s not bothered by technicalities, though she can see why Rachel is. Imagine having Clayman as a teacher! Or, worse, an alchemist. “Now, tell me. Why is the red awful?”

“I don’t know,” Rachel says. She furrows her brow and chews another bite of tart. Warmth is coming back to her face already. “I guess because it’s alive.”

Berthe hums. “Why is being alive awful?”

“Because it’s a town. It’s not supposed to be alive.”

“Why?”

“It—it just shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?”

“Our town is laid out into a magical grid. Workings can’t be made with living things. So it can’t be alive.”

“Why not?”

“Because— because it just can’t!” Rachel cries. “That’s not how magic works. There is no spell that can twist something living and if the town is alive then how is it a magical grid? So it’s awful because it’s not true.”

“But it is true,” Berthe says. She can feel Mrs. Rayne ready to protest so she speaks quickly. “What is life? We do not say that a dead bird is alive, do we? It’s dead.”

Rachel stutters. “Necromancy is taboo—“

“I’m not talking about necromancy,” Berthe says. She squeezes Rachel’s hand. “Every living thing has a body. When it is no long living, it is a body. So what is the living part of it?”

“The soul, but that’s—“

“There is an inert part of all of us,” Berthe says. “We do not know it because we are alive. We claim our bodies and our souls so completely that they become one. The town, however, is not alive in the same way. It has a soul but does not claim its body the way we do. It can’t. It exists simultaneously as a soul and also inert. So why can’t there be magic on its body? It is alive and it has working on it at the same time. Why can’t both be true?”

The silence in the room is loud. Berthe takes the opportunity to eat some of her slice of tart. She got the amount of clove just right.

“What does this have to do with my daughter being sick?” Mrs. Rayne is the first to break the silence. “Dreams and life and bodies— what does this nonsense mean to Rachel?”

“It’s not nonsense,” Berthe says. She sighs and sits back on her heels, not relinquishing her hold on Rachel’s hand. The girl’s skin is only just starting to feel warmer. “It’s magic. A different sort of magic to Clayman. Or, rather, the same but through another perspective.”

“Please,” Clayman says when Mrs. Rayne goes to protest again. “Madame, I understand your opinions on Berthe’s practice. I even share some of them. But she is a witch that I respect regardless and I would like to give her the chance to explain.”

He respects me?, Berthe thinks. But it makes sense in a way. He wouldn’t have come to her if he didn’t.

Mrs. Rayne thinks for a long moment, staring at her daughter. Her lips thin and her dark eyes flash as color comes back to Rachel’s cheeks. Finally she says, “Then explain.”

“Rachel,” Berthe says, “is a green witch.”

“No,” Clayman says immediately, before Mrs. Rayne can do more than scowl. He stands abruptly, his hands fisting at her sides. “No, her core is structured traditionally. I checked when I first came on as her teacher—“

“She was trained by alchemists,” Berthe says simply. Mildly. She smiles at Rachel. “They’re a little rigid, aren’t they?”

Rigid is an understatement. Berthe can imagine the torment Rachel went through, trying to force her young magic to conform to archaic arrays and clumsy runes. Her growing power has been stifled and gnarled by the crucible her studies forced it into.

Berthe herself has never been fond of traditional spellwork. She finds the ritual chants and offerings uncomfortable with the way they bend her magic. And Rachel’s been going through that before her core even fully developed.

No longer, Berthe thinks. 

Rachel’s lip trembles. She darts a glance at her mom and then back to where Berthe’s hands are wrapped around hers. “Yes,” she whispers. “I—“

“There’s no such thing as green witchcraft,” Mrs. Rayne snaps. She looks like she wants to tear Berthe away from her daughter but, after a moment of hovering, paces away instead. She stalks from one side of the room to the other. “See, Clayman? This is why I didn’t want to call in this— this charlatan. Our family follows the sacred texts for a reason and I don’t want—“

“Charlatan,” Berthe repeats. She lets Rachel’s hand slide from hers so she can stand and face Mrs. Rayne. Berthe is patient. Berthe is not that patient. “Who are you to call me charlatan? It must be easy considering you have no power of your own to sense me with.”

Mrs. Rayne turns red with rage. “You insolent, horrible charlatan—“

Clayman slides between her and Mrs. Rayne, one hand up and warding. “Berthe, you can’t hold her to her words. Traditional witchcraft is rigid in nature. She means no harm—“

Berthe barks a humorless laugh. “No harm? Her daughter is dying from the strength of her beliefs! Why, no one would blame me if I were to spirit her away here and now.”

“Dying?” Rachel asks.

Berthe sucks in a breath, backing away so she can see everyone in the room. Rachel is already fading without Berthe’s magic, sinking back into her pillows. Mrs. Rayne’s lips are pressed into a thin line and Clayman’s smile looks robotic. “You didn’t tell her?” Berthe asks. She looks at the other witch in the room, the one who knows what a crime it is to withhold such information. “Clayman.”

“I didn’t think it was her core,” Clayman defends. He rubs a hand over his straw-colored hair. “I would have if I’d known. I thought it was a curse. Maybe a sickness I didn’t know of.”

He means he thought it was something irrecoverable. He thought it kinder to leave Rachel in the dark as her magic drained, her soul emptied, her body withered.

Traditional witches, Berthe thinks with carefully disguised disgust. Always seem to need an essay to know what’s in front of their face.

“You’re not going to die,” Berthe tells Rachel. She dusts her hands against her apron reflexively, the way she does when she’s finished kneading bread. She lifts her chin, daring Mrs. Rayne to contradict her. “You’re coming into your magic. All we need to do is untangle you before the new moon and you’ll be right as rain by the next full.”

“The new moon is tonight,” Rachel says.

Berthe blinks and then grins. “Oh! And there’s a storm tonight, how perfectly lovely. We can go to my orchard, it’s far enough from the city that the light pollution--”

“No!” Mrs. Rayne thrusts herself between Berthe and Rachel, holding out her hands as if about to throw a spell at Berthe. Her black eyes burn. “No, there will be no going anywhere! My daughter is sick. She needs rest not to go gallivanting about your orchard chanting made up spells and- and eating grass!”

“With all due respect,” Berthe says, “that’s exactly what’s going to happen.” She pauses. “Except for the eating grass part. Where on earth do you traditional witches get things like that?”

