#spiritual protection ring

[artsystudiofinds]

My favorite, an 'Eye of Horus' carved natural moldavite ring handcrafted in silver in antique style using traditional silversmithing hand tools. These ancient symbols created by one of the greatest civilizations on this planet earth is still relevant. Resonate with this symbol and enjoy the Cosmic bliss 👽

[pgarvin-me]

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[ambermotta]

6 Types of Protection Magick

There are many ways one can do protective magick. In this post I'll be going into 6 of the most common and accessible ones!

Please understand that even one "protection magick type" can be done in an infinity of ways, some of which are closed to certain practices.

Disclaimer: based on my experience and research. I don't claim to know all truth. Further study is encouraged!

_________________♡♤◇♧_________________

#1 — Magic circle

The magic circle consists of creating a protection and delimiting a sacred space for magic and/or ritual.

The magic circle is probably one of the most popular protection methods thanks to its encouraged use in Wicca. However, other traditions have made use of similar concepts, such as in the afro-brazillian Umbanda concept of "chain".

The circle can be physically drawn on the ground, delimited by the members inside the circle, or visualized.

Casting one is fairly simple since it can be done in different ways, either in groups or solitary practice. You can use tools such as wands, chalk or physical objects to draw it, but what matters most is intention and successful visualization.

Before casting a circle it's important to have everything you will need already within grasp and inside the circle, since once created it is advisable that no one leaves it until the work is complete.

#2 — Amulets, and Enchanted Items

Enchanted Items are a very popular and effective form of magic, especially for personal use. These are often common objects that have been enchanted for protection.

They are often necklaces, rings and other jewelry since these are the most practical to carry around without suspicion. However, they can be any object.

Amulets can be created via enchanting, charms, or by asking deities and spirits to bless them with protective qualities.

The material and imagery used to create the talisman is also important in determining the kind of job it wants to do.

#3 — Sigils and other drawn Symbols

Sigils and Symbols can be used both for personal protection and for warding spaces. Here I am also including Runes.

They can be carved into objects, drawn upon skin and surfaces, or even tattooed.

However, before using any sigil, symbol or rune it is of extreme importance that you know exactly what they do, and know as much about them as possible. Especially if you plan on drawing them on your skin (either temporarily or permanently).

Unless specifically used only for protection purposes, inadequate use of them can lead to disaster. Even then, the type of protection they bring can vary.

For example, a protection sigil that works by hiding you from threats is different from a sigil that fights threats that come to you. It's important to set or to know how their protection work so that you do not come across unwanted results.

#4 — Prayer

My definition of praying: focusing on sending a message to a higher spiritual power, be it an entity, deity or energy.

Prayers are a great way of manifesting protection, though since you are asking for it to a higher power you must understand that it may choose to not grant it, or not grant it in the way you expect.

Plus, it is very important to know where you stand with this energy or entity. Do you work with them already? For how long? What is the nature of the relationship? Do you truly know them well enough to ask them for this? Is it really appropriate?

Cultivating a good relationship and having manners can be decisive factors for manifesting this sort of protection. Plus, it's always good to "give back" in some way. To receive something, something must be given eventually.

#5 — Affirmations and Visualizations

Words and the mind have innate power. Affirmations and visualizations are great ways to manifest protections because they rely only on yourself.

They are easier to do right if you use them together with other methods, or if you have physical representations of the work being done. To be successful one must focus, "feel" them happening, and maintaining that without help can be difficult. Frequent practice will help you get the hang of it.

There are also techniques that make affirmations and visualizations both more powerful and easier to accomplish.

#6 — Warding

Warding is when you set up a semi-permanent protection in a specific place, such as your house.

It can be done in many different ways. One of the most common is to have an object or place designated as the "holder" of the ward, which should be well kept.

Warding will be more powerful if you are frequently cleansing the space and recharging the ward. Leaving it alone for too long can weaken in or make it lose its properties altogether.

Some plants are used for this kind of protection, since they (usually) stay in place, can be powerful magical allies, and you'll be checking on them often anyway. The ones usued are often those with thorns, threatening-looking leaves, or even poison.

Note: always be very careful about bringing poisonous plants home, especially if you have children or pets.

Conclusion

This was an overview of the most common types of protective magick. A lot of protection spells and works fall somewhere within these categories, or are a combination of them.

Each tradition has a certain way of going about spiritual protection, so if you are exploring an specific path, I encourage you to not only research about protection in general but to also look into what unique techniques your path has to offer!

Many blessings and thank you for reading! ♡

[kooktrash]

season of the witch | jeon jungkook

summary: he’s not a bad boy, he just gets himself in bad situations at times that lead him to bizarre happenings. for instance, he had no intentions of visiting an occult shop in the middle of the night in search for a phone… but here he is in the middle of October feeling himself fall for the self-titled witch who owned it. suddenly he’s gone from your casual heart breaker, to your sweet boy next door.

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.˚ genre/au: heartbreaker!jk x witch!y/n [she/her], whimsigoth, modern witch, halloween .⊹✶ ✶ ✶☾✴

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆. 16.9k words˚.⊹✶✴

warnings: smut. fluff. very slight angst if you squint. honestly pretty cute. oc gives off whimsigoth vibes but honestly a big softie. mentions of spells and hexes. jk is a skeptic. oc has a black cat named. jk becomes a bit spiritual. honestly just a cute modern witch fic inspired by your 90s witch. no protection bc they’re idiots and didn’t plan. oc is scared to get in relationships. soft sex. oral sex [f receiving] jk is a service dom highkey. actual magic moments but they’re brushed over

HALLOWEEN SPECIAL

mentions of the occult [loosely referenced] it’s just a little Halloween thing, fiction and not at all educational or informative

“Admit that we’re lost.”

The street was as dark as night and empty. It felt like they were the only two signs of life around and yet he refused to admit he’s lost. There’s lit jack-o-lanterns on people’s yards so he knows he’s still close to civilization and that’s enough to keep him going—and he swears he’s not being dramatic.

“We’re not lost,” he said, not bothering to look back at his friend who surely rolled his eyes with annoyance, following after him nonetheless.

“Jungkook, it’s late, I’m tired, just admit we’ve been walking in circles,” his friend said, words falling on deaf ears. Jungkook just smiled, pointing ahead at the first true source of light they’ve seen for a while, “Let’s go there.”

It was almost midnight and most businesses around here were already closed and yet there was a small shop with a red lighting store front and plants hanging from the ceiling. There was a sign on the door that said, ‘OPEN’, with its business hours printed beneath and the shop’s name painted on the window. He didn’t hesitate to swing the door open, hearing the bell above the door ring as they entered the strange shop.

There was so much to look at from books to multi colored rocks separated into groups with labels on them; Tiger’s Eye, Black Onyx, Topaz, Amethyst, the list went on. Hanging above were various green plants and small jars lining the shelves on the walls of rose petals, lavender, mandrake, and plants he’s never heard of before.

“What is this place?” Hoseok asked with a small scoff in disbelief as he held up a charcoal pentagram and a bundle of sage. There were skeleton paper weights and bottles of various oils that gave the shop an herbal smell he couldn’t tell if he liked or not.

Jungkook didn’t have much to say, only shrugged his shoulders in response as he let his attention be drawn toward a hanging suncatcher that caught the red light used to warm the plants in the cold. His hand reached out to touch, watching it dangle and effortlessly swing away from him. There was no one behind the wooden counter filled with handmade jewelry made of copper and nickel twisted in various designs of trees, moons, suns and vines circling around crystals. There was an open book at the counter and he curiously walked toward it, wondering if it was a product list or maybe even the name of the person working but he could barely make out the words or even the dark sketches.

Just as he came to admit there was nobody here, a soft mewl caught his attention.

Yellow eyes stared into his brown ones as he looked up at the wall of ceramic figures behind the counter, and a black cat sat perfectly still next to a small sc of a dragon. He couldn’t look away from it, even when a soft sound of footsteps were heard from behind a tall, woven tapestry with embroidered stars that concealed a wooden spiral staircase.

“Coal, where’d you run off to?” Your voice was light and whimsical yet when you appeared behind the counter, you were dressed in black, a lot of it. A long black skirt with a thin black top that had green vines laced throughout it. Over it you had on a black shawl slipped down your shoulders.

Jungkook and Hoseok shared a strange look as they stood unnoticed while you picked up your cat to scold him for leaving while you talked. Jungkook tried to grab your attention by clearing his throat and once your eyes were on his, he smiled, “Um… hi, we saw that your shop was open and we were won—“

“Coal, I told you to flip the sign,” you whispered to the black cat as you let him jump out of your arms with an annoyed meow when you whispered, “Bad kitty.”

“Uh…” Jungkook couldn’t hide his look of confusion at the way you acted, “We’re uh, we’re lost and we were wondering if you had a phone we could use to call a tow truck.”

“Oh? Have you been in an accident?” You asked curiously, tucking some hair behind your ear creating a small jingle with all the jewelry you wore.

“Funny story actually,” Hoseok said, making you look him over with a raised brow—unable to ignore the bloody hockey jersey he wore, “We were at a party and uh, we got robbed. It was a whole shit show, honestly, we’ve been walking for over an hour and our car broke down so we’re going through it and we really just need a phone.”

“Coal, can you get my phone?” You turned to the cat that had made itself comfortable laying in a basket of dried moss. The cat didn’t make a move to leave, instead he turned his head away making you roll your eyes and add, “Please?”

Jungkook watched the cat run off behind the curtain with interest before looking at you, your eyes already on his, “So what kind of place is this?”

“It’s your local apothecary! Herbs, oils, incense—your occasional occult stuff, we specialize in the craft,” you said with a bubbly voice, “All very interesting stuff.”

“I’ll say,” Hoseok lifted a finger to tap on the mason jar filled with green liquid.

“What are you supposed to be?” You asked rather suddenly, turning your attention to Jungkook.

“Me?” Jungkook asked, looking down at himself, “I’m Dumbledore.”

He thought the long white beard, oversized robe and elder wand made that abundantly clear. You looked him up and down, “Hm.”

Hoseok couldn’t help but release a chuckle at the way you very clearly judged his friend’s choice of costume, “Yeah, I told him he would pull no bitches dressed like th—“

“Hobi,” Jungkook cut him off, motioning toward you with his head at the way your eye seemed to twitch with what he said. He tried to think of something to say but you were no longer interested when your cat came with the top of a phone case in his mouth. He set it down on the counter, letting his tail curl around your arm before leaving with a purr.

When you unlocked your phone, Jungkook thanked you and quickly tried to call a tow truck only to be told there were none open now. Hoseok couldn’t hide the fact that he was tired and found himself lying comfortably in a dark green daybed surrounded by books, leaving his friend to deal with all the hard parts. You didn’t say or rush anything when he took your phone and instead chose to watch him pace back and forth dialing every number he knew.

“This place is cozy,” Hoseok admitted, “I could nap here.”

“Coal, does it all the time,” you said with a soft smile, both tuning out Jungkook who was getting more annoyed by the second.

“Hyung, please pick us up,” Jungkook said in the background, tired of the itchy long beard so he snatched it off.

“I might get a promotion this week, what’s something I can use to wish me luck?” Hoseok asked, looking around the shop.

“I can help you make a spell jar, grab a basket,” you said cheerily as the hockey player got up to do as told. Jungkook tapped on the glass counter, starting a staring contest with the black cat while you and Hoseok began to collect herbs.

“I’ll send you my location,” Jungkook told the person on the phone, “15 minutes? We can wait here.”

“What does cinnamon do?” Hoseok asked, drawing Jungkook’s attention toward him.

“Alright, thanks Joon.” Jungkook hung up the phone, “Namjoon is coming for us. What are you guys doing?”

“Have you ever done a palm reading?” You asked Hoseok, ignoring Jungkook.

“No, but I’m down to try.”

“Sorry for keeping you up,” Jungkook said with a tired sigh as he looked at you hoping for a bit of acknowledgment on your part but you were currently helping Hoseok seal a mason jar with green candle wax.

Look…

Just listen…

Jungkook doesn’t think he has a type. He’s been with every type of girl possible since he started college but he’s never spoken to anyone like you. It’s not even just the way you’re dressed or the way you speak to your car but it’s also the store you worked at—or owned[?]. You’ve got his best friend making a good luck spell in the middle of the night and yet all Jungkook could think about is how cute you were.

Your skirt was fitted and it hugged your waist perfectly, exposing your torso and the way your shawl hung around your elbows instead of your shoulders was hot. You had these eyes that drew him in too, maybe it was your smudged dark makeup that made them stand out or the way you didn’t shy from staring into his eyes but he found it hard to look away.

“It’s a full moon tonight,” you said to him, “I was going to stay up anyway. I’ve already set up water to charge overnight.”

His brows furrowed, “Well, thanks anyway. What’s your name?”

“Y/n.”

“I’m Hoseok but you can call me Hobi,” Hoseok said with a confident smile, “This great wizard is Jungkook.”

“Dumbledore,” you said questioningly, “You took off your beard.”

“It was itchy,” Jungkook cleared his throat awkwardly.

You looked behind him, “Coal doesn’t seem to think so.”

Jungkook followed your stare, finding the black cat suddenly wearing the long white beard. Hoseok laughed, “Not you putting the beard on the cat, Kook.”

“I didn’t,” Jungkook scratched the back of his head, “Did I?”

You brushed past him, a soft scent of lavender incense overwhelmed him in a pleasant way and he couldn’t help but watch you in awe. There was just something about you… or maybe he’s had a long night and is imagining it.

“Joon is here.”

He can’t explain what it is but he can’t stop looking at you. Every move you made had his attention no matter how small and for a moment he forgot who else was around.

“Jungkook,” Hoseok snapped his fingers in front of his face, pointing out the window at the car parked outside, “Namjoon is here.”

“Oh, right,” Jungkook shook his head to snap out of the small trance he had been in, “Um, thank you Y/n, for letting us in.”