“Berthe,” Clayman says. He’s hovering beside Mrs. Rayne now, eyes nervously flicking from Berthe to Rachel and back. As always, he’s smiling. It is particularly ill fitting now. “You were invited here to help. Maybe if you explained a little more, we could come to an agreement on Rachel’s treatment.”

“No,” Mrs. Rayne says. “Clayman, that’s enough--”

“Madame,” Clayman says. His eyes don’t leave Berthe but he addresses Mrs. Rayne. “I beg you for a bit more of your understanding.”

Mrs. Rayne must trust Clayman an awful lot. She settles back on her heels with a huff, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Very well.”

Berthe studies Clayman. There’s a faint sheen of sweat on his upper lip. He’s saying the right things for Mrs. Rayne. He doesn’t want her to panic and do something silly like attack Berthe. But he knows that there aren’t any other options. Rachel is a green witch.

They both know who has jurisdiction here.

Berthe sighs and props her chin in her hand. She cocks her head to one side and clicks her tongue. “What part of my explanation did you not understand, Mrs. Rayne? Perhaps it would be better to start there.”

Clayman covers his eyes with his hands. “Berthe…”

“The part where my daughter is anything but a Rayne,” Mrs. Rayne says. She gestures to Rachel. “She is a pureblooded Rayne! Her powers manifested in the traditional manner.”

“Which is?”

“Telekinesis,” Mrs. Rayne says proudly. “She was two and lifted one of her toys into her crib.”

Of course the woman thinks the most common way to manifest is traditional. “That may be so,” Berthe says, “but the power of a child is pure. It doesn’t have a preference or a shape. That comes later or, in Rachel’s case, now. She is a Rayne, but her magic is green.”

“Green witchcraft isn’t--”

“Your daughter dreams,” Berthe interrupts, losing patience. Truthfully, she isn’t as kind as Clayman. She doesn’t understand why she needs to explain herself to a human. “She dreams she is in the soil, like a seed. Well, it’s time to sprout. She must sprout before the winter chill freezes the ground and she suffocates.”

Clayman’s smile is pinned in place. “Berthe--”

“Mrs. Rayne,” Berthe says, propping her fists on her hips. She glares at the older woman. “The matter is very simple. Your daughter is dying because of the teachings you enforced on her. That’s fine. You’re magicless and you thought you were making the right choice.”

“I may be magicless but my family’s power runs through--”

“BUT.” Berthe stomps her foot and Mrs. Rayne’s mouth slams shut. The older woman doesn’t have time to panic at the silencing spell before Berthe is continuing. “But, it’s not too late to undo what has been done. I will help your daughter untangle herself. It must be today. It must be tonight. Once we do, she will recover her strength and her magic will bloom fuller and deeper than it was before.”

Mrs. Rayne rubs at her throat frantically.

Clayman mutters under his breath, pulling and swishing his oak wand in one motion. With the sound of a bell, he breaks Berthe’s spell. He is not smiling now. “Berthe. I must ask you not to lay workings on my employer.”

Mrs. Rayne is shaking with rage. “You--you dare? I am Elizabeth Rayne, matriarch of the Rayne Family and Coven--”

“And I am Berthe Steighart,” Berthe snaps. “Arbitrator of the Light Council, mediator of the Dark and North American Representative of the Green Witches.” She glares at Clayman from her peripherals. “I do not need permission to silence a human, Clayman.”

Mrs. Rayne squawks. “Human--”

“Berthe,” Clayman says, “I invited you here. She is under my protection.”

Berthe breathes out through her nose. Clayman is brandishing his wand like he’ll actually fight her. What he’s saying makes sense though. Along with being rigid, traditional witches tend to be awfully noble. “She may be under your protection, Clayman, but her daughter is now under mine. I won’t allow a green witch to wilt in front of me.”

“I know,” Clayman says. He lowers his wand and rubs a hand over his face. “I know. No one is trying to stop you, Berthe. I am asking you to have sympathy. The Raynes are an established and well-respected family. Their magic has been dormant for so long that no one would’ve been able to anticipate it would resurface, much less as a green witch. Can you understand Mrs. Rayne’s denial? Admitting Rachel is a green witch is like admitting the Rayne Family’s traditional magic is dead.”

“Nobody,” Berthe says, throwing her hands into the air, “nobody is saying that Rachel can’t practice traditional magic anymore!”

“What?” Clayman asks.

Mrs. Rayne gapes. “Yes, you are! You’re saying my daughter is like you--”

“Her core is, yes,” Berthe says. She pinches the bridge of her nose. Her head is beginning to throb. “The death of a family’s magic, Clayman? Really?”

“Well,” Clayman says. He shifts his weight from foot to foot. “...isn’t it?”

Berthe wants to scream. Sometimes she forgets that Clayman, for all his power, is so young. Berthe was born onto her path. Clayman’s only been practicing for a decade. “Very, very few grimoires are specific to a certain magical core. The Rayne family’s grimoire is advanced, yes, but it’s broad. It’s not that the Rayne family has never had a green witch before. It’s that they’ve never had a witch with a strong enough affinity for it to matter.”

“Ah,” Clayman says. He clears his throat. “I may have misunderstood something.”

Berthe forces herself to calm down. “You’re a very powerful witch, Clayman. Your core is traditional, but that’s unusual. Traditional is usually a practice, not a state of being. Most witches tend towards green, light, dark, or deity magicks. I understand how you made a mistake when evaluating Rachel’s core - she had an unusual upbringing - but now you have the correct information. It’s time to help Rachel now.”

Clayman rubs the back of his neck. His smile creeps across his face. “You think I’m powerful?”

Berthe swats at him.

“Ms. Steighart?”

Berthe turns to Rachel. Oh dear, she nearly forgot the young lady was there. “Yes?”

Rachel grimaces as she adjusts herself against her pillows. “This untangling…will it cure me?”

“Yes.”

“And I’ll be able to use my family’s grimoire after?”

Berthe pouts. “If you want to. But you have such a lovely green soul. I think you should--”

Rachel is already shaking her head. “I am a Rayne. I want to use my ancestor’s spells.”

Mrs. Rayne presses a hand to her chest. “Rachel.”

“Mom,” Rachel says. She reaches out a hand and sighs when her mother grabs hold. “I know it’s against what you believe. What I believe. But if it can help me, I want to do it.” She tries for a smile and ends up with another grimace. “If I’m going to rebuild our family’s coven, I need to be alive to do it.”