“No worries, Dumbledore, it made for an interesting night,” you held your cat in your arms now, forcing it to wave its paw goodbye, “And I do hope you tell me if the spell worked, Hobi.”

The two wanderers left the small shop of wonders and got in their friend’s car without further question, ending their night on a strange note that left one of them with curiosity.

The shop was home to you. It is where you felt most comfortable and it was passed down to you from a young age. It was a responsibility to help everyone who walked in, even if they asked for questionable things, you had to be there for them.

That’s why when a woman came in with tears down her face and a bundle of cash, you couldn’t just turn her away. Today your friend was working with you and he excelled in this sort of magic better than you did so you let him take the reel. He never seemed to mind intervening in the love lives of others and the shop was a safe space for men who’ve just been robbed and women who’ve been wronged.

“He’s a cheater,” she cried, “He lied to me a-and he thinks I’m just dumb. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not,” your friend said with a small smile, “Men like that can’t just walk around without any repercussions.”

“Jimin,” you warned him softly, watching the way he seemed to get the woman hyped on the thought of getting back at her husband. This is where he specialized, any sort of love magic no matter how bad, he loved it. You weren’t like him, you believed too much in karma to involve yourself in bad situations but you were never able to talk him out of it and it made the customer happy.

“Hush, Y/n, a simple hex never hurt anyone,” Jimin said, practically kicking his feet with glee, “Would that make you feel better, honey?”

The woman nodded her head, completely hypnotized by your best friend he disappeared behind another curtain toward the greenhouse. You waited behind idly, unsure what to do or say when a delivery driver pulled up in front of the building. Coal had flipped the sign to ‘CLOSED’ while Jimin performed his magic and the driver got out of his car holding a bouquet of flowers and a small box.

“Trust me, after this he won’t ever be able to please another woman again,” Jimin told her as he cut into a rotten eggplant.

You left the two quietly, making your way to the front door and ignoring the instructions Jimin gave the woman as she began to repeat the small chant he said.

You opened the shop door, stepping out, “Are you looking for someone?”

“Um… is this Scarlet&Sage? I’m looking for a Y/n.”

“That’s me,” you told him with furrowed brows, eyes widening as he practically shoved the bouquet of flowers into your hands and the gift box, asking you to sign before leaving. It took you a moment to process what happened before you headed back inside, just in time to watch Jimin finish the hex by helping the woman sew up the cut eggplant with candle wax and twine.

“You’ll want to leave this somewhere he can’t find it,” Jimin told her but you left before you could hear anything else.

You carried your things to the back room which was really just an extended shed of herbs and dried plants, Coal following close behind with curiosity as you opened up the small envelope inside.

‘Thank you for helping two strangers out so late in the night :) hopefully we’ll cross paths again

— Jeon Jungkook, Dumbledore’

The letter made you smile, a small blush forming on your cheeks when you pulled the lid off the box and gasped. Inside were two things, the first being a black hair clip with a pretty design on it and the second was a cat toy—Halloween themed. There was a sticky note on the plush skeleton fish that said, ‘For Cole’ on it that had you both sighing in disbelief.

Coal scratched at the note until it fell away from his new toy and ran away with it, surely to sulk at the misspelling of his name and pretend like he didn’t like the gift.

“Who’s the admirer?”

A light yell left your lips, nearly dropping the box as Jimin appeared at the doorway, “What admirer?”

“This one,” Jimin took the bouquet, examining it quickly with pursed lips, “Do tell me, Y/n, I am dying for the smallest sign of human interaction you might receive. I feel like you’ve become a recluse.”

“I have not,” you argued, letting him cut the tips of the stems, summoning over a vase with a wave of his hand that had it sliding across the wooden countertop to where he was, “I just… I do not have the time.”

“For?” Jimin asked setting the flowers up beautifully for you, “Oh whatever, just tell me who the flowers are from.”

“Nobody important,” you said almost shyly as your friend led the way back into the shop, ducking his head under twinkly lights and waving a finger to flip the sign back to ‘OPEN’, “The other night two men came in. They needed a phone and I let them use mine, that’s all.”

“Were they attractive?” Jimin asked with a raised brow, his instincts tingling at the hint of romance. Fleetwood Mac’s Dreams played in the background filling in the silence you left behind as you stopped to think about it.

The other night you met a dead hockey player and Dumbledore. Jungkook had been covered completely by old rags until the end when he took off the beard and even then the poor night lighting didn’t do well to make him attractive.

Still, part of you knew the two men would be considered popular just based on their looks.

“I think so,” you told him honestly, “It was hard to know, they were dressed up for a costume party.”

“You should have asked for their number,” Jimin said humorously, “Maybe then this god awful dryspell of yours would end.”

You rolled your eyes at his play on words before welcoming in a group of girls headed toward the crystals, “It’s not a dryspell and we both know it.”

“Oh, right,” Jimin rolled his eyes, “The curse. You give it too much power, sure there have been accidents in the past but those were all mere coincidence!”

“I’m sorry, but my first boyfriend losing a finger just a week after he fingered me for the first time doesn’t sound coincidental,” you half whispered and half shouted.

“It was a bowling accident!” Jimin laughed loudly.

“And what about the guy next door who used to help me water my plants before his house caught on fire?” You asked with a tilt of your hand that had him shrugging.

“Maybe he should’ve worried about the dry air in his own home before coming to yours,” Jimin joked.

“I’m serious, Jimin. Anyone who shows even the slightest interest in me gets hurt, and I mean literally not figuratively,” you said.

It was not a secret and your best friend knew it. Everyone who practiced the craft around here knew of the curse bestowed upon your family.

A curse on any man that dared love any woman in your family—you’ve seen it happen before and you’re not interested in hurting someone because of a centuries old curse you were born with.

Jimin had nothing to say now as he looked at the flowers with such curiosity he could practically picture the man who sent them.

Jeon Jungkook was special and everyone around him knew it. From his looks to his personality, there was not a single person unable to be charmed by him. It was a gift, really, just one smile or one look and he could practically get whatever he wants.

Of course, that’s not always a good thing, and that’s why he takes full blame for what happened last weekend. If he had known the girl who flirted with him had a boyfriend… he would have never hooked up with her in the bathroom. If they never hooked up then his things wouldn’t have been stolen and his tire wouldn’t have been slashed.

Sometimes he forgets that his actions have consequences and that night he learned how much of an asshole he really is to kiss a taken woman. The only good thing that came from it was the strange visit to an even stranger shop with an owner who blew his mind away.

He was beginning to think there’s something wrong with him. Why can’t he stop thinking about you? At first he thought it was out of guilt for bothering you that late so he had flowers delivered as a thank you but you still haven’t left his head. He’s nearly forgotten what you look like and he doesn’t like that.

“I can’t believe I got the promotion,” Hoseok said with a smirk as he plopped down on the chair next to Jungkook’s.

“You worked hard for it,” Jungkook reminded him.

“What if that little jar really did help?” Hoseok asked curiously, making Jungkook laugh suddenly and his brows furrowed, “I’m serious, Kook. I really thought they were gonna give it to the other guy.”

“Hobi, you worked your ass off for it,” Jungkook told him honestly, “Some stupid jar of cloves and cinnamon didn’t do it.”

That made his friend roll his eyes, “Whatever, I’m still stopping by the shop to offer my thanks—“

“You’re going back?” Jungkook asked, a look of interest in his eyes, an idea running rampant in his head at the thought.

There was a sudden urge to see you again running through his veins.

The shop felt surprisingly cozier during the day and it smelled of pomegranate and basil. A few customers shopped around, unable to help themselves from watching the two attractive men look every bit out of place as they felt while a man helped behind the counter.

Jimin popped his head over a jar of worms, eyes widening as he practically ran up the spiral steps in search of you. Your eyes were closed as you imagined a white light running over your body eliminating any piece of bad energy in sight. A set of silver headphones played lulling sounds of nature and the flicker of white candles helped lighten the dark room as you attempted to do your midday meditation. You sat with your legs crossed neatly and your floral skirt touched the ground even when your body floated in the air in concentration.

“Y/n!”

You’ve become one with your surroundings, you felt the energy coursing through you with each deep inhale and exhale you let out and your body became weightless, unable to think of anything but absolute clarity.

“Y/n!”

The sudden yank on your headphones caused you to snap out of the trance, falling to the ground with a hard thud that had you hissing in pain, “Ow!”

“He’s here!” Jimin said, snapping the candles off while helping you untangle your headphones.

“Who?” You asked, wrapping your loose cardigan tighter around your torso.

“The one who delivered the flowers,” Jimin said urgently as he took your hand in his and practically rushed you downstairs. You didn’t even get a chance to put your shoes back on and you had to hold the end of your matcha green skirt up to keep from dragging across the floorboards.

“How do you kno—“

“Instincts,” Jimin said, wiggling his nose, “I can just tell.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at him as you joined him downstairs, not fully believing he knew who he was talking about until you saw it with your own eyes. Hoseok was much more familiar to you than the other considering his costume still looked like him but Jungkook was the one who caught your attention. He ditched the gray robes for black jeans and a white shirt under a black and white leather jacket. His hair was sleek and he had facial piercings you didn’t remember seeing last time but he looked good…

“Y/n! I got the promotion!” Hoseok said cheerfully, taking your focus for himself. You smiled sweetly, “Really? That’s wonderful.”

Jungkook found himself speechless when he saw you appearing from behind the celestial tapestry. He can’t explain it but you looked utterly beautiful. The crystal suncatcher he had seen the other night proved its purpose today by reflecting a soft rainbow on your complexion and he found it hypnotizing.

“Did you receive my flowers?” He found himself asking, damn near stuttering. Today you wore a matcha green floral skirt and a cream colored cardigan matched with some crystals around your neck. It didn’t sneak past him the fact that you were barefoot but it seemed to fit you either way.

“I did, they smelled wonderful,” you said joyously, “But…”

His lips parted with worry, ready to ask what happened when a deep meow took his attention. Your black cat curled around your skirt practically begging to be picked up and you did just that, cuddling the feline against your chest, “Coal is a bit bothered by the gift.”

Jungkook was left confused, watching the cat who seemed to be glaring at him, “Cole is?”

“Yeah, you see, you spelled his name wrong,” you said with a sigh, “His name is coal like the carbonized rock, not a man’s name.”

“Oh?” Jungkook tilted his head, “Oh. Coal, black as coal?”

“It’s because he’s a black cat,” Hoseok said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world to name your cat after a fire starter.

“Well, maybe he could appreciate the effort?” Jungkook asked, trying not to think of how ridiculous he sounded practically begging the feeling for forgiveness.

“He’s a bit of a grudge holder but maybe he’ll come around,” you said with a distressed sigh, staring off into the distance seeming like your mind was miles away. Hoseok had lost interest in the conversation as he began to skim through a book about runes while your coworker slash best friend pretended not to eavesdrop behind the counter. Jungkook watched you curiously as you focused on a group of teenage girls nosing through the incense sticks.

“Whatever you said to Hobi seemed to work the other day, he aced the interview,” Jungkook said, feeling the need to try and talk to you still. There’s just something about you.

Your entire essence felt whimsical and he wishes he could pinpoint what has his heart beating so fast but he can’t.

“It was the spell,” you told him with a smile, letting it fade when he scoffed in disbelief.

“No, seriously.”

“I am being serious,” your eyes narrowed, “We put a lot of effort into it.”

Jungkook would love to argue about magic and spells not being real but it was very clear this was not the place to do it—especially not when he can hear the guy behind the counter offer a potion to someone. He seemed like a con artist and yet you worked with him, did that make you one too? When he looked at you, he could easily assume you were dressed up for Halloween, it was October and some people go all out for the month. That could be you…

Or you could be playing a part for the store, doing whatever you could to get the sales going even if it meant packaging herbs in mason jars and calling it a spell.

The look you were giving him made it obvious that you were beginning to question his intentions too and he felt the need to backtrack even if his instincts were telling him not to, “Well uh, whatever you um… did worked.”

You flashed him a pretty smile, already losing interest in him as you turned around to see who was in the store. He couldn’t help but try and follow after you in hopes of keeping your attention on him but when he took a step, he nearly tripped and had to grab you for support. The two of you looked down, a small laugh bubbling in your throat, “Coal! You do not play tricks on people just because you’re mad.”

The cat meowed in response as you suddenly dropped to your knees before him, his heart racing at the action until you began to untie his shoelaces which had been knotted together so he would trip when he took a step. Jungkook laughed nervously, “I don’t remember doing that.”

“It was Coal,” you said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “If anyone knows how to hold a grudge it’s that cat. Coal, say sorry.”

As if the cat understood what you said, he meowed as he ran off, making sure to hit Jungkook’s leg with his tail. He shook his head in disbelief at the way Coal responded so human-like, wondering if his dog acted this way too at times but he didn’t. Bam was always sweet and energetic, not a grudge holder or trickster like the feline. With a sigh he tried moving on, looking around for you only for you to be going behind a curtain toward a greenhouse. Jungkook didn’t hesitate to follow you, not caring about the sign that said no customers and searching for you.

“So, Y/n, I was wondering if you were busy tomorrow,” Jungkook said suddenly, “I was thinking we can get dinner as a thank you for the other night.”

“Oh,” you came to a stop, staring at a basket of molasses and shook your head, “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Jungkook was left speechless, unsure what to say as you once again seemed to disappear before his very own eyes, leaving him to look around confused and alone. He had no choice but to head back to the main store where he found you tying a string around Hoseok’s wrist. How did you move so quickly?

You mumbled something to his friend that he couldn’t quite hear and he’ll admit it made him a bit jealous. It’s not that he had strong feelings for you but here he is fighting plowing after that y only for you to wander off away from him. Was something wrong with him? Were you more interested in Hoseok? Jungkook had never struggled to keep a girl’s attention and yet it feels like your mind is everywhere else but him. Sure, you might be different from his usual type but did that mean he was different from yours? What kind of guy is your type anyway?

Someone with glasses who likes astrology?