Berthe sucks her teeth. “Oh, that’s a good argument. I should have led with that.”

“Plant for brains,” Clayman mutters out of the side of his mouth.

Berthe slaps his shoulder.

--------------------.

Thunder rolls through the sky. There isn’t any rain - yet. Berthe stands between two of her oldest trees and tips back her head. She smells power in the air, lightning and rain and magic. She grins up into the night.

New moon.

“Ms. Steighart?”

Berthe turns. Rachel wrings her hands together, eyes darting nervously from the shivering treetops to the stormclouds to Berthe. Behind her, Berthe’s house is well lit. There are two figures in the kitchen window peering anxiously out to them.

Rachel is dressed in a simple, linen gown. Her long, black hair is loose down her back and, in the dark, the stress of the past few weeks fades away. She looks young (as she should) and alive (as she should). Magic sparks in her aura as the thunder rumbles around them.

“The ground,” Rachel says. She looks down at her bare feet and wiggles her toes in the soil. There’s awe in her eyes when she looks back at Berthe. “The ground is breathing.”

Berthe grins. There is nothing better than a new witch learning to see. She holds out her hand. “Come on, Rachel. It’s starting.”

Lightning cracks the sky and Rachel takes Berthe’s hand.

-----

Thanks for reading! It’s Halloween season which means there will be witches and horror on this blog for the foreseeable future!

Next week’s short story: Marigold Fletcher is a good witch. However, when her dark past comes knocking, her reputation is on the line.

You can read the story now on my Patreon (X) where I post all of my stories a week early! 

Also thank you everyone who bought my anthology, Being Heroes, Being Villains (X) and to those who reviewed it! I’ll be making a post this weekend about the reviews which have been so kind :) Thank you!

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Caught In The Rain

Summary- 6.2k Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. Spring showers have taken over life and everyone is trying to escape the rain. Curtis stumbles upon a little stowaway while he is trying to get to his dry home where his Honey is waiting for him.

Warnings- Mentions of asshole Jake.

A/N- Hey everyone! Been a hot minute but thanks for sticking around to read their story! Special shout out to @mumbles411 and @what-is-your-plan-today for the time you all have spent editing my messes. Dividers made by the talented @firefly-graphics. Happy Reading! and remember reblogs and comments are so appreciated.

Chapter Twenty-Seven / Masterlist

“Fucking hell.” Curtis cursed out while the rain splattered around him, the month of April certainly proving to be wet with spring showers. He was trying to get an engine moved into the overhead shelter out of the rain with Grey and Edgar so they could at least switch out the parts without being waterlogged. The mud sloughed around them while the broken machine sluggishly made its way to the overhead. All three of them pausing from their work to look out from under the shelter’s roof. The grey skies showed no sign of the much needed sunshine. 

“What was it about April showers?” Edgar asked and Curtis, thoroughly grumpy with feeling soaked through all his layers, growled out. 

“Pissing me off is what it’s about. It could let up for at least a couple hours to get those parts changed.” 

Grey handed over a towel to Curtis, letting him dry his face off. “I guess we could hold off till tomorrow? Maybe the weather will break.” 

“Tomorrow is too late, Gilliam told us to finish this today so it can leave the yard.” Curtis sighed as he handed the towel off to Edgar, who ran it over his hair, spiking it up as he dried himself off. “So unless we wanna be here all night, let's get this done.” 

Several hours and several parts later, Curtis was finally clocking out. Already he texted you that he was going to be late and that if you wanted to head back to your apartment, he understood. 

You were sure to send a photo back of you lounging in his living room with a book in your lap and cup of tea in hand, saying not a chance was he getting rid of you that easily. As if he would ever want that, Curtis thought to himself. 

He flicked off lights as he made his way out of the main office, the last one to leave for the day. Curtis double checked that it was all locked up before he made the run for his truck across the parking section, trying to avoid the rain although it was a losing battle. The drops were streaking down almost sideways, the wind picking up the more the storm raged on. He dug for his keys in his coat, willing them to unlock his door. 

Grasping them, he yanked them out of his pocket but fumbled, making his keys drop into the mud at his feet. “Damn it.” He groaned, sweeping down to grasp them when a pair of small green eyes stared at him from under his truck. 

They blinked at one another for a second before Curtis lowered down more into a squat, trying to peer under his truck at the little stowaway. “Hey little fella, you can’t stay under there.” Curtis softened his voice, reaching out a finger enough to encourage the pair of eyes forward. “Come on out, I won't hurt you.” 

The green eyes blinked at him and then a pitiful squeal was given, making Curtis laugh a bit. “You and me both buddy, how about you come here, let me take a look at you.” Curtis clicked his tongue encouraging, really hoping that it was a kitten or puppy taking refuge under his truck and not some wild animal trying to get out of the rain. 

Finally, the little black shadow started coming into the light. A very scrawny, barely able to walk properly black kitten came out, big green eyes almost too big for its face and water droplets rolling off its whiskers. “Well, damn kid…” Curtis’s palm swept around the little body, scooping him easily into his palm to bring him in against his chest and tuck him into his jacket. “You’re no bigger than a flea, what are you doing under there?” 

Pulling up to a stand, he was quick to unlock his truck and get them both out of the rain. Once inside, he opened his coat again to see the black kitten huddling into the warmth of his sweater, fur all matted and mud streaked. “Guess you’re coming home with me kid.” He sighed, knowing that now he had this kitten, there was no way he could just leave him all alone in the parking lot. “Wait till Honey gets a look at you.” 

You liked being at Curtis’s home alone. It was cozy with the big picture window in the livingroom facing the street, you could curl up and watch the rain drizzle beyond his front porch while being warm and dry. You had spent the better part of the afternoon browsing the wall of books behind the couch, plucking out one you assumed was Lillian’s at one point. A harlequin cowboy romance- the storyline about a lonely schoolteacher and her new beau, the newest cowboy in town. 

It was a silly over the top romance with lots of drama and turned into a vivid page turner for you as the afternoon slowly melded into the evening. Curtis had already messaged you that he was going to be late and should just go back to your apartment if you didn’t feel like waiting. But you weren’t ready to leave your little happy place for the lonely apartment. It just felt like a different kind of empty at Curtis’s house, one that made you feel at peace. 