“Jungkook,” you called for him rather softly and yet he went to you as if on command. You held up a string necklace with some sort of rock or marble on it and he didn’t hesitate to lean down so you could put it on him. It was a blue marble with a white circle and a black dot inside the circle.

“What is this?” He asked, swallowing dryly when your hands brushed against his neck.

“It has many names depending on where you’re from but, it’s an evil eye. It helps protect you from misfortune and anyone who wishes ill intent toward you,” you told him, making sure the bead sat perfectly between his collarbone, “I figured after the night you got your things stolen, it was better to stay protected.”

“Is there anything that would protect me against him, Y/n?” Hoseok joked, joining the two of you now, “If anyone brings me bad luck it’s Jungkook considering he’s the reason everyone’s always out to get us.”

He turned to Hoseok ready to tell him to shut up but his friend always struggled to read the room. Hoseok just laughed like he was telling the funniest joke, “Don’t look at me like that, it’s true. Who’s the one who made out with a girl who’s already taken?”

“I didn’t know,” Jungkook said and despite it being the truth, everyone looked at him differently now.

“So you’re one of those guys,” the man behind the counter said with a mischievous smirk that had Jungkook turning around to look at him. “One of what guys?”

“The ones I hex—“

“So!” You cut Jimin off suddenly, standing directly in front of Jungkook now, chest nearly touching his that his breath caught in his throat, “What are your plans for the night? Are we taking too much of your time? I’m sure it was a long drive out.”

“Is this a subtle way of saying it’s about time we leave?” Jungkook asked with an amused smile, a bit taken back by how flustered you seem to be. There was something charming about you, a complete stranger, and it keeps drawing him in. He finds you physically attractive in a way he’s never found anyone like before. He thinks you dress differently, you present yourself differently, you remind him of a fairy or some mythological creature—just enchanting… and it makes him feel ridiculous.

Why does he feel this way toward you?

“I—That’s not h-how I meant it,” you shook your head, blush running through your cheeks, “I just assumed you probably had more important things to do.”

“And what if I said this was the important thing for today?” He asked with a tilt of his head, not caring much for his friend who was busy looking at all the crystals or the guy behind the counter who pretended not to listen, “Talking to you.”

This time around he raised a smile from you, “It would be flattering, but I know it’s not.”

He smiled, “What if it was?”

You didn’t hesitate to look into his eyes despite the way he seemed to close the distance between you like you were the only two in the shop, “It’s not.”

“Why don’t you think so?” He asked, attempting to rest his arm on the counter only for him to hit Coal instead, awkwardly jumping back and watching you smile with amusement.

“Because it would be so sad to hold a mere occurrence with me, a complete stranger, with such high importance.” The tone you said it in sounded cute, like you were genuinely pitying him for living such a boring life even if that wasn’t the case.

It took Jungkook a second to process your response and he couldn’t go any further. It was very clear you didn’t want him around anymore and you already rejected his proposal to go out. He did not want to seem like a pushy person and he has to just accept that you’re simply not interested. Does it make sense to him? No. He’s a catch, every girl tends to want him—but he won’t push any further.

He swears.

“I guess we’ll get going then and let you get back to work,” Jungkook couldn’t help but look back down at your patterned skirt or pretty neck adorned with handmade jewelry, “Maybe next time I’ll buy something.”

“Next time?” You asked as he grabbed the back of Hoseok’s shirt, dragging him behind toward the front door. Jungkook smirked, “Yeah! I mean… this can’t possibly be the end, right?”

“Well, I didn’t think anything here would pique your interest,” you said looking around at the dangling gold stars and the hanging tapestries stuck to the ceiling.

“On the contrary,” he practically mimicked your form of speech as he shoved Hobi out the door, “My interest has been piqued. I’ll see you around?”

You wrapped your cardigan around yourself more snugly, feet finally growing cold under the flooring and appearing more flustered, “I guess so.”

He smiled, waving goodbye as he fought off Hoseok who nearly jumped over him to bid his own farewell.

“Oh, he’s smitten,” Jimin laughed the second the door shut with the chime of the bell above it. It made you roll your eyes almost instantly, “He’ll get over it. He seems like a flirt.”

“Mhm, and he’s flirting with you,” Jimin said, watching you with amusement, “Whatever shall you do?”

“What I always do,” you told him matter-of-factly, “Ignore.”

Jimin looked down at the book of moon magic before him, pretending to skim through it, “Like you always do? And how’s that working out for your love life.”

“Listen to yourself, you love witch,” you said with a groan, lifting a finger to slide the book away from him without touching it, “He’s a stranger.”

“Don’t they always start out that way?” Invincible hands opened the book for him as it slid across the counter till it was directly in front of him again and he resumed to read.

Jimin shrugged, “I’m just saying. It wouldn’t kill you to open up to someone.”

“It would probably kill them.”

“Yeah, but there are plenty of fish in the sea and way too many men in the world.”

The sky was a shade between blue and gray, and every now and then he could feel a rare drop of water fall on him as it threatened to sprinkle. The autumn leaves crunched under his thick shoes as he crossed the lawn of the courtyard on his way to his next class—running behind only a little.

You would think being in his last semester of schooling would make him have his shit together but it really only seems to make his life a bigger mess than before. It’s like it hasn’t clicked in his mind yet how close he is to the end and he still wants to spend his weekends getting drunk at parties and showing up to Monday morning lectures way too late.

“Jungkook!”

To be honest, he doesn’t ever want to admit it but his life is a hot mess. He’s all over the place—all the time. He gets into bad situations with girls and he does awful in school. He’s not that great at work and he struggles to focus on anything but he doesn’t know what to do.

The night of the party was a bit of a wake up call to him. Obviously he hadn’t changed yet but… he got his shit stolen and his car broke down in the same night. That’s enough drama to get a man thinking about his life choices. He needs to make changes but he doesn’t know how. How does he give up the parties and the drinking so he could take things more seriously?

“Jungkook!”

“Huh?” He slipped an AirPod out of his ear as he turned around in search of who called for him. About a foot or so away from him stood a girl, short blonde hair, painted red lips and Chanel jewelry on. She was the sort of attractive that anyone walking past might turn and stare but he just seemed to tilt his head with curiosity.

“We met at the club a few weeks ago, remember?” She asked, looking up at him with flirty eyes, “You bought me a drink?”

“I did?” Jungkook asked, letting his eyes trail down her head to her body and so on, “What’s up?”

“Oh, uh, I was wondering if you were busy today? I’ve seen you around campus and I still owe you for the drink so how about some coffee?” She asked running her fingers through her hair.

“I’m good but thanks,” Jungkook said, already attempting to walk away. He’s late for his lecture and he’s sure the professor won’t bother opening the door for him so he’s better off going to the library until his next class. He’s got two more lectures and then he’ll work tonight so there’s no time to go out with a girl he doesn’t even remember the name of.

“Wait! I just… yknow. I just want to say thank you for the drink,” she follows after him, “One cup won’t hurt anyone, right?”

He looked back down at her with a sigh. She really was cute and his usual type but he’s not interested. Sure he has about two hours before his next lecture but does he really want to waste that time on some girl he met while drunk [that he most likely only approached because he wanted to hook up with her?].

“Alright, can I pick the place?” Jungkook asked suddenly, watching the girls eyes widen happily as she eagerly nodded her head.

Jungkook had no idea why he agreed or where he even planned on taking her, he just knew it was a bit far but familiar—to him, at least.

He didn’t give her much room to come up with anything either before they were catching a bus to the other side of town where the buildings looked older and more fit for the fall season with the dead leaves and puddles in the dark pavement. Scarlet&Sage looked surprisingly busy today with customers going in and out without stop.

He only knew this because the coffee shop he was currently at was right across the street from it. Please do not ask him how this came about… he’s not sure. He just remembers seeing the cafè the last time he came over here and when the blonde girl asked for coffee it was the first place that came to mind. It had absolutely nothing to do with the whimsical character he’s encountered in the small shop of wonders.

“So, do you like the coffee here?” The blonde asked as they sat at a small round table near the large window that gave him the perfect view of the outside.

“It’s alright,” Jungkook mumbled, looking down at his cup wondering what you might be doing.

It’s not that he was weirdly obsessed or anything. He was just mildly interested.

Mildly.

His attention should be on the blonde but he couldn’t even remember her name and he was too embarrassed to ask. He talks to a lot of girls like her… he’s hooked up with a lot of girls like her and sometimes they all start to blend and he just can’t pick them apart. As stated, the blonde is hot, he’s not going to deny that and clearly he had approached her at some club for that reason but right now she just seems so bland.

It’s become a bit of a problem of his and he’s beginning to notice it. Jungkook did not consider himself a player by any means but he would be lying if he said he didn’t date a lot of girls. That’s why right now that he’s with some random girl who invited him to coffee, he couldn’t really think of her. He only agreed as an excuse to come to this side of town in hopes of stopping by the shop but now he’s stuck here with a stranger while you’re across the street doing who knows what.

The shop had been busy at open but once the rush had gone, things had visibly slowed down for the two witches. Jimin was bored to death, arguing with Coal over the dumbest of things and you tried busying yourself with useless flicks of your finger to turn on and off all the candles on the counter. Crystals by Stevie Nicks played from a small boombox tucked into a bookshelf and the cold autumn day dragged by too slow for your liking.

It’s not that you expect an exciting day on the regular but ever since you met those two strangers one October night, you couldn’t help but wonder if you would have more occurrences like that. When Jungkook sent the gift and flowers it was a nice surprise that brightened your day and when he and Hoseok popped in a few days later… well that also brought a sense of warmth. It couldn’t possibly be because you were interested in seeing Jungkook again despite how obviously handsome he was.

You do not allow yourself to fall in love or even gain a small crush toward anyone when you know the repercussions. Jimin could mock you for it all he wants but the curse has proven to be true time and time in your line of witches and you do not want anyone to fall victim to it because you foolishly allowed yourself to like someone.

Sure, deep down you’re a romantic but aren’t most people? Don’t most people wish to meet that one person that makes their heart race or their smile widen? Someone they find comfort in without even realizing it at first but once you do you don’t ever want to leave their arms? Isn’t that what everyone wishes even when they don’t know it? Even the most anti-romantic individual must at some point crave the intimacy that comes with finding the one they love.

It’s inevitable to feel this way but you can’t act upon any feelings you might have toward someone—you shouldn’t, and therefore you remain single despite something inside you wishing to change that. It’s for the best, honestly and maybe if you wish strong enough… you’ll never have to see Jungkook again because despite not knowing him at all… you can’t help but think about him.

“Y/n, I have a favor to ask,” Jimin said with a sigh as he joined you at the counter, “And there was nobody else I could think to ask this of aside from my most beautiful celestially whimsical best friend.”

The corners of your lips curved upward, rolling your eyes playfully as you waited for him to go on and just say it. His eyes met yours and with an adorable pout he asked, “Do you mind running to the post office for me? I’ve got a palm reading appointment in ten.”

“Oh, I suppose I could make a quick run,” you told him with a dramatic sigh, fighting back a smile when he squeezed your face in his hands. “I absolutely adore you, you beautiful witch.”

Jimin left to retrieve two white envelopes he needed you to drop off and you took them happily, heading to the door when you turned back to look at him, “Remind how amazing I am for doing the smallest of tasks for you.”

“Undeniably amazing.”

The coffee at the cafe was not memorable at all, in fact, Jungkook doesn’t know if he would ever come back again but deep down he knows he will, even if it’s just an excuse to stare at Scarlet&Sage. He’s ashamed to admit he couldn’t even pretend to act interested in what the blonde said and at some point she must’ve realized that because they sat together in silence. Her eyes wandered around the cafe while his focused on the brick storefront of your shop, wondering if he should stop by and say hello or not.

When the door seemed to open from the inside, he could physically feel his heart race and soon enough… you were there standing in a dark blue velvet slip dress with brown leather boots and golden star clips in your hair, shivering slightly with the cold and he acted before he could think.

“I’ll be right back,” Jungkook said abruptly, raising to his feet, not bothering to even look back at the blonde when she called his name and left the shop with all his things.

“Y/n!”

You read the sending addresses on the envelopes, smiling when you realized Jimin was sending this to a good friend of yours. At first, you didn’t hear the call of your name. If anything made you stop, it was the sudden howl of wind that had a stream of fallen leaves circling around you, following the sight of them until you turned back to find the one person you had been thinking about standing there before you.

“Jungkook?” You couldn’t hide the look of pleasant surprise on your face as you gave him a moment to catch up to you, “Did you trim your hair?”

That made him pause for a moment as he ran his fingers through the short black hair, shy smile on his face, “I did. Does it look bad?”

He didn’t ask where you were going when he began to walk alongside you. You shook your head, “I like it. It suits you, but I’m sure everything does, Dumbledore.”

“Will you ever let that go?” He asked slightly embarrassed by the worst night of his life and how strangely it was the reason the two of you met.

“Oh, of course,” you said, unable to catch the playful tone in his voice, “I’m sorry.”

“No, I didn—you didn—I just meant…” Jungkook cleared his throat awkwardly, “Um… so what are you doing?”

“I’m running an errand for Jimin,” you told him casually, turning the corner of the block with him at your side, “And what about you?”

“I wanted to try the coffee place across the street from you. I missed a class today and had time so…” Jungkook bit his lip wondering what more to say.

“The coffee is not good,” you said and he smiled. “It isn’t.”

“So… Y/n, I know last time you said it wasn’t a good idea but… I don’t know, I was wondering if maybe we could still try and get dinner. I don’t mean to push bu—“

“Why?” You asked suddenly, big sparkly eyes staring at him that he felt his breath hitch when the two of you stopped in front of the post office. He had to blink away the shock a few times before he was able to snap back into reality. Jungkook reached for the door, hearing the sound of bells above as he let you brush past him and head inside.

Why? What did you mean why? Did you find it strange that he wanted to go out with you? Did you think he had no valid reason to seek you out? Did he?