So you made yourself right at home, around dinner time you did clean up the few dishes he must have used that morning and pulled dinner together for the both of you. Putting your casserole into the oven, the sound of a truck pulling into the driveway let you know that Curtis finally made it back home. 

Quick to set a timer, you clicked open the garage door to see him step out, soaked to the bone from the look of him. “Long day?” You asked while leaning into the doorway. 

“Days like today never seem to end.” He grumbled, his hand cupping a part of his jacket near his chest. “Umm, you're not allergic to cats are you?” 

“No, why?” You straightened up, curious now and a tinge of wonder and excitement dipped into your voice. “Is that what is in your coat?” 

Curtis unzipped part of it and reached in to pull out a little ball of black fur. Now there was no holding you back as you skipped down the couple steps into the garage and tentatively brushed your fingers against the kitten in his palm, cooing softly. “Oh baby, you are so cute.” You scritched behind one little ear and couldn't stop the way you were grinning as the little kitten started to purr. “Where did he come from Curtis? Are you keeping him? Does he have a name? Is it a him or her?” You scooped the kitten into your palms, cuddling the little baby to your chest and started to bring it inside. “You must be starving. Let’s see what Curtis has for you.” Curtis was left behind without getting any answers to the questions you bombarded him with. 

He followed you, pausing to shed off his boots and wet outer clothes to hang up and dry. “Found him under the truck trying to get out of the rain. I have no clue where he came from.” Once he had his jacket hung up and boots tilted near the heater vent to help dry them out, he followed you into the kitchen while you were searching his cupboards. “I have no idea if it’s a boy or girl, I have just been calling it him.” Curtis moved in behind you, going through his upper part of the cupboards while you searched through the bottom. 

“Tuna? Or anything soft? He doesn't look all that old, can he even eat solids?” You fretted while the kitten clung to your sweater, staring wide eyed at all the surroundings. 

“If I don’t have something to use, I will run out to the corner store and get him something.” Curtis pushed aside jars of salsa and canned veggies, scowling at his lack of acceptable food for the kitten. Then a little lonely can of tuna was found, and he grabbed it to hold it up in victory. “But this should work for tonight at least.” 

“Perfect, I will get this baby all cleaned up and some food in that belly.” You peeled the kitten off your sweater and cupped him in your hands, finally getting a good look at Curtis. “You’re soaked.” Your free hand went to grab his shirt, squeezing it a bit to feel how damp it was. “I got this, how about you go dry out and get changed.” 

“You sure you don’t want help?” Curtis questioned, although grateful for the chance to get out of his work clothes finally. 

“Handsome I got this, please before you get chilled and sick.” You glanced at the oven to look at the timer. “That casserole still has a good forty-five minutes at least. 

“Damn Pretty Girl, you're really taking care of me… us.” He added the kitten in your hold after a second thought, clasping onto your chin to tilt your face up a bit and place a kiss on your mouth, taking his time to draw out a soft whimper and sure your toes were curling at the affection. “Thank you.” He whispered before splitting away, making for the stairs, the upstairs shower and his bedroom calling his attention now. 

His girl making herself right at home in his house, and damn he liked that just fine. 

While Curtis went upstairs to clean up, you assessed the kitten in your hold. Big eyes blinked up at you before the loudest squeak came from his little pink mouth, protesting the lack of action you were doing. “Okay! Okay… how about a quick rinse in the sink? Get some of this mud off.” 

The kitten didn't like that, protested the whole time you had him in the sink, the running water warm while you worked your fingers through his fur and holding onto his scruff. But you were quick, soon wrapping him into a hand towel and carefully fluffing him up till he looked like an little angry furball. 

Setting him onto the floor, the kitten scampered to under the table, flicking each little paw one at a time as if being wet was his biggest worry. You rolled your eyes at him while a little pink tongue defiantly started licking at his chest. With a can opener in hand, you started to peel the tuna’s top open. “You know being clean and wet is much better then muddy and wet.” You squeezed some of the juice onto a saucer while also scooping out some of the meat. You were answered with a little cackle of a mew. “Oh? You agreeing with me?” You set the saucer well away from the table, knowing Curtis would be back down soon and not wanting the kitten underfoot. “Come on lil guy.” You coaxed for him, hoping the smell would bring him out. 

It didn’t though, the kitten blinked at you from the shadows under the table and then resorted to cleaning himself once again. “Alright, suit yourself.” Your hands slapped on your knees and with a slight moan, you pushed yourself back to a stand. 

“Hey, you okay?” Curtis asked as he came back into the kitchen, out of his wet clothes, freshly showered and looking more like himself. A black tee and his grey sweats were his current comfy clothes of choice, ones which you appreciated on many levels. Taking an appraising look, you let yourself sink into his arms finally, cuddling up to his chest for a moment to bury your face into the soft tee, his soap still strong smelling as you inhaled deeply. “Mmh, very. Just a bit sore from my workout today. I got him all washed, and some food out but he hasn’t come out from under the table.” You shrugged while leaning down enough to peek and see where the kitten was now. 

“He will when he gets a whiff of it.” Curtis rubbed at your back, soothing his hand where he figured you might be a bit sore. “Me on the other hand, I'm starving. What’s cooking?” 

“Cheesy chicken and broccoli casserole…” You pulled away to look in the oven. “And it's just about done.” When you turned back around, you found Curtis kneeling under the table with the little saucer of tuna, encouraging the kitten to eat. 

Without saying anything, you turned the oven off and moved to the floor next to Curtis, both of you now feeding the little stray. He started voraciously eating the tuna off both of your fingers. After a few moments, you softly nudge Curtis’s shoulder. “What are we going to do with him tonight?” 

It was such a soft sight for you to witness. Curtis holding out his large fingers for the kitten to nibble tuna off of, everything in him was about being as gentle as possible. “I can put him in the upstairs bathroom for now, make a bed for him in the tub in case he has an accident.” 

“And then?” Your mouth twists at the thought of having to find him a new home. 

“Then maybe contact the local ASPCA… see where to go from there.” 

You nod in understanding, Curtis had never mentioned wanting pets in his home before. “I used to have a cat a long time ago. Her name was Friskey, although I called her Friskababes.” You finally stretched out to lay on your belly, Curtis doing the same next to you while you took turns feeding the kitten. 

It didn't matter that dinner was cooling above you on the stove or if anyone walked into Curtis's house, they would find you two lying on the kitchen floor, heads under the table. You both were in your own little world, taking care of the kitten who was starting to slow down his feasting. Pink tongue wiping over his whiskers as he waddled now to Curtis, purring as he head-butted against his bearded chin affectionately. “I never had a cat before. I had an ex that did, every time I would go visit her place, the cat didn’t like me.” 

You smirked while watching the scene before you, your arms folded and your head resting on them. The kitten was working on wedging himself into the neck of Curtis’s shirt, batting at his gold chain. “Yeah well, I think this one likes you, a lot. Guess it’s a good thing you're not with that ex anymore.” 

“Well I like this one a lot more too.” Curtis admitted while the kitten curled up against the crook of his neck and shoulder, his little claws kneading into his tee shirt. “Both the cat and the partner.” He winked at you with a brilliant blue teasing glance, making you huff in a soft laugh. 

“Smooth move Stud. You know…” You inched over closer to him, lifting enough to whisper into his ear. “Seeing you taking care of this helpless kitten… it is sexy as hell. Too bad you are too busy taking care of him to do anything about it.” You nipped at his ear lobe, giggling as you slipped out from under the table before Curtis could react. 

“It is?” He couldn’t move out, not like you were able to with the now snoozing black bundle of fur cuddled up against his neck. But he wriggled out, cupping the little protesting kitten, scooping him up while he moved to stand, catching sight of you up the stairs. “Listen kid… You are gonna chill for a while? I got a sweet little Honey to tend to.” He lectured the kitten while making his way up the stairs. The kitten meowed loudly, either in protest for being bothered while napping or in understanding. 

Curtis didn’t really care, he was just paying attention to you teasing from the door, peeking around it to watch him stalking down the upstairs hallway for you. You gave a bit of a pout. “You were supposed to take your time, you know, not wake the baby.” 

“He is fine.” Curtis assured you, holding up the yawning little black mass that made up the kitten. In the corner of the room was a laundry basket full of his clean clothes, and he deposited the kitten into it before twisting to catch you, knowing you were getting ready to bolt out of reach. You laughed as he pulled you back into his chest, his mouth teasing against a sweet spot behind your ear. “Now tell me more about this sexy as hell business.” 

His hands slid up the front of your shirt, cupping your breasts and teasing at your nipples through your bra. You wriggled against him, sure to push your ass against his groin. “You know what those sweatpants do to me.” You whined as your head tilted to the side, “My big giant of a boyfriend going all gentle and taking care of a kitten? That’s like right out of a book.” 

His big hands squeezed your breasts, pulling just enough to make the tingles shoot through you, arching yourself into him for more of his touch. “Fuck Honey I love when you say shit like that.” He twisted you to face him and walk backwards to the bed, pulling up the shirt you wore right over your head and making you fall with a bounce onto his bed. 

You wriggled up to give him room to follow, grinning at him while you worked your bra off. “Like what?” 

Curtis hovered over you, his gaze now on your breasts, like he couldn't look away while a hand fondled one, pulling up over you enough so he could get his mouth on you. Dragging a nipple into his mouth, sensitive from his earlier teasing, it tightened against his tongue; the feeling of his hot wet mouth made you keen at the sensation, pulling and sucking on it until you scratched at the bed to grab the sheets. “When you call me your boyfriend. It’s like I’m yours and I love you for it.” He said after he popped your peak from his mouth, looking at you now, his gaze an intense sliver of blue and blown pupils, making your breath catch for a moment.

“You are mine and I am yours.” You took a moment to sink back onto the bed, catching your breath with a few deep gasps.

He rumbled from between your cleavage now, his tongue lavishing against your skin as he shifted down to kiss and nibble over your belly. “Well it’s a turn-on for me when you just call me yours, you know?” His fingers weren’t far, rubbing along your sides and down to your hips, shifting you more under him and sinking down over you while he stretched out to lay over your body. 

You caught his chain to drag him closer, arching up to meet him and kiss him. Your tongue slipped to meet his and tangle till it turned lust-filled and frenzied. Curtis groaned against your mouth, hooking an arm around you and lifting the both of you till he was sitting back on his heels and you were wrapping your legs around his trim waist, in his lap to grind against him. “You are mine Curtis and I see all of you.” Your hands swept up his back and grasped the back of his neck to hold on while your hips rocked in his lap, pushing your sensitive center against him, moaning softly whenever he pressed up against you, making excited tingles race up your spine. “Not just the man who is ridiculously handsome with his rugged good looks and blue eyes that can melt the panties off anyone.” You felt him scoff a bit, but his lips pulled in a grin while he dipped back to your collarbone now, retrailing back to your breasts. Red crept up the back of his neck, a clear sign that he was affected by you. 

He once again eased you onto the bed, looming over you before dropping his weight to push you into the mattress and trap you underneath him. Scratches of his beard against your sensitive skin made you wriggle underneath him while his weight continued to pin you in place. “But the side that loves his friends like family, treats me like a fucking goddess, stargazes, reads, takes in little stray kittens found under trucks.” Your voice went a bit higher with emotion while he mapped your body, not leaving an inch of your chest or belly unexplored. 

It’s like the kitten knew he was being mentioned cause all of a sudden the little black ball poked his head up over the edge of the bed, meowing loudly in that cackle sound that made you both pause a second, then burst out laughing at how ridiculous it sounded in the middle of you two making out. 

“Kid, you are busting in at the wrong time.” Curtis pulled himself off of you while the kitten kept scrambling up the side of the bed till it was tumbling across the mattress towards you both, his little tail straight up like an exclamation point. Before he could reach you two, Curtis got a hold of him and moved back. “Don’t go anywhere Pretty Girl. I’m not done with you.” Stiff legged, he moved his way across the bedroom and disappeared into the bathroom. You stretched a bit, patiently waiting till you heard Curtis lecturing the kitten. “Stay here, just go to sleep or something. Look a nice fluffy towel, courtesy of Honey.” He flickered on a nightlight and then eased out of the bathroom, using his foot to keep the kitten back till the door shut. 

You pushed yourself up to your elbows, watching him as he turned on the balls of his feet, grabbing his shirt to pull it over his head. “Our guest is away for the moment.” 