You left his side to drop the envelopes down the shoot before returning to him with a soft hum, singing some indie song in your head, thanking him when he held the door open for you again.

“I wish I could give you a million reasons as to why but I can’t,” Jungkook told you honestly, watching the way you seemed to shiver in the cold again. You forgot a cardigan or shawl and were sincerely regretting it now. He didn’t hesitate to take off his crewneck, offering it to you despite the cold biting his skin now and he finished his thoughts, “I only have one, Y/n and I think it’s fairly simple. I want to get to know you because I find you beautiful and interesting and you make me curious.”

“A lot of people are beautiful and interesting,” you tried to brush him off despite the sudden warmth running through your veins as you became overwhelmed by the lingering scent of his cologne on the sweater.

“But not like you,” he said and he surprised himself. When has he ever called someone beautiful and mean it? Another rustle of wind carried dead leaves in the air, this time circling around the two of you and you couldn’t help but watch one get caught in his hair.

“I don’t get you,” you admitted, walking a bit faster toward the shop now, “We’re practically strangers still and I’ve said no once so… yknow… I mean… wouldn’t you have other girls to try? Probably prettier ones and more outgoing so really there’s no need to try and go out with me when I’m sure you have better options out there with people you’re much closer to.”

Jungkook scoffed, a small smirk on his face, “I didn't think there was anything to get. I… well… yes, I do know others who I could ask but I’m not interested in any of them, only you.”

Was it that obvious that he had become a bit of a player? A romantic who jumped into relationships or flings for the adrenaline they brought? Could you read that on his face? With the way you turned to look into his eyes, he wondered if that really was the case.

You shouldn’t involve yourself with him.

It’ll only complicate things.

He seems to be a flirt, he could get anyone he wants so why is he stuck on you?

You’re already a bit interested in him too and that’s dangerous but when you look at his neck and see the necklace you gave him, you felt happy—not good.

“I’m a witch.”

Jungkook chuckled suddenly, unable to tell if you were trying to change the mood or scare him off, “Good thing it’s October and it’s the Season of the Witch.”

He doesn’t believe you, obviously—or well, not to the extent that you mean. It’s not a secret you like the craft but he doesn’t expect you to have a flying broomstick lying around.

“It’s the truth, Jungkook,” you told him as you neared the shop, “And that means I’m not good for you.”

“Why? Because you have a black cat and love crystals?” Jungkook joked lightheartedly.

“No. Because I have a curse to those who like me and it could really put them in danger,” you said and for a second he seemed to falter… genuinely wondering if you were being serious or not. He doesn’t believe in magic or curses like you’ve convinced Hobi to but it was an odd thing to say… maybe.

Maybe it wasn’t odd at all considering your lifestyle choice but…

But…

No.

You can’t just suddenly tell him that and expect him to believe it. It’s one thing to be fascinated by it all and open a store about it and actually—

Magic isn’t real.

Curses aren’t real.

“So you reject me because of a curse?” He asked, studying you closely to see how he would react. You didn’t reject him because you were uninterested, but because you believe you’re cursed? He knew you were a bit odd when he first met you but to this extent? And to know it hadn’t scared him back to the blonde who was surely already visiting Jimin to hex him. “And not because you want nothing to do with me?”

You bit your lip, “It’s complicated.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he said, “Y/n, curses only have power if you believe in them and I don’t.”

Your eyes widened, unsure if you should be offended by his utter blindness to the magical or amazed by his clear mindset. What were you going on about? Did you expect him to run away when you said? Had you hoped he would? Would that have made it easier to not think about him? Maybe he just doesn’t fully believe you yet. Magic is a hard thing for everyone to accept.

People don’t want to believe what they can’t see.

“I should head inside now,” you told him quietly and you could visibly see the way he dejected, with his shoulders drooping, “And there’s something sticking out of your pocket.”

Jungkook barely had a second to process what you said before you were leaving him alone outside with his eyebrows furrowed as he felt around his black jeans with confusion.

His gaze softened with curiosity as he pulled out a piece of folded parchment paper from his pocket and opened it hurriedly.

‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you but here’s my number. xxx-xxx-xxxx — Y/n ☽’

Despite the utter confusion he felt on how you managed to put this note in his pocket, he felt more happy to know you’re opening yourself to him. He could worry about the strangeness of this later when it doesn’t feel like he’s on cloud 9 from simply getting a girls number.

“Jungkook!”

He bit the insides of his cheeks to hide a growing smile as he stuffed the paper back in his pocket, looking up with surprise as the blonde came up to him, “What happened? You suddenly left with some weirdo an—“

“I’m not interested,” Jungkook rushed out, “I’m so sorry, I seriously am but I can’t even remember your name and I’ve been too embarrassed to ask. You seem very nice and I’m sure I would’ve loved to get to know you but… but I want to pursue something with someone else. She’s a witch, apparently, which I find it hard to believe but she’s given me this note and I have no idea when she managed to give it to me without me knowing but it’s all so interesting and I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before over something so sm—“

“Asshole,” the girl gave him a small shove, cutting off his rant and stormed away from him. He watched her go with a bit of pity because she was right. He was an asshole… for taking her invitation and using it to meet you. For leading other girls on and leaving them when he was bored. For wasting their time and he swears he does feel awful now.

He wants to be different and he’s wondering if his racing heart for you would be the start.

Even with the shove the blonde had given him, he couldn’t help but smile and pull out the paper again to read over the note as many times as necessary just to remember today.

And so it began despite the countless amount of times you told yourself not to fall for anyone. It was hard when he was texting you as often as he could.

jungkook: I still want to kno how u got the note in my pocket

y/n: with magic, silly

jungkook: like a magician’s?

y/n: no :/

y/n: like a witch’s.

jungkook: …

jungkook: why are u so cute

y/n: glamour magic?

“Who’s got you smiling like that?” Jungkook’s friend asked one day as they met up at the campus library. He looked up at Taehyung who sat down across from him on some comfortable lounge chairs, already getting his laptop out.

“Her name’s Y/n,” Jungkook sat up, “She’s a bit strange and unusual—but in a good way!”

Taehyung’s brows furrowed, “Cool, I guess. Anyway, are you coming this weekend?”

“Where to?” He asked, biting his lip as he thought of what to say back.

jungkook: or maybe that’s just how u are

y/n: maybe ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა but I’m dangerous

“Joon’s Halloween party,” Taehyung said, watching his friend smile before quickly typing.

jungkook: right…

jungkook: bc of the curse?

y/n: yeah

jungkook: nothing has happened to me yet

“Who?” Jungkook asked absentmindedly as he looked up for a mere second.

“Who?! Boy, don’t play with me. Namjoon. Kim Namjoon, big meaty buff Namjoon, our friend?” Taehyung scoffed with a laugh. Jungkook chuckled, “Oh right. Um… maybe.”

y/n: that’s bc we haven’t gone out

jungkook: so let’s change that and test the theory

jungkook: what r u doing tonight?

“I’ve invited some girls to meet us there, super hot, trust me you’ll like em,” Taehyung said despite how obvious Jungkook’s interest in you seemed. He had literally just brought you up and yet Taehyung didn’t seem to think that was going to stop Jungkook from wanting to meet other girls.

“Yeah…” Jungkook cleared his throat awkwardly, leg bouncing anxiously as he waited for you to answer, “I’m not really interested.”

Taehyung audibly laughed, not believing his friend as he opened his laptop to do some work. Jungkook narrowed his eyes at him, “I’m serious. I’m talking to someone right now.”

“I mean… are you bringing her this weekend?” Taehyung asked, making Jungkook shrug his shoulders. “I’m not sure Y/n would want to go.”

y/n: it’s a full moon tonight

y/n: but I’m free

jungkook: want to go out for dinner?

y/n: okay ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

The smile that grew on his face from your text nearly slipped when Taehyung spoke up, “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Come on man, it’s not like you’re dating anyone and if so when has that ever stopped you from a good time?”

“I’m not saying I won’t go, but I’m saying I don’t want to talk to any other girls, man,” Jungkook said with a sigh as he checked the time on his screen, “Alright, I’ve got to get ready.”

“Why? You don’t work till later, right?” Taehyung asked while watching his friend gather his things to leave. Jungkook nodded, “Yeah but I’ve got plans after so I have to get ready now. I’ll see you this weekend?”

Taehyung gave up on his friend and waved him off with a dismissed goodbye.

“A date?!” Jimin nearly yelled into your ear as the two of you watered the plants in the greenhouse, “You have a date tonight?!”

“No,” you shook your head, “It's not like that… Jungkook and I are just getting dinner.”

“As a date,” Jimin said with a roll of his eyes, “There’s no point denying it, Y/n. I will admit he’s not the type I thought you would go for but I support it fully if it means you’ll finally let someone in.”

“Why are you being so dramatic?” You asked, “I’m… I only agreed to dinner because he asked and I didn’t want to reject him again. Once he’s gotten. What he wants I’m sure he’ll move on to the next.”

“Y/n,” Jimin’s tone was stronger than usual, “I don’t believe that. Even if Jungkook seems to be the type… he can clearly tell there’s something about you that makes things worthwhile. Stop doubting it and just allow yourself to go out with someone.”

Just as you were about to try and brush this off with an excuse that you had to leave, Coal came prancing in holding the small skeleton fish Jungkook bought for him and set it before you to play.

When Jungkook arrived in front of the shop, he’s not sure what he expected. You looked as pretty as usual in a brown floral maxi dress and a thin lace cardigan and shimmer in your hair. You always looked pretty to him, natural and whimsical, ethereal. He’s not sure why he feels this way but he does and he likes the feeling.

“Hi,” Jungkook felt breathless as he held the car door open for you, unsure why he felt nervous at all. He’s been on hundreds of dinner dates, this was nothing new for him so why were his hands growing clammy?

“You’re nervous?” You asked, finger brushing against the front of his white shirt. A smile came to his face, “Maybe.”

“Why?” You asked even as your own heart raced with nerves.

“Honestly…” Jungkook bit his lip, waiting at your door, “I don’t know, you make me nervous.”

“Is that good or bad?” You asked.

“Good, I think,” Jungkook smiled as he shut the car door and rounded to his side.

He had no reason to be nervous, really, Jungkook was into you and he had a feeling you were into him too. Why else would you have agreed? Yes, you’re a bit strange and he still doesn’t understand what you mean by curse or how you got the note in his pocket but that doesn’t scare him. Why doesn’t that scare him?

Why did he suddenly feel like dinner wasn’t enough? He always had dinner dates. It was always his go-to first date idea.

You stared out the window as he started the car, completely unaware of his growing panic at the realization. You were more focused on the glowing moon than him and yet the silence in the car didn’t bother him. Usually, whoever he was with would talk his ear off but you were quiet right now. Were you growing bored of him before you gave him a chance to open himself up to you? Would you think the dinner reservation he set for tonight would be too cliché? You don’t seem like a 5-star restaurant date. You don’t seem like the type to care and yet he blindly set the date up in the same manner he did every other girl he went out with.

The thought alone was making him antsy and it was hard to miss the way his finger tapped against the steering wheel as he drove off.

“So, what restaurant are we going to?” You asked in a gentle voice, in hopes that maybe he wouldn’t seem so quiet. The question made him bite his lip, playing with his lip ring as his brows furrowed in thought, “I—um…”

His hands were clammy.

You blinked away your confusion, eyes dropping down to your lap as you asked, “Do you not want to do this anymore?”

“No! I mean… I—I want to but uh,” Jungkook stopped at a red light, “I um…”

How does he tell you what he had planned tonight was the same thing he always did whenever he went on a date with a random girl?

How does he tell you that’s not what he wants for you?

“It’s a full moon tonight?” Jungkook asked suddenly, staring out his tinted windshield. You merely nodded your head silently.

“Change of plans then,” he mumbled to himself, turning on his blinker and when the light turned green he took a completely different route from that of the restaurant. You wanted to question him, wondering if he was taking you back home but after a while the city lights grew fewer and fewer and the hills got bigger and bigger.

Jungkook drove a short distance out of the city where large meadows began to cover fields and fields of hills. He pulled the car to the side of the road and without question he got out, opening the trunk first and you grew worried.

“Is this the plot twist? You drive me out of the city to plan my murder?” You jokingly asked as you got out of the car and joined his side. He rummaged through paper bags pulling out water bottles and small snack bags he must’ve bought a while ago. He grabbed an old blanket he tossed back there after crashing at Namjoon’s place and asked you to walk with him.

“No, it’s just,” Jungkook took a deep breath, trudging through the thick grass in the dark night with only the full moon and stars eliminating his way, “I want to do things differently with you. I wanted to get dinner, yes, but… but it’s a full moon, Y/n. Do you really want to spend your night indoors where you can’t even see it?”

He thought back to the star clips in your hair that shimmered like the sparkles in your eyes. The way you seemed to love the spirituality of life and he didn’t even have to know you well enough to know how in tune you are with nature. One look at you told him everything he needed to know and despite the cold autumn night… he knew you preferred it over wherever he planned on taking you.

“I…” you bit your lip nervously, following after him into the clear meadow surrounded by hills and a single road where the car had been parked, “I’m sorry but I don’t understand.”

“Y/n,” Jungkook stopped to look at you, “I don't know how to explain it but you feel different to me. Since the first night we met, all I could think about was you and I don’t want to ruin the first chance you’ve given me to get to know you by doing the same thing I do every time. I want to do something that would be fun, maybe, different and more to your liking. I want to know why you brought up the moon tonight or why you talk about curses and glamours and why you enjoy the smell of incense. I want to know how the note got in my pocket and how you seem to communicate with Coal like you could truly understand him. The strangeness of it all fascinates me and sitting in a stuffy restaurant eating subpar food won’t tell me anything about you besides that you let me take you on a boring date.”

“You’re a bit strange,” you confessed, a smile growing on your face as small fireflies fill the meadow, “But I like it.”

Jungkook extended the blanket on the ground, throwing the things onto it before collapsing on his side waiting for you to join him. You sat down tucking your dress under your legs and moved to lay on your back, the sound of crickets somewhere off in the distance as you stared up at the sky.

Usually, Jungkook picked the noisiest of places possible so that he wouldn’t have to have his full attention on whoever he was dining with. If the conversation got boring he could always find somewhere else to focus before he would finally just invite him to his bed. Right now he’s got nowhere else to look aside from the night sky and you.

“Do you meditate?” You asked.

“No,” Jungkook said, turning on his back with an arm tucked under his head and the other on the blanket, “But I can try.”

“Okay, take even breaths and try to clear your mind,” you told him as you let your eyes close for a moment, “The full moon is a time to let go and welcome new energy in your life by reflecting on what you need to release.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything as he tried to listen to you, tried to visualize what he would like to let go. What did he need to reflect on?

Was it his grades? His shitty part time job at the convenience store? His past mistakes in relationships?

“Listen to the sounds around you, let them help you find inner peace,” you whispered with the wind catching his breath, small sounds of nature here and there, “Visualize your dreams, your reflections. Find your release.”

It’s his last semester of school and yet he misses class when he’s late. He agrees to go out with girls he has no real intention of getting to know and he puts himself in messy situations that drag his friends along too.

He’s tired of acting the same way he did when he was younger—never took responsibility and was always careless in his actions. Even the other when he went out with the blonde but not because he wanted her, but because he could use her as an excuse to himself to come seek you out. He disregarded her feelings.

When Taehyung approached him about the girls he wanted Jungkook to meet, he expect Jungkook to lie about seeing them even when he was interested in you because that’s what Jungkook usually did.

How does he change his ways?

Tonight he wants to release his toxic patterns.

He wants to embrace change and welcome the shift of energy you brought him. He wants to form deeper connections with those around him and open himself up to new possibilities, no matter how strange.

“Y/n,” Jungkook’s voice came out raspy as his hand felt around the blanket blindly until your fingers brushed against his and he was going to hold onto them, “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” You asked him, letting him hold your hand, ignoring the sudden tingle up your arm. His eyes opened, “How do you make me want to find comfort in you when you’re essentially still a stranger to me?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” you said.

“Tell me about the curse,” Jungkook couldn’t believe he was saying it. It was one thing to go along with the joke over text but now that he’s lying here with you, he’s curious.

“Really?” You asked looking at him, watching him nod his head making you sigh, “Why? You don’t believe in it anyway.”

“But you do,” he said truthfully, “And I want to see what makes you believe in i—“

His words slowed down as he watched a butterfly land on your fingertip as if you called for it yourself. He’s not sure if it meant anything or if it was just the utter fascination he had of you but he wanted to kiss you. It had nothing to do with getting you in his bed tonight and everything to do with just feeling you and when he raised his finger to touch yours, he took your hand and pulled you toward him.

You didn’t pull back like he thought you might, and before he could really process it, you were leaning into him. Jungkook placed a hand on your jaw, guiding your lips to his until finally, the softest touch made his insides melt. You kissed him gently, scared almost and his face fit perfectly between your hands as he hovered over you, eyes closed and warm to the touch.

Jungkook felt as if something burst inside him and he just wanted to chase that feeling with your kisses, unable to help himself from getting lost in the moment. He felt a bit numb to his surroundings, the only feeling he had was your lips on his and your tongue running along his with need. His breath was becoming short and the soft push of your hand on his shoulder had him pulling back reluctantly.

“You’re a good kisser,” you whispered against his lips and he couldn’t help but break into a smile, pecking your lips one last time before letting his head drop against your chest.

“It’s late,” he said with a small sigh as he looked up at you, finding your eyes stuck on the full moon.

You looked down at him and he could practically see the way you glowed underneath him.

He didn’t believe in magic or witches but, how else would he explain this feeling of being under a love spell?

And if he allowed himself to believe in love spells then did he have to believe in curses too?

“Now what do you mean you’re not coming tonight?” His friend asked, sporting Jungkook as he did a set of bench presses.

“I don’t know if I’ll make it,” Jungkook answered, counting how many he did, “I’ve got plans with Y/n.”

“And what? She won’t let you out for one night?” Namjoon asked with a slight roll of his eyes as Jungkook set the bar back in place and sat up with deep breaths, “She can’t come with us?”

“It’s not like that,” he shook his head no, “I haven’t even mentioned it to her.”

Namjoon couldn’t help but scoff as he took Jungkook’s place, “Why not? Would she be mad if you told her that you were going out with friends, for fucks sake?”

“What? No, No, Y/n’s not like that,” Jungkook was getting annoyed with his friend’s assumptions, “But I already talked about this with Taehyung. I’m not interested in partying right now or anything. I just wanna… yknow, chill?”

“You don’t even sound like yourself,” Namjoon said with a laugh, deciding to not push any further, “But whatever, I get it.”

“Get what?” Jungkook watched him move the bar to begin his set.

“You’re talking to someone,” Namjoon said with baited breath, “You've gotta be on your best behavior.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, “It’s not like I’m holding myself back. If I wanted to go out, I would.”

He’s being honest. You’re not keeping him from anything and it’s not like he was forcing himself to be someone he’s not but this wasn’t that serious. Yes, he had a tendency to go out with his friends every weekend and lately that’s declined but it’s not because of you necessarily. He’s just realized he’s way too exhausted these days to exert this much energy on a night he would regret by morning. He made terrible decisions and he’s tired of getting himself in trouble because of them.

“Just say the word and we can leave whenever you want,” Jungkook spoke into your ear as you looked around at everyone surrounding you. It was loud and packed with people in costumes, all looking to spend a fun night out celebrating Halloween. You’ll admit, it’s a bit out of your element but you’ll learn to adapt. It will just take some adjustment but the energy seems high and it might be more fun than staying at the shop to hand out candy all night.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, letting him place a hand on your lower back to lead you to the bar. Tonight was the first time you’ll be meeting Jungkook’s friend but you don’t feel nervous. If anything, he seemed more nervous than you and you weren’t sure how to feel about that. Since your first date the two of you have really leveled up whatever has been brewing between you since the night you met.

You’ve been spending more time together but it usually consists of Jungkook visiting you or texting all day. You haven’t had a chance to see more of him yet— as it feels like he’s been trying to accommodate you—so you’re curious to see how the night plays out with him and his friends.

“Look who finally decided to show up!” A loud voice boomed from the bar where you could see a familiar face smile at you. Hoseok waved happily at you as Jungkook led you to him and the others who watched you curiously. Hoseok ditched the hockey player costume for simple skull makeup and a leather jacket.

“There was a line to get in,” Jungkook admitted, slipping his hand in yours and pulling you forward, “What do you want to drink?”

“Surprise me,” you said with a smile. Jungkook ordered something on your behalf before turning to his other friends, “Everyone this is Y/n.”

“Jungkook didn’t do you any justice,” Taehyung said with a curious tilt of his head, “You’re way prettier than he said.”

“Oh no, what else has he said about me?” You asked with a soft tone that had both Taehyung and Namjoon blinking in surprise.

“Um, well…. A lot of things, neither one of them have shut up since they met you,” Namjoon confessed, looking to Hoseok who seemed to also think highly of you.

“Yes, I think Y/n put a spell on me,” Jungkook teased, handing you a bluish lavender drink and sending you a wink. He, of course, still felt nervous considering this is the first time he’s introducing you to his friends. It’s not that he’s embarrassed of you or anything but he’s definitely worried about what his friends would say to you. Not that long ago, Taehyung tried getting Jungkook to lie to you just because he didn’t care for how serious Jungkook felt about you. Now, Taehyung is here talking to you and Jungkook is worried he might say something he shouldn't.

Honestly, when the night started he didn’t expect you to want to come out. Namjoon had been bugging him all day about it and he had full intentions of not going out so he could spend the night handing out candy with you but… It’s like you have a sixth sense and when you asked him if he had any other plans, he told you what he was invited to and asked you to come along. He full heartedly thought you would say no because you don’t seem like the type to come out drinking but for some reason you agreed and he was happy with that.

Of course he was nervous to introduce you to the others but when he looked over at you and found you smiling softly, trying your hardest to be in the moment, he was grateful. His friends didn’t talk bad about him to you despite the occasional teasing and you didn’t seem uncomfortable by it. Every now and then he would run his thumb against your hip to remind you he’s there but mostly, he just listened.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” you said after a while. Taehyung had asked you question after question about the shop or the spell jar you made Hoseok and you indulged him in it all.

“Hm?” Jungkook fixed the tilt in your witch’s hat, “I’m just listening.”

“Are you having fun?” You asked letting his arm encircle your waist until you faced him. He looked at his friends who managed to grab the attention of some girls nearby and were in deep conversation with them.

His shoulders lifted in a shrug, “It’s alright.”

Your nose scrunched up in thought as you looked away from him, he kept you close trying to get you to look back at him, “I mean… yeah it’s fun but it’s loud and hot and… I don’t know, I kinda want it to just be us.”

“Just us?”

“Yeah, my friends have been talking to you all night,” he said it like it was a secret, “And Joon said he wanted me here so I came but now I’m really in the mood for us to leave—unless you want to stay.”

“Are you trying to ditch out on us?” Hoseok put an arm around his shoulders, dragging him into his side, “You barely come out anymore and now you’ve got Y/n here so there’s no reason to not want to party. It’s Halloween!”

“I know, but,” Jungkook played with his lip ring as he smiled lazily, “You’ve been taking all of my girl’s attention and I’m tired of sharing.”

The words slipped out but he didn’t regret them, even when you looked up at him curiously. He expected some sort of response from you but you merely smiled and shrugged like you weren’t apart of this exchange so when Namjoon asked what was up, Jungkook was honest.

“I think we’re calling it a night,” he had your hand in his, pulling into him as he looked at his friends and whatever girls they were with, “But you guys have fun.”

“That’s it?” Taehyung asked, looking at you, “Y/n, you don’t want to go to another bar?”

Jungkook released a small sigh as he looked down at you. He would love to leave but if you wanted to stay and maybe go to a few more places before ending the night… he’d do it but only because it’s what you want.

“I miss my cat,” you said it so casually that the others couldn’t understand it as an answer at first until you were waving goodbye, happy you met them but ready to go.

You didn’t talk much in the car and Jungkook drove carefully taking you back to the shop that was connected to your home. He’s not sure if you were tired or distracted but you stared out the window chasing the moon through the city. At one point he glanced over and found you nipping at your bottom lip with worry but he tried not to overthink it. The night had been good and you got along with his friends so there wasn’t anything he would change but the silence made him worry.

The car pulled up in front of the lantern lit shop and he looked at you with nerves waiting to see how you would Halloween. It was late but there were still a few people in costumes wandering around and too early to really call it a night. You silently pushed open the door, ready to leave when you sighed, “Jungkook.”

He didn’t have to say anything for you to know he’s listening and you turned to him, “Earlier you called me—“

My girl.

“I know,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “I just meant… I—I don’t know. Was it corny?”

A small laugh left your lips at his sudden question and decided to tease, “Just a little.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was worried about,” Jungkook couldn’t help but chuckle, “I was trying to sound cool and…”

“Failed?”

“Whoa,” he held a hand to his chest, “I wouldn’t go that far.” The car was still on but he made no move to leave and neither did you. Instead, he just looked at you sitting half in his car with the door open, “You didn’t like it?”

“Um, it’s not that but,” you bit your lip in thought, “I’m just worried of your intentions.”

“With you?” He asked quietly, watching you nod your head shyly and he sighed, “You don’t know if it’s worth it.”

It sounded like a statement and he knew he was right. You were worried about the curse, he knew you well enough to know that but he doesn’t care. He wants to go out with you and some stupid age old curse isn’t going to change his mind. He understands that you believe it so he won’t look down on it but he wants to be with you.

“What if I said it was?” Jungkook asked with genuine curiosity, “It’d be the first time I get cursed by a witch.”

He meant the last part as a joke and it got you to smile so he was more comfortable to tease, “Maybe I’ll turn into a cat so Coal and I could be friends.”

“He doesn’t like having friends,” You said with a smile and he could practically see your walls crumble so he kept going.

“That’s a shame because I have a dog and he’s the friendliest boy you’ll ever meet,” Jungkook said with a defeated sigh.

“I’m warning you,” you said but he smiled. “I’ve been warned.”

“I won't be upset if you don’t want to see me anymore. I’m a bit weird, yknow?” You seemed to ask, already beginning to warm up to the idea and it was enough to give him hope.

“I would have never guessed,” he said as he twisted a silver star charm you had styled in your hair, leaning closer and closer till his face was only a couple centimeters away, “And if you’re trying to scare me off, it’s not working—I can wake up with a bald head of hair tomorrow and I’ll be fine with it as long as I get to talk to you again.”

“So, do you want to come up then?” You asked and you didn’t have to say it twice for him to be powering off the engine so he could follow you inside.

For the first time ever, he disappeared behind the celestial tapestry that led up to your front door, trying to look around in the darkness. You liked rich shades of purple and blue. You liked stars and sheer drapes on your ceilings. You liked stain glass lamp shades and big soft rugs. Your house was like a whimsigoth cottage in the city and your bedroom was everything he imagined it to be even in the dark.

He expected you to turn the lights or something but instead you seemed to snap a finger before a couple candles lit up the bedroom and he was lost in wonder. It felt like he was enjoying a cozy night in the woods, like he just rested his head on your lap and listen to you read his palm.

“Sorry, it’s a bit messy,” you shoved a couple books aside and looked around the bedroom, “Is there anything I can get you.”

Jungkook shook his head, deciding to go through your vinyls with curiosity, smiling whenever he saw a vinyl with the word ‘witch’ in the title. You explained to him that it was all Jimin’s doing because he found it funny to buy you every vinyl with a Halloween or witchy vibe to it.

“Jungkook,” you called to his distracted mind and he lifted his eyes to you, the reflection from the lit candles in his gaze. You were standing by the edge of your bed, looking shy as you took off the witch’s hat. His lips parted with surprise, letting his feet take him to you until you were face to face and so close that his front brushed against yours. “Is this really something you want?”