“Uh huh… that's why I can see little paws scratching under the door?” You pointed towards the floor, where sure enough black paws were stretching through that little space, and another little pitiful squeal pierced out. 

“Shit…” Curtis used his toes to nudge at them. “Come on dude… just an hour, that's all we need.” 

That had you laughing again, rolling in the bed till you could push yourself to the edge to find one of Curtis’s nearby shirts. “I know we were busy but…” You tugged it over your head, making Curtis scowl at the sight of you covering back up. “Let’s pick this up later? It’s obvious he doesn’t want to be in there and he is not at all tired.” 

“Cock blocked by a cat…” He grumbled a bit as he opened the door and the kitten shot right out, landing at your feet in a tangle of limbs. 

“Didn’t you say you were starving?” You pointed out as you reached Curtis, running your hands up his chest and hooking your hands around the back of his neck. “Cause I do gotta take care of that casserole downstairs still.” 

It was the most opportune moment that his stomach protested, making you arch a brow that you were indeed correct. “Fine! Fine, this is on pause. Just for now.” His hands cupped your face and kissed you, a quick fast one, no lingering, no turning into something more. “But I’m certainly not finished with you.” 

“I don’t ever expect you to be.” You winked at him, before reaching to take one of his hands and lead him back downstairs. Behind the two of you the kitten followed, bouncing down each step till he bypassed both of them and trotted into the downstairs living room like it was all his. 

A couple of days turned into a couple of weeks and the kitten was still at Curtis’s house. Slowly food bowls, a cat box and some toys appeared. You took the little black kitten to the vet, whom he hissed and swiped his little sharp claws at. The vet confirmed that he was a male kitten and just barely old enough to have been separated from his mother. 

You explained how Curtis found him and that Curtis had gone back the next day searching for more, but he only found him. You lined up for the appropriate shots and left with the understanding to the staff that you weren’t sure if you or Curtis would be keeping him. It made your heart ache though, thinking about bringing him to a shelter to be adopted by someone else. 

Even though as a kitten, he had the best chance at someone taking him. You just didn't want to let the little kitten go, even when he was yowling in the car the whole ride back to Curtis’s after the appointment. 

Curtis was sure to meet you outside when you arrived back, grabbing the cat carrier before you were able to and carrying it inside. “What did they say about him?” 

“He is definitely a boy, so we're correct in calling the little fluffer a boy. He is about ten weeks old… just barely able to leave his mom and he is a bit malnourished but to just keep him on the food we are using and he will be just fine.” You shrugged out of your jacket once inside and Curtis sprang the door open, the kitten dashing out and glaring at both of you over his shoulder for being trapped in the carrier, flicking his tail at you two. “And… the vet wanted to know what name they should put on the file and if we're going to keep him.” 

It was out there now, were you guys going to keep this kitten? Curtis’s brow came together in thought, glancing back at the kitten who now was checking out the stainless steel food bowls Curtis bought last week along with the rather expensive bag of kitten food that he insisted on, claiming it would help the ‘Kid’ get some meat on his bones. “What did you say?” 

“I said that I had to talk to you, considering if we kept him, he has to stay here. My little apartment doesn't allow pets of any kind. I’m almost shocked they haven't bitched about Peter my spider plant.” You said jokingly. 

“Well… I guess that leaves just one thing to do about him, then doesn't it.” Curtis stated so solemnly that your heart sank. He didn’t want a kitten here, you were sure of it. What if it destroyed his stuff or became a problem? You could almost hear your ex’s disgusted voice when you once mentioned that you missed having a pet. What would you want an animal in the house for? They just make messes and cost money. Jake had made up for his callous remark by buying you a goldfish, stuffing it in a goldfish bowl that you immediately got rid of, and bringing the fish to your parent's house with a proper tank since you knew that the tank would just be another issue for Jake to press on. Your goldfish was still happily living there, having gotten big and beautiful in the few years they have had him. 

A cat was a bigger responsibility than a goldfish and you were preparing yourself for Curtis to say he was going to take him to the adoption center. 

“What do we name him?” He asked, his arms folding over his chest as he stared at the kitten, studying him. “I know I have been calling him Kid, but he needs something better than that.” 

“You- you mean it? You want to keep him?” 

“Honey, he was ours from that first night I brought him home. He is family now, the little punk. Besides, I would be worrying myself over who took him home if we didn’t.” 

You felt such a rush of relief that you flung yourself at Curtis, who caught you with a surprised grunt, your hug around him turning fierce. “I love you so damn much, thank you for wanting to keep him.” 

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you in against him just as tightly and pressing his mouth to your forehead affectionately. “I would be such an asshole if I just tossed him away, this house is plenty big enough for him to terrorize.” He eased you back a bit to look down at you. “And you know once Sophia sees him, that he would have to stay anyways, as if she is ever gonna let him leave. So… names?” 

“Damn, I don’t know… I tried not to think of names, so I wouldn’t get attached. Um, Midnight?” 

“Same… although calling him Kid kinda ruined that. Hmm, Onyx?” Curtis threw out there. 

“Nah, makes me think of Pokémon too much.” 

“Coal?” He shrugged a bit, throwing another black cat name out.

“Cinders?” 

“What about Salem? He acts like that sassy cat on Sabrina.” 

“You watched Sabrina, the nineties version?” You asked, having loved that show yourself. 

“Sure, Ella loved it and I would watch it on TGIF night. Hey Salem, come here.” Curtis called but the kitten curled up in a window, sunbathing and ignoring the two of them.”Guess not.” 

You two just kept throwing out names that seemed fitting for black cats, but none of them seemed to fit the little bundle of terror. 

You both went on with the day, as you went to meet up with Claude at the school to help her with a quick project and Curtis went over to Paulie’s to do some late afternoon bartending. 

It was later when you finally got to Paulies,  patrons already getting rowdy at a baseball game Paulie had on the overhead tv. 

You scanned quickly, but their was no Curtis in sight. “Hey Paulie, where’s Curtis hiding?” 

“Out back Y/N.” He pulled the bar section up enough for you to duck through. “Make sure he swings back out for his tips before you guys leave for the night. You know, if you ever want a part time job, I can easily hook you up. You’re a lot nicer then Curtis, you'll make way more tips.” 

You rolled your eyes at Paulie as you hip checked through the door out back. “I doubt I would make more tips.” 

Paulie shook his head as he watched you walk away, tsking to himself. “That girl doesn’t even know that everyone loves her.” He sighed as he went back to refill mugs and take food requests. 

You worked your way towards the rear of the building where the backstock was kept, catching sight of Curtis and Edgar lining up to throw axes in the indoor designated area. You could see Yona standing back, watching their form. Edgar went first, his lean body flexing with strength as he leaned into his throw, making his axe spin rapidly with a heavy thunk into the target, almost at the bullseye. Yona gave a victory whoop and you had to add in your own claps of approval, making him spin in surprise at the extra praise. “Throw those last two, if you keep throwing like that, you should be captain of the team.” 

Edgar gave a shrug, finally turning back to set himself back up. “I wouldn’t know first thing about being a team captain.” He went again, able to accurately eyeball it, this time the axe embedded on the opposite side, leaving inches between the two and the bullseye right in the middle. 

Curtis swung his own, close to the middle, but not with the accuracy of Edgar’s throw. He scoffed at Edgar’s words, sure to cross his arms over his chest and study both the targets. “Man, why the hell not? You are obviously good at this, you are doing better then any of us and the whole team was your idea. Why not be the captain of it when we start competing this summer.” 

Edgar let go of his last one, both the men watching as it landed right in the middle with a heavy thud, all three almost perfectly lined up. You and Yona cheering and clapping, making Edgar blush wildly. “I don’t, I never…” He stammered a bit, unsure of how to answer. 

Curtis was blunt with him while he started preparing for his next throw. “Man, you gotta stop thinking the worst of yourself. Look at where you are now compared to months ago.” His arm curled over his head and he gave a powerful thrust, leaning into the move. The axe landed heavily into the board, making it wobble slightly and then straighten back out. “Don’t sit there and think you can’t before you even try. All of us think you can. Look.” Curtis motioned behind him back towards Yona and you who were now pouring drinks from a pitcher, lost in conversation. “They clearly think you're hot stuff, cheering at that last throw? Grey and I think you’re the man for the job. Now the question is, do you wanna be captain?” 

Edgar was looking for an answer, but with an impatient arch of Curtis’s brow he stammered out “Yes, yeah… yeah I can do it.” 

Curtis gave a nod of agreement. “Good man.” Then twisted to toss his remaining axe, sinking it into the target. 

You and Yona were watching the guys in what looked like a heated conversation, but weren’t making out much of what they were saying. Yona furrowed her brow worried. “You think everything is okay?” 

You glanced up at them while filling the mugs. “Sure, no one is being dragged out and no one is yelling. They are fine. Tell me about your date last night?” You really weren't sure, but if no one was looking like they were about to throw a punch, you figured it was probably fine. Curtis was pretty relaxed looking for the most part, his attention divided between talking to Edgar and focusing on the targets. 

Those were your favorite moments, because damn he just looked so masculine in his throws. The way his body would flex and tense the muscles in his shoulders and back, leading down to his ass. You started to let yourself imagine what that would all look naked? Wide shoulders that tapered down to a slimmer waist, he had a stunning back, you knew cause you'd admired it whenever he took his shirt off. 

“Then he surprised me with one of those midnight openings at this bookstore in the city.” Your attention turned back to Yona, who had a faraway dreamy look recalling her night before. 

“Sounds pretty incredible, the bookstore especially.” You were quick to take a sip of your beer, trying to cover for the fact that you were daydreaming instead of listening to your friend, but now you were making sure to pay attention. “I would have loved that myself.” 

“I know they do it every couple of months.” She yanked out her phone and started typing on it. “Let me send you the link. What were you and Curtis up to?” 

You let your gaze drift back to the guys, now they were both laughing while wandering to the targets to grab the axes. “Well I took that black kitten this morning to the vet for a checkup, see if he needed anything. That opened up a convo about are we keeping him.” 

“And? I know you have fallen for him.” Yona inquired while she put her phone back away. “He would be a nice addition if you are ready for a pet.” 

“I wanted to, but my apartment is no pets allowed. I had myself all set for Curtis to say no… but he said absolutely he wanted to keep him.” Your grin spread, the way he had shocked you was still making your heart clench in excitement. “Now we need a name!” 

“Oh the best part.” Yona pressed on, waving a hand for you to continue. “What’s his name gonna be?” 

“Don’t know yet, every name we thought of that seemed to fit neither of us agreed on.” It was like a light bulb went off in your head and suddenly you were kicking yourself for not thinking of it earlier. “But! I think I have it. Give me a second.” Before Yona could question you, you headed over to where Curtis was set his axes down, ready to take a break. 

“Hey Pretty Girl.” His blue eyes shifted over you and a sultry grin crossed his lips. 

“I got it!” You bypassed your typical flirty answer, too excited at the moment. 

Curtis’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Got what Honey?” 

“The name, our kitten’s name. What about Thackery Binx? Or just one of the names, doesn’t have to be the whole thing. From Hocus Pocus.” 

He looked thoughtful while considering it. “Why the hell didn’t we think of that before? It’s perfect.” His arms scooped around you, tugging you in close. “How about just Binx if you're okay with that? I like it more for him.” 

You nodded with enthusiasm. “I like it too, so I think he will.  He looks like a Binx.”

[keithsandwich]

Belonging

Gen (referenced Keith/OC - Maeve)

Word Count: ~1.4k

Rating: General Audiences (SFW)

Tags: Time Traveling, Kid!Maeve, Mild Blood (Scraped Knee).

Summary: Maeve receives an unexpected guest in the conservatory.

Notes: Thank you @solacedeer for the idea and @lorei-writes for always being amazing and helping me edit my stories 💕 Also, thank you @fang-and-feather for kindly letting me use an Indicolitian name for Maeve's father :)

Maeve hummed a song mindlessly as she poured hot water into the teapot. Golden dried flowers swirled inside, releasing a soothing aroma that mingled with the symphony of herbal scents already filling the conservatory air. It was such a peaceful time of day. The kids were either studying or napping, and Keith was about to take a quick break to join her there. Sharing these little moments with her husband made her chirp like a bird. The tea was brewing. The galettes were crispy. The fruits were fresh.

Everything was perfect…

…Until Maeve heard a tiny little hum echoing her own.