He was the guy who had every girl he wanted. He would go to parties and make out with people he should. He would make bad decisions and regret them right after but this feels far from a bad decision. It’s the first time in a while that something felt right and it had to be you. There’s a reason why he’s been cleaning his act up, going to all his classes, showing up to work on time and ditching the nights out getting drunk.

Of course this was something he wanted.

He wanted you.

He had feelings for you.

You felt warm and he wanted to brush his fingers against your hair. Your touch was gentle but sudden as you ran a hand down the front of his chest, circling around his neck taking all his attention once more and he began to lean into you.

“Of course this is something I want,” he said just above a whisper, letting his hands touch down on your waist, unable to hold himself back any longer before he was pressing his lips to yours and kissing you effortlessly.

You tilted your head back, kissing him with equal hunger as he pulled you even closer until your bodies began to mold together into one before guiding you to lay back on your bed. Jungkook was gentle but firm, his hands felt rough but he touched you with such softness when he ran them down your sides. He didn’t hesitate to try and relish in the feeling of you under him, kissing along your neck and pressing his lips to your pulse point until he could feel your breath hitch in your throat.

You’re not a virgin but you’re not entirely experienced and yet you couldn’t find it in you to be nervous. Not even when his hands began to hitch up your black dress making you raise your hips enough for him to pull it up. Jungkook never once pulled his lips away from your skin, the desire to leave love bites was too strong and you were so soft underneath him. You looked up at your dark ceiling with its silver stars plastered all over and a handing moon lantern at the center, letting him kiss down your chest and navel.

“Is this okay?” Jungkook asked with genuine concern as he laid between your parted legs. The skirt of your dress had been pulled up to your stomach exposing the black underwear you wore, feeling his gentle fingers run against your hips patiently. A smile came to your face when he rested his head against your thigh, looking up at you lovingly and you nodded your head.

Jungkook pressed a kiss to your inner thighs, nose brushing against the sensitive areas as his nimble fingers began to brush along the thin black fabric, not yet touching you directly but feeling the outline of what was underneath. He could almost feel it all, the curve of your mound down to the slit where he pushed his thumb against until he could make out your entrance and feel the way you seemed to gasp when he teased you.

You had to bite down on your lip to keep in the surprised yelp from the way he began to pull your underwear down, moving to kiss whatever he exposed, not shying away from being more intimate. He raised your leg, sliding the cloth off before placing soft kisses against your calf and thigh, leading your legs over his shoulders before he laid back down and looked at what was between them. You felt like running away from how focused he seemed on your heat, almost asked him why until he was leaning down, tongue coming out to swipe against your hooded clit teasingly.

The bed was lush with pillows, using them to sink your head into when he did it again, this time more firm and intentional. You’ll admit, it’s been a while since you last had gotten intimate with someone so you couldn’t help but squirm when his tongue became more languid in its movements, separating your folds with the tip of it and letting his lips tug on the pulled skin. You couldn’t help but gasp, feeling his fingers pinch your thighs to keep you still while he circled your hardening clit with the tip of his tongue before kissing your labia and licking up whatever slick you released.

“Oh,” you couldn’t help but let out when he pressed his tongue against your entrance, nose pushing against your clit and just letting himself be completely engulfed by your essence. You could practically feel him smile against your core when he tilted his head to the side to tug your labia softly between his lips before letting it go and repeating the action.

When your hand found his hair, he seemed to pause wondering if you wanted him to stop, but then he felt a tug and he was helplessly following after you until you kissed, neither caring if there was the taste of you on his tongue. A low groan bubbled up in his throat that slipped through your lips when your tongue licked along his like you didn’t care he had just been kissing your soaked pussy and that made him unbelievably hard.

Jungkook moved a hand down to your legs, finding its way to your wet cunt, gently pressing into the puddle of slick at your entrance before moving up to your clit and rubbing it between his fingers. Your hands were in his hair, tugging softly whenever he did something you liked and with his tongue down your throat, he didn’t hesitate to tease your entrance with his middle finger, already feeling how tight your walls are when he began to press inside. Your mouth slipped open in pleasure as he thrusted a long finger into your cunt, palm flat against your clit and rubbing it in rhythm with his finger that soon became two, “You’re so wet, Angel.”

His fingers were completely soaked and anytime he pulled out his fingers to push them back in, he could practically feel the puddle around them and it made his dick throb in his pants. Your kissing came to an end when Jungkook couldn’t help but feel the need to disappear between your legs again, a bit annoyed that the fabric of your dress was in the way but pulled away anyway.

You arched your back off the bed in pleasure when his mouth found your clit again, paying his full attention back on it instead of his fingers which never relented on pumping in and out of you with such vigor that your legs began to shake, “Jungkook.”

“Hm?” He moaned, teeth lightly tugging on your folds and watching them go back until he licked against them to do it again.

“Are you close, Angel?” Jungkook asks with an unusually hoarse voice when you start to clench around his fingers, “Go ahead, let go for me.”

Your face hot and your chest heaving at the intensity just as it hits you and you’re cumming with a whimper that you try and hide behind a closed fist when his tongue eagerly licks up your release as it flows out and around his fingers. It took him a while to stop, only when he felt your thighs tremble did he pull away, some of your release coating his lips and piercings that he hungrily licked clean. A curse left his lips breathlessly as he sat back on his knees and looked down to see the way your pussy was flooded in slick.

You sat up once you had caught your breath, moving closer as he stared at his coated fingers curiously and without thinking, you took his hand by the wrist and brought his fingers toward your mouth. He watched you lick the space between them before bringing them into your mouth and sucking your essence clean off them.

“Fuck, Y/n,” his eyes fell shut as he let himself sink into the feeling of his fingers being sucked into your warm mouth and it was so hot in this bedroom. He pressed his thumb against your cheek as he attempted to take his fingers out of your mouth so he could use two hands to undress finally and you let him do just that. You bit into your bottom lip when he took his shirt off exposing more tattoos and muscle you had never seen but knew was there.

He looked at you as he undid his jeans, kicking them off along with his briefs exposing his hard cock that pointed straight with need that had him wincing at even the slightest touch of his hand against his tip. You quickly pulled on your dress, proving Jungkook’s earlier thoughts right when he questioned if you wore a bra or not—the answer was not—and it led him straight back to you. He kissed down your collarbone, hands on your hips as laid down between your legs, cock against your core causing him to moan out when he raised a hand knead your breast.

“I don’t have a condom,” he whispered in realization as he looked down at the way his slick began to tease your clit. Of course he wanted to continue but he doesn’t have any protection and it’s up to you what you want to do.

Your hands roamed against his back, “Jungkook.”

He looked up at you, lip pulled between his teeth when he felt your hand disappear between your pressed bodies until it circled around his stiff member making him bite back a groan of pleasure. You gave him a few strokes, guiding him down until his tip slipped into your slick and he looked at you with want when you said, “Just fuck me.”

It was all he needed to let himself sink into your entrance, a low moan leaving his lips as he felt his cock open your walls to adjust to his size. He didn’t stop pushing until he was all in, waiting there and feeling your breath grow more impatient as you got used to the feel of him.

He took things nice and slow, still concerned that you might want to end things any second, hoping you began to feel easy how good it felt when he rolled his hips, pushing more of his cock into you when you tightened.

“Fuck…” Jungkook couldn’t stop from cursing as pleasure took over his instincts. His body perfectly molded against yours with no space between them as he only used his hips to fuck you, “So good.”

Although he’s ashamed, he’ll admit that he has had his fair share of sexual intercourse but he can’t remember the last time he felt this good. His body felt like it was moving on its own accord, seeking its own pleasure with yours and he was so close. He kissed along your neck when you tipped your head back, lips parted with the force of his hips pushing himself deeper in a steady, but rough thrust of his cock.

Your breasts pressed against his chest as he practically hugged you to him with each thrust and he knew you were as close as he was to release. He brought a hand up your side until he was cupping a breast in his palm, kneading the soft flesh and rubbing his fingertip against your nipple watching the way your jaw seemed to drop in warning that you were close. Despite his hair being much shorter than it used to be, it still fell forward and over his eyes looking sweaty.

“You feel so good, Angel” he grunts, talking you both through orgasm. It was true, although he was doing all of the work, every little moan he pulled out of you mixed with the feel of your body against his felt so damn good. It made all this patience he had when it came to you worth it.

When Jungkook knew you were just over the edge, he brought his hand down, barely pressing it into your clit when he felt your walls tighten, a growl leaving his lips at how you sucked his cock in until finally, the tension broke and he felt himself flood with your release. He dug his face into your neck, shaking slightly as he bit back his own orgasm until yours subdued and he carefully guided his dick back out. Once the air hit his exposed, soaked member, everything broke loose.

You had taken him in your hand, stroking him through release and costing your thigh in his cum, listening to his string of moans and groans of pleasure with a gentleness he’s not sure he’s ever felt.

It took you both a while to regain some awareness and were ashamed to admit it was Coal’s persistent meowing on the other side of the bedroom door. Jungkook couldn’t help but laugh as he let himself collapse down on your bed next to you, breathing heavily with a hand on his chest as he saw stars—literally, littered across your ceiling. His hand searched endlessly for some sign of you, taking a lock of your hair and twisting it around his finger when you moved to sit up, hands covering your exposed intimates almost shyly. He raised a curious brow, sitting up on his elbow as he looked at the mess the two of you had made.

“You okay?” He asked with concern. The candles lit around the room reflected a soft glow off your skin and you looked as ethereal and whimsical as he thought that first night.

“Yes,” you said quietly, “I think I need a shower, though.”

He smiled, “So let’s take one.”

The next morning you found him sitting at the wooden counter of the shop.

“What are you reading?” You asked Jungkook as he had a book open, studying it carefully.

“Natural contraceptives,” Jungkook mumbled as he wrote down the names of various herbs on an old napkin, “I should have been more prepared last nigh—Do you have Black Cohosh or Angelica by chance? I heard if you drink it in a tea, it should help promote menstrua—“

Your hand covers his mouth when you felt the tall tale signs of your best friend approaching. Even before Jimin opened the door to the shop, he had a shit eating grin at the sight of you two, and not caring much for secrecy as he waved a finger to turn the sign to ‘OPEN’.

“So what did the two of you get up to last night?” He asked casually, trying to peak at the book that you quickly slammed shut bringing an amused smile to Jungkook’s face.

“We went out for some drinks,” Jungkook answered, standing up with an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your temple, “I’m going to start boiling water.”

It was strangely comical and endearing the way he acted and Jimin watched the way your gaze followed after him.

“Wow, and I didn’t even have to cast a love spell to bring that look into your eyes.”

On the night of November 1st, outside during a crescent moon, Jungkook asked if you could be his girlfriend sounding strangely shy that you couldn’t say no.

::.

omg this took me forever but I finally got out a little Halloween fic and I’ve actually done a softer, cuter oc than usual? woahhh who am I. also my bday is this Sunday [oct 29] and I just think I’m so special I gotta let yall know

permanent taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @sugaluvmyg @guvgguk @kimyishin n @libra04 @kooromiwrld @classycreationcupcake-blog @alwaysdreamingnotsleeping @cherrymonlightt @nikkiordonez12 @asking4-sanity @thvlover @saweetspoiled @uwu2rawr @shaybts-blog @babycandy111 @tearyjjeon @joons-uparupa @jeonninja @yellowcupid08 @02010802faves @knudsenheggedel @skzthinker @unnatae @aurorthi @beautywine @95ene @taekookstata @lilliankoo @shescharlie @annenakamura @lesoleile @burnahtsw @babybella337 @kooloveys @ku-ku @chaelvrx @minnie-mouser22 @Imeneghd @whoa-jo @evajeonsworld @marvelbun @sunnikthv @kochycooky @heyhowyoudoin3 @acielelyseen @giselleswifeee @jeonjk25 @ilikeitlikethatt @bangmechanpls @lvr2seok @badbyeyoongi @jaerisdiction @watermelonjuice15 @artmsmaid @xyahrinx @angeleen777 @jooniesxbby @brillantdarling

[witchboxco]

Imbolc Altar Ideas & Correspondences

Imbolc, also known as Candlemas or Brigid's Day, marks the halfway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It's a time to celebrate the returning light and the awakening of the Earth.

Altar Decorations:

Candles: Imbolc is strongly associated with the element of fire. Decorate your altar with candles in shades of white, yellow, and light blue to represent the increasing daylight.

Brigid's Cross: Craft or purchase a Brigid's Cross, a traditional symbol associated with the Celtic goddess Brigid. Hang it on your altar as a protective charm.

Seasonal Flowers: Place early spring flowers like snowdrops, crocuses, and daffodils on your altar. These symbolize the first signs of life returning to the land.

Herbs: Incorporate herbs such as rosemary, thyme, and cinnamon for their purifying and invigorating properties. Bundle them together with a red or white ribbon.

Seeds: Represent the potential for growth by adding a dish of seeds to your altar. Consider seeds associated with early spring crops like wheat or herbs.

Imbolc Symbols: Include symbols like lambs, ewes, and the sun to capture the essence of this seasonal transition.

Candle Holders: Choose unique candle holders or lanterns to enhance the ambiance. Consider using candle holders in the shape of suns, stars, or nature-inspired designs.

Divination Tools: Add divination tools like tarot cards or runes to your altar for seeking guidance during this transitional period.

Symbolic Stones: Integrate crystals such as citrine for abundance, aquamarine for clarity, and moonstone for intuition. Arrange them aesthetically around your altar.

Feathers: Symbolizing air and spirituality, feathers can be incorporated to invoke the energy of the season. Choose feathers from birds associated with the goddess Brigid, like swans or owls.

Artwork: Display artwork or illustrations that resonate with the themes of Imbolc. This could include depictions of Brigid, snow-covered landscapes, or symbols of growth and renewal.