She stopped immediately, and the voice quieted a second later. Her green eyes darted around, intrigued and scanning the familiar surroundings; the usual plants were all in their places. There wasn't even a breeze to disturb the stillness of the leaves, and it was only birds that made a cheerful fuss here and there. Just as Maeve began to suspect she was imagining things, a rustling sound caught her attention, and behind a flowery shrub, she spotted another pair of green eyes, so similar to her own.

“Luna?” She hurried toward the little girl who was clumsily trying to hide, only for her to duck further behind the plant. Maeve felt her heart clutching inside her chest. “Sweetheart, what's wrong?”

Maybe the urgency in her voice made the girl realize how serious she was. Or maybe it was just curiosity. When the child stood up and they were face to face, Maeve saw that it wasn't understanding or curiosity that had made her look up. The poor girl was scared too. And she definitely wasn't her Luna.

“Oh…” Maeve took a step back, giving room for the little one to reveal herself completely.

Nothing but a dirty pair of knitted stockings covered her little feet. Shabby and yellowed, they disappeared under the hem of her plain, colorless woollen dress. The girl rubbed her reddened eyes before letting Maeve get a good look at her face again. She didn’t have many freckles, but the patterns of the ones she did were all too familiar to Maeve.

“Lady, do you know what this place is?”

Maeve looked up at the glass ceiling. Of course, for a girl who had never left her small village, being suddenly transported to a distant time and place was strange enough. But to find herself in a conservatory — a huge glass cage filled with plants, some she had only seen in the wild, and others she had never seen before — must have been overwhelming. Maeve herself didn’t know how the girl ended up there, but soothing a child's mind was more important than unraveling her own confusion.

“This is a conservatory. It's a nice place, isn't it? We can take care of plants in here, even the ones that are too rare or too fragile to be outside in the weather.” Maeve’s words made the child furrow her brows, so she giggled to try to lift her spirits. “It took me a while to get used to it, too. I’ve always thought nature belonged in the wild. But the plants enjoy it here too.”

The girl still looked at her with suspicion in her eyes, and Maeve wondered if she herself had always carried such an intense stare. It suddenly didn’t matter, however, as the girl bounced toward the table like a curious little bird. She held onto the edge and stood on her tiptoes, taking in all the different pastries, juicy fruit, and the steaming teapot.

“Would you like to have tea with me?” Maeve offered, but the child emphatically shook her head. “Oh,” Maeve said, her mind suddenly filled with nostalgia. “Mama told you to refuse food from strangers because they might be fairies trying to entrap you, right?”

“Do you know mama? You were humming the lullaby she sings to me…”

“I do,” Maeve replied, crouching down to her eye level. The girl was still suspicious and scared, the poor thing. Maeve had to take a deep breath to hold back her tears as she spoke the next words. “You're Mabel and Bruno's daughter. They're shepherds. You have a little lamb named Rose, you gave her this name because roses are your birth month's flower.”

“Who are you, lady? I’ve never seen you in the village…” she mumbled shyly. “You are a fairy, aren’t you?”

“Well, I’m not a fairy, nor do I have any interest in entrapping you, but while you’re here, you should at least take a seat, okay?”

The child nodded slowly, and Maeve smiled before pulling out a chair for her. As she sat down, Maeve noticed a small spot of blood on her right stocking.

“Are you hurt?” Maeve asked gently.

The girl lifted the hem of her dress to reveal a scraped knee.

“I fell from the oak tree,” she lamented. “I couldn’t climb it, and I tore my stocking. Mama will be angry with me.”

“No, mama won’t be angry. She’ll be worried because you’re hurt, that’s all,” Maeve said with a soft laugh. “Do you mind if I tend to it?”

“You would?” The girl’s little face lit up. “Can you fix the stocking too?”

“Sweetheart, your wound is more important right now.” Maeve served the tea just to dip a napkin in it. “It’s calendula. It tastes delicious, but it can also prevent your wound from getting infected.” The girl flinched when Maeve tried to put the napkin on her scraped knee, but Maeve smiled reassuringly. “And best of all, it doesn’t hurt. Will you let me?”

“Okay…” the girl murmured with half-trust, but it was still enough of trust for Maeve to carefully start cleaning her knee.

“You know,” Maeve began, “that oak tree was too tall for you right now, but you were so brave for trying to climb it.” She smiled to herself. She had started talking to distract the little one while she tended to her scraped knee, but now she realized she was searching for the words she would tell her younger self if she could turn back time. “Many people will tell you it’s better to be safe rather than brave. Some will say it out of worry, like mama, but many will say it because they think they know your destiny. They’ll tell you, ‘You’re a peasant girl, you can’t dare to be anything else.’ But you’re going to be so many things you can’t even dream of now. Life is… really, a strange thing. The Goddess takes us to places where we feel like we don’t belong, like this conservatory. But we’re never where we’re not supposed to be. In the end, only the Goddess knows our destiny, right?”

“Right…” The little one blinked a few times before nodding.

Maeve knew it was too much for her to understand at once, but she hoped the girl would remember her words when she needed them most. She took her own clean handkerchief and tied it gently around the girl’s knee.

“Are you MH?” the girl asked, looking down at the handkerchief. “I’m learning letters, and those are the letters of your monogram, aren’t they?”

“Yes, yes you’re right! I’m MH.” Maeve nodded, as she touched the embroidered monogram on the handkerchief.

“My name has an M like yours. I’m MS! But I don’t have a monogram,” the little girl said, more at ease than before. “Yours is beautiful.”

“You’ll have one. One as beautiful as this, you'll see.”

Finally, they shared a smile — an honest, warm one. Without warning, the girl threw her arms around Maeve, hugging her with all her little might.

“Thank you, Lady MH! I don’t know who you are, but I feel like I know you somehow,” the child said cheerfully.

“I’m the Queen of Jade,” Maeve replied, gently holding her back. “And you, my dear, are the very soul of this kingdom. The prince in the woods will recognize that within you.”

When Keith arrived in the conservatory, he found his wife with her dress lifted to reveal one of her knees, her head bowed as she traced an old, faded scar with the tips of her fingers. She had once told him she got that scar as a child when she tried to climb an oak tree that was too high for her.

“Mae… Is everything alright?” he asked softly.

She nodded and looked up at him. There were tears in her eyes.

But she smiled.

And it was one of the most radiant smiles he had ever seen.

.

.

.

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