Imbolc Incense: Craft or purchase incense blends with scents like frankincense, myrrh, and chamomile to fill your sacred space with a soothing and purifying aroma.

Correspondences

Goddess Brigid: Imbolc is sacred to Brigid, the Celtic goddess of hearth, home, and inspiration. Invoke her energy for healing, creativity, and protection.

Colors: White, yellow, light green, and light blue are associated with Imbolc. Use these colors in candles, altar cloths, and decorations to align with the festival's energy.

Stones: Crystals such as amethyst, garnet, and clear quartz resonate with Imbolc's energies.

Foods: Dairy products, especially cheese, and foods made with seeds like bread or muffins are fitting for Imbolc. Set offerings on your altar or incorporate them into your celebration feast.

Water: Imbolc is also associated with the element of water. Include a small bowl of water on your altar to symbolize purification.

Creativity Symbols: Imbolc is a time for inspiration and creative endeavors. Include symbols of your creative pursuits, such as a paintbrush, musical instrument, or writing quill.

Anointing Oils: Create or purchase anointing oils infused with herbs like lavender, rosemary, and frankincense. Use them to anoint candles, tools, or yourself during Imbolc rituals.

Animal Representations: Incorporate figurines or images of animals associated with Brigid, such as lambs, cows, or swans, to honor her connection to the animal kingdom.

Wheat or Corn Dolls: Craft small dolls from wheat or corn husks, symbolizing the harvest to come. Place them on your altar as a representation of the Earth's fertility.

Bell or Chimes: Hang a bell or wind chimes near your altar to symbolize the awakening of nature and the stirring of life. Ring it during your Imbolc rituals to mark significant moments.

Decorative Cloth: Choose an altar cloth with intricate patterns or symbols related to Imbolc, such as suns, wheels, or Brigid's crosses, to add a touch of magic to your sacred space.

May you find warmth in the returning light. <3

[hotchfiles]

↪ DANIEL 12:1 ─ chapter two.

AN IN NOMINE PATRIS, ET FILII, ET SPIRITUS SANCTI INSTALLMENT

pairing: hotch x fem!consultant!reader. summary: murders committed using catholic symbology gets emily to convince hotch it's time to ask for an expert. luckily for you, you're the expert. content warnings: canon typical violence. religious themes. spoilers to season 4. mature themes. mentions of throwing up. word count: 1.2K

      At that time Michael, the great prince who protects your people, will arise. There will be a time of distress such as has not happened from the beginning of nations until then. But at that time your people—everyone whose name is found written in the book—will be delivered.

      He didn’t reply to your question, how could he? What type of person asks another if they believe in God after an hour of meeting each other? How could he answer a question he himself wasn’t sure if there was an answer to?

      Did he believe in God? What god? His mother’s, the one who allowed her to drink her feelings and spit it out in form of insults and violence towards her family? The one that allowed his father to die of cancer? The one that didn’t do anything to stop the sick men and women Hotch had to catch every week?

      He shakes his head, trying to get his thoughts back to the case presented now in the board of the DC precinct but his eyes land on you, the way your foot shakes, up and now, your legs crossed, your fingers tapping the table quickly and with a rhythm of their own, your bottom lip would bleed out if you kept chewing on them, but what he noticed most were your eyes, wide and focused on the board with all the pictures from the crimes, even the ones Emily hadn’t sent you.

      This was the reason bringing outside people was not a good idea. Not everyone is prepared to deal with death, horrific deaths at that, the way the BAU members were. You clearly weren’t. He might’ve asked you how you were once more, but as quick as he thought about it, you two weren’t alone anymore as the lead detective and Emily came into the room.

      “They were drugged but could feel everything.” The words ring inside your ears, loud and repetitive like a beating heart. Your heart. Your mouth waters in a way you know too well and you feel your palms clamming.

      You’re going to be sick.

      You give the room half a smile and a nod, quietly excusing yourself from the others while making the effort not to make a scene, but you’re barely able to see where you’re going as you try to reach the bathroom.

      Something tells you you’ve done a good job at being discreet, even if you weren’t able to conceal the awful sounds coming from your throat, the light breakfast you had suddenly not seeming very light. It’s probably the fact no one knows you, or maybe because everyone else is busy trying to solve a goddamn murder case.

      The thoughts in your head were quickly brushed over when you heard someone clear their throat, a light knock on the door of the stall you were kneeling at. Your body reacts fast, holding the door with your palms even though it was locked.

      “Sorry, occupied.” Your voice in rough from putting it through too much, but you stay polite regardless.

      “Are you alright?” There is genuine concern in his, it keeps any shame from creeping up on you.

      “Mr. Hotchner! I’m okay… I ate something bad, it’s alright.” The lie comes without a second thought, but it’s obvious he doesn’t buy it. You get up quickly, opening the door as an attempt to leave the situation behind along with the contents you just flushed down.

      “No one expects you to react to these like we do.” His eyes are piecing and you swallow dry, nodding in understanding and thankfulness, but unable to say much else. “I will leave you to it, we are going through the files again, if you need anything, you can text me.” Hotch hands you his card, realizing you don’t really have his number and stands to his word, leaving you alone.

      Truthfully, he’s not sure what made him follow you to the bathrooms, possibly the fact Emily didn’t seem to notice the way your lips had gotten devoid of color or maybe it was just in his nature to care for others, fascinating alike you or not.

      It doesn’t take you too long to go back to the conference room the team was set, only some minutes to wash your mouth and your face, a few deep breaths to control your heart rate.

      “So the motive isn’t religious?” You hear a police officer ask as soon as you get back.

      “It has religious elements but the message doesn’t seem religious.” You smile to yourself as Emily speaks, fascinated by her quickness to get into work mode, to get into the mind of who was doing all of that.

      “It‘s about punishment.” Hotch repeats your earlier insight, it makes you feel useful, and smart. You knew you were intelligent, brightly so, but having something you said be important in something so big as an investigation was… Different.

      “And how is that not religious?”

      “Punishment coming from a religious motive would probably include whipping and at the most extreme, burning. The use of the cross pose seems purposeful, it is a punishment, a shameful one, but also, there’s some… Status to it, because it was how Jesus was killed.” You can be heard by everyone, but your focus is again on the pictures, your finger quietly drawing invisible crosses along the table. “I guess it can be another way to allude to Catholicism, like Saint Michael, they are the religion with the biggest attachment to the image of Christ in the cross. But then again, it doesn’t have any other aspect of Christ’s crucifixion.”

      No one has the time to reply to your rambling, a loud ringtone interrupting the brainstorming, Hotch answers, promptly putting the call on speaker.

      “The widow was no help, she is shaken up and has no idea who would want to kill her husband.” Derek sounds defeated, “And Hotch, he wasn‘t religious.”

      “Mrs. Beckett said she tried to bring him to mass countless times during their marriage but he always vehemently refused to.” Spencer’s voice is higher in pitch but he sounds intrigued, deep in thought.

      “Alright, come back to the precinct, we are waiting for Rossi and JJ and beginning to create a geographical profile.”

      Your puzzled look doesn’t last long, as the team present begins pinning on a map the victim’s homes and where they were found.

      “No churches near the warehouses, but two near Monica Dawson’s place.” Emily comments first looking at the red pins.

      The phone rings again and you wonder if they don’t get headaches from that sound coming out of nowhere all day, but the sweetest and most cheerful voice you ever heard comes on speaker, Garcia, and you smile involuntarily.

      “Garcia, any leads?”

      “You know I do, my darling sweet boss—”

      “Don’t call me that.”

      “Fine, sweet sir, both warehouses are pretty much truly abandoned, but I sniffed around, and by that I mean I went far far back and found some documents I maybe shouldn’t be sniffing around—”

      “Garcia.” You hold in a laugh at the interaction and the supposedly threatening tone Hotch was using.

      “Both were used for military training, like… SEAL type of military.”

      There is a bit of an awkward silence before Hotch thanks and dismisses her, with the mission to find records of everyone who were apart of those trainings.

      “If we’re dealing with a Navy SEAL…” Emily’s voice is a whisper you’ve never heard before.

      “Things might get ugly. We need to be fast.” Hotch’s shows more confidence, but he is worried and as you realize seconds later when an officer barges in, he has every reason to.

      “There’s been another one.”

[thesimline]

1920s BIRTHSTONE LOOKBOOK - PART 1

To coincide with the recent release of the Crystal Creations pack I wanted to put together a couple of fun lookbooks inspired by birthstones. My mind first went to whimsigoth, but since I've already done one of those recently I instead went with the decade that oozed glittery glamour - the 1920s. Want more good time gals and fabulous flappers? You can check out part two here.

Garnet was believed to be a protective stone, which made it popular amongst warriors and royalty. Red variety garnets are also associated with vitality, love and light.

Tiara | Hair | Earrings (TSR) | Capelet (TSR) | Dress (retired - direct download) | Brooch | Gloves | Bracelet (TSR) | Ring (TSR) | Stockings (Base Game) | Shoes

Amethyst was favoured by the ruling class thanks to its purple colour, which has long been a hue connected to royalty. Over time it has also come to be associated with spirituality, mental clarity and healing.

Hair | Hairband | Earrings (TSR) | Necklace (TSR) | Coat | Gloves | Ring (TSR) | Stockings (Base Game) | Shoes

Aquamarine comes from the Latin word for seawater and as such, was thought to protect seafarers. The stone can also be associated with martial happiness and superior intellect.

Hairband | Hair | Earrings | Necklace (TSR) | Dress | Cuffs | Ring | Shoes

Diamond is probably the most well known of the precious gems. Because of their association with strength and eternal love, they're a popular choice for engagement and wedding rings.

Hat | Hair (retired - direct downloand) | Earrings (TSR) | Necklace & Armbands | Dress | Gloves | Stockings (Spooky Stuff) | Shoes

Emerald has a legend that says wearing it will imbue the wearer with heightened intelligence and objectivity. Others use the stone to promote healing, while some even believe it allows the wearer to predict the future.

Hair | Hairband | Earrings (TSR) | Necklace | Dress | Gloves (Vampires) | Bracelet (TSR) | Ring | Shoes (TSR)

Pearl is often valued for its unblemished surface and colouring, so naturally it is most commonly connected to qualities like honesty, purity and wisdom.

Hair | Hairband | Earrings (retired - direct download) | Necklace | Dress | Fur Stole (Curseforge) | Bracelets | Stockings | Shoes

With thanks to some amazing creators: @glitterberrysims @simmister @batsfromwesteros @sentate @jius-sims @qwertysims @nell-le @rimings @yakfarm @simsonico @serenity-cc @simandy @the-melancholy-maiden @trillyke

[awkward-walking-potato]

Hiii!! I absolutely loved your post of where remy , Logan and Scott and rescue a mutant reader from the illegal mutant cage fighting scenario!! Could you do that one but with Kurt/Nightcralwer!! ❤️ thank you 😊

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler) x Reader Headcanons: Discovering You Were in an Illegal Mutant Cage Fighting Ring

- Kurt’s first reaction would be one of shock and deep concern when he learns about your past in an illegal mutant cage fighting ring. His heart would ache at the thought of you being forced into such a violent and dangerous situation. The gentle and kind-hearted Kurt would find it hard to reconcile the idea of you, someone he cares about, having endured such brutality.

- His instinct would be to comfort you immediately. Kurt would wrap you in a protective embrace, his tail curling around you as well, as if trying to shield you from the memories. He would speak to you in soft, soothing tones, reassuring you that you are safe now, and that you never have to go through something like that again.

- Kurt has experienced his share of discrimination and cruelty due to his appearance and powers, so he would feel a deep empathy for you. He would understand how the world can be cruel to those who are different, and he would express how sorry he is that you had to suffer through such an ordeal. He’d want you to know that he sees your strength in surviving it.

- If and when you’re ready to talk about your experiences, Kurt would be an incredibly patient listener. He wouldn’t push you to share more than you’re comfortable with, but he’d be there to listen to every word if you chose to open up. He’d gently hold your hand, offering a supportive presence without judgment or pity, just understanding.

- In the aftermath of your revelation, Kurt would be more affectionate and gentle with you than ever. He would be mindful of your boundaries, but he’d always be there to offer a comforting touch or a reassuring smile. He’d be constantly aware of your emotional state, wanting to help you heal and feel safe in his presence.

- While Kurt is usually very peaceful, the thought of you being hurt would awaken a fiercely protective side of him. He might not show it outwardly all the time, but he’d make a silent vow to keep you safe from harm. If he ever encountered anyone involved in the ring, his usually forgiving nature might falter—he’d struggle with anger, knowing what they put you through.

- Kurt would be in awe of your strength and resilience. He would often remind you how strong you are for surviving such a harrowing experience and making it out the other side. He’d encourage you to see yourself not just as a survivor, but as someone with incredible inner strength.

- Kurt would want to help you heal, both physically and emotionally. He’d suggest spending time doing things that bring you peace and joy, whether it’s exploring nature together, practicing meditation, or even sparring in a safe, controlled environment if you wanted to regain your confidence in your abilities.

- Understanding that trust might be difficult after what you’ve been through, Kurt would be incredibly patient in building that trust between you. He’d never rush you into anything, always letting you set the pace for how your relationship develops. His kindness and gentle nature would make it easy for you to trust him, but he’d always be careful not to take that trust for granted.

- Given his strong faith, Kurt might offer spiritual support if it’s something you’re open to. He would never push his beliefs on you, but he’d offer prayers for your healing and peace, hoping to provide comfort in whatever way he can. He’d want you to know that he believes in redemption and healing, and that you deserve both.

- Kurt would want to celebrate your freedom from the cage fighting ring. He’d plan something special to mark the occasion—maybe a day trip somewhere beautiful or a small celebration with close friends. He’d want to create new, positive memories with you, to remind you that you’re no longer trapped, and that you have a whole life ahead of you filled with possibilities.

- Ultimately, Kurt would make sure you knew that he is always there for you, no matter what. Whether you need a shoulder to cry on, someone to laugh with, or just quiet companionship, Kurt would be there. His love and support would be unwavering, helping you rebuild your sense of safety and trust in the world.

[tropes-and-tales]

Ten Months as Yours

Colonel Horacio Carrillo x F!Reader

CW:  Angst (reader is CIA and has feelings about it; failed first marriages; talk of Catholicism); smut (oral, m! and f! receiving; PiV, unprotected); 18+ only.

Word Count:  10,951

AN:  This was from an "Arranged Marriage" prompt list. An anon asked for it, and it was supposed to incorporate dates where the couple gets to know each other. I, an idiot, didn't remember that until nearly the end, but if you kind of squint, you can see it.

AN2: Not edited. Not even a little bit.

AN3: Sigh. I dunno, folks. It's whatever.

Horacio Carrillo’s first marriage was standard Catholic fare:  the reading of the banns beforehand, then the long wedding Mass.  Heavy on the incense, crowded church, a red-faced priest droning through the Gospel.  Juliana, his blushing bride in a heavy lace veil, clutching a bouquet of lilies already wilted and brown at the edges in the Colombian heat.

Then, years later, the dissolution of that marriage.  Papers signed separately in the presence of lawyers after an ice age formed between the couple.  Then more years of Horacio being single again, but the time slipped by like water.  He was so busy with work, he hardly registered the empty house he returned to every evening.

Horacio Carrillo’s second marriage is something else entirely.

It’s not, strictly or spiritually speaking, a real marriage.  It’s a bit of maneuvering on the  part of the U.S. government, logistical choreography as part of a larger plan.  To the world at large, Horacio Carrillo is dead:  murdered by Escobar’s men in a trap.  Only a handful of people know the truth—the doctor and nurses at the American hospital who healed him under a temporary alias.  And this man, Johnson, a U.S. Marshal and handler for the U.S. Witness Protection program

Johnson is the sole witness to this so-called marriage, if one could even call it that.  It happens on the cargo plane from Bogota to Atlanta.  Johnson sits in the jump seat across from his two charges:  Horacio…and you.

Horacio doesn’t even learn your real name.  There’s no exchange of vow and certainly no incense or bouquet of lilies.  Instead of a blushing bride, there’s a silent one.  Your mouth is set in a thin, straight line as you listen to Johnson’s rundown of your new life, and every time Horacio chances a look at you, he only sees the tension in you.  Grim-set mouth, clenched jaw…and the white edge of a bandage on your temple, mostly hidden under the sweep of your hair.

Horacio wonders if you’re dead to the world too.  You aren’t DEA or CIA, at least not in the Colombian theater, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t nearby.  The U.S. agencies have their sticky fingers all over South America.

The broad strokes of the situation:  you and Horacio are newlyweds.  You met in Spain and are returning to the U.S.  Horacio is dead, but he’s been replaced by Davide, and Johnson hands over a thick packet of official documents—Spanish birth certificate, Spanish passport, U.S. green card. 

You are also dead, but you’ve been replaced by Gwen.  Another thick packet of documents detailing your fake life as an ex-pat American in Spain.

Each packet also contains a simple gold band for each of you.  Horacio turns it over and over in his hand, contemplates the little twist he gets in his gut to put a ring back on his finger after years of being divorced.

You slide yours on too, but you fuss with it the rest of the flight, twisting it around and around your finger.

“You’re going to Vermont, of all places,” Johnson tells you.  “There’s a mid-sized college there with a lot of international folk coming and going, so you’ll blend in.  The house is handled, and you’ll get a stipend every month, but we expect you to find jobs as quickly as you can.”

Johnson doesn’t even attempt to say how long it will be.  Horacio knows he has to wait out Escobar before he can return to Colombia.  You?  Who can say?

The rest of the flight is silent except for the low roar of the engines and the creak of the netting holding the cargo in place.  Once you land, you stand and follow Johnson and Horacio off of the plane to transfer to a smaller passenger plane that will take you to Vermont.

The final leg of the journey is silent too.

When you deplane in the small regional airport in Vermont, you stumble on the step down from the fuselage.  Horacio catches your arm, keeps you upright.

“Watch your step,” he says softly.

“Thank you,” you reply.

It’s the first words you exchange, and his hand on your clothed arm—that’s the first time he touches you.

-----

Horacio has never been to the United States before, but when he thinks of it, he thinks of what he’s seen in the movies:  New York City, perhaps, with the traffic and skyscrapers and Statue of Liberty.  Or Miami with its white beaches and turquoise water and neon-tinged nightlife.

Vermont is something else.

It’s green.  Everything is so green.  The rounded mountains in the distance, the old trees with huge, spreading branches.  The grass of the lawns in this college town.  Even though it is near twilight, even the shadows are green-tinged as the sun sets.

“At least we arrived in the spring,” you say.  You glance at him, explain that New England winters can be brutal.

The house is small, trim.  It’s a simple ranch but well-built.  There’s a fair amount of land, and the nearest neighbors are far enough away that there’s privacy.

Of course it’s awkward.  You don’t know each other at all, and you’re both in hiding.  Horacio is out of habit with living with another person, and he has to guess you are too.

That first night, the first moment of awkwardness:  when you arrive at the house, there’s two bedrooms, and you both hesitate in the hallway that leads to both.  You’re married on paper (kinda) but who would expect you to share a bed?  But you’re also both exhausted, and Horacio takes in the dark circles under your eyes.  The larger room has a full-sized bed, but the guest only has an uncomfortable-looking daybed.

“Take the master bedroom,” he says.  “I’ll take the guest room.”

“You sure?”  Your words, Horacio notices, are slightly accented, like you’ve been around people like him who speak English as a second language.  He wonders about your past and what landed you here with him.

“Of course.  Take the room.  We’ll talk in the morning.”

You nod, and he glances down at where you twist that gold band over and over around your slim finger.  It’s here, he’ll realize later, that he starts to feel something for you, but at the moment, it’s only sympathy.  You’re trapped in the same miserable situation as him, so sympathy is an easy emotion to access.

“I appreciate it…Davide,” you reply, and you give him a nod, then turn in for the night.  He hears the quiet click of the bedroom door as you shut it, and he turns in too.  The daybed is cramped, and he can’t stretch out completely, but he’s so bone-tired that he’s asleep the minute his head hits the pillow.

-----

The first month, April. 

It’s awkward.  It’s more awkward for Horacio; everything in the U.S. is familiar, but just different enough to make it seem like he’s dreaming.  You’re already an American, and life in an idyllic New England college town is easier for you to settle into.

Living with another person is strange.  Horacio finds that the two of you engage in a civil, stilted dance each day that first month.  You each tiptoe around the other, defer to each other in a painfully polite way.  When Horacio catches you singing along softly to the radio one night, you snap the music off and go quiet.  When you walk in on him in the bathroom once—he was only brushing his teeth, so it is hardly salacious—you apologize and refuse to meet his eyes for the rest of the week.

The two of you don’t really talk, not that first month.  You aren’t supposed to share details about your real lives with each other, so neither of you know how to converse in the weird liminal space you find yourselves.  Your conversations are limited to menial topics.  The weather, the house and yard, what you each want for dinner that night.  You trade off chores, you drift around each other, and it’s like living in purgatory with another ghost.

Sometimes, Horacio swears he can hear you crying softly through the wall that separates your room from his, but you never offer any insight into your feelings and he doesn’t ask.

-----

The second month, May.

Johnson told each of you to find work, and you land a job first:  you get a position at the college.  You ask him, a bit shy, if you can take a certain portion of the monthly stipend to buy some new clothes for your office job, and Horacio’s gut does that twist again.  Of course you need new clothes.  You left wherever with nothing, the same way he left Colombia with nothing.

“Of course,” he says.  “You don’t even need to ask.”

That makes you smile a little, and you make a weak joke about not wanting to be the sort of wife to spend frivolously.  It makes Horacio chuckle.  It breaks the uneasy tension in the house a bit, and he ends up going to the mall with you that weekend as you shop.

There’s nothing like a mall to encapsulate American culture, and Horacio tries to play it cool at the conspicuous consumption on display.  The giant building, the icy air conditioning, the cacophony of sound echoing around the marble floors and walls.  There’s so many people and only a handful of security guards.  When Horacio studies them closer, he sees that they don’t even carry guns—they only have walkie-talkies as they saunter around at a lazy pace.

His life now is a far cry from his life as the leader of the Search Bloc.  And when he glances over at the woman walking beside him, he realizes how far this second marriage is from his first.

But the thought leads to him ruminating about his first marriage and all the little ways he failed Juliana.  This situation with you isn’t a marriage, of course, but it doesn’t stop him from wanting to be better.

So once you are done shopping, he pulls you into the Sam Goody and insists that you buy an album to celebrate.  He catches you singing all the time in the house, listening to the radio, humming or singing along.  When he imagines your mysterious life before now, he imagines an apartment filled with a big stereo and shelves of albums.

“Seriously?”  It makes you smile again, and Horacio thinks you have a nice smile, though he wonders how often people ever get to see it.

“Well, it’s our stipend,” he clarifies.  “It’s not like I’m treating you, really.  I guess it’s not really a gift if it’s ours.”

Another smile, and he stands back and watches as you rifle through the stacks of vinyl records and CD’s, as you pull one out and read the list of songs, then replace it.  You finally settle on one, and the two of you check out, and Horacio pulls out his wallet and pays.

And even if it’s your shared stipend, you thank him and smile again, and it feels like something that he can’t quite name.

-----

The third month, June.

You leave the house every weekday for work.  Horacio finally has some firsthand knowledge of what Juliana must have felt when he left each day.  He had always prided himself that he was able to provide for both of them, that she never had to work. 

He had never considered how bored she must have been.

He wakes up early out of habit, but you do too.  In the soft pre-dawn light, you go out for a run every day.  Part of him remains Search Bloc; he stands at the living room window and watches for you until you return, panting, your t-shirt ringed with sweat.  He finds he can breathe easier once you’re in sight. 

While you shower and dress, Horacio makes you coffee.  The two of you sip at your coffee in companionable silence, and then you’re off.

It leaves him with a full day with little to do.

He cleans the house, but that takes no time at all because both of you are fastidious and neat anyway.  He maintains the lawn, trims back the unruly rhododendrons.  He bought a weight bench and a set of free weights from a yard sale a few weeks after you moved, and he spends some time lifting in the garage.

That takes him to noon, if he’s lucky.

His afternoons are when he thinks of Juliana the most.  Is this what her life with him was like?  Back then, he used to scoff at the claim that women needed a life outside of the home.  His mother had seemed happy to be a housewife and mother, and he had always assumed that Juliana was the same.  Except the children never came, and Juliana had a degree in fashion design from the university—yet when she broached the idea of a job or even an internship, Horacio had dissuaded her.

He had thought he was being a good husband.  Now, as he sits and drowses to “Days of Our Lives,” he wonders how he had missed the obvious.

But if he’s Juliana in this situation, you are no Horacio.  For one thing, you return home in the late afternoon—he’s never left to eat dinner alone in a too-quiet house.  For another, you immediately kick off your shoes and pad over to where he’s cooking dinner, and you fall into an easy rhythm of helping him finish it off.

Halfway through June, you get comfortable enough to start calling out, “honey, I’m home!” each time you return.

Which makes him smile, every time.

And he’s only a passable cook, but you praise every meal he puts in front of you.  You joke once, say “I should have gotten a husband a long time ago,” and that makes him smile even wider, and it is easy to fall into the fantasy that this easy domesticity is real.  The fantasy only falls apart at night, when you each retire to your separate rooms, as you do every night.

-----

The fourth month, July.

The easy domesticity cedes to something deeper and darker right at the start of the month.

Horacio has never been to the U.S. before, so he hasn’t experienced the usual Independence Day celebrations.  When he asks, you grin and tell him that a good old-fashioned U.S.-style barbecue might be nice, and that’s what the two of you plan.  You and Horacio as Davide and Gwen:  patriotic Americans.

The day starts off great.  The weather is hot and humid enough to feel like Colombia, and Horacio will admit that you look nice in your cut-off shorts and cotton tank top.  He will admit that if you were really his wife, he might never even make it to lunchtime before taking advantage of a quiet house set apart from its neighbors.

The barbecue is nice.  It’s all-American fare:  hot dogs and hamburgers, corn on the cob steamed over hot coals.  You buy an apple pie from a nearby farm stand, and you also make some trifle type dessert, and the two of you wash it all down with ice-cold beer.  By the time dusk rolls around and lightning bugs start to flicker across the lawn, Horacio is pleasantly buzzed.

The town puts on a fireworks display, and as the sky turns a velvety black, the light show starts.  Your house is in the perfect place to see it, slightly set on a ridge, and blossoms of red and white and blue sparks explode across the sky.  Horacio, tipsy, watches the first few minutes, completely mesmerized…but when he turns to say something to you, he finds you missing.

He finds you in the house.  More specifically, he finds you in the bathtub, hugging your knees to your chest, forehead pressed to knees.

“Gwen?” he says, and he feels stupid saying the obviously fake name, but he doesn’t know your real one.

You don’t answer anyway, and he steps into the bathroom.  Studies you closer.  Sees that you are shaking, and between the muffled booms of the fireworks, he can hear your panting breath.

He moves without any real thought.  He knows—or can guess, at least—at what is happening to you.  Horacio has led enough men through enough battles to recognize a panic attack when he sees one, but you aren’t one of his men and this is no battle, so he puts a gentle hand on your shoulder to alert you that he’s there.  Then he climbs into the bathtub with you.

“Scoot forward a little,” he orders softly, and you do.  He maneuvers himself behind you, then pulls you closer to him.  Your back pressed against his chest, and his arms wrapped around you, he holds you close despite the heat and humidity of the day. 

“Just breathe with me.”  He takes a deep, slow breath, feels his chest push against you.  He does it again and again, and after a long while, you start to mimic him. 

The fireworks end, and eventually you stop trembling.  Tucked this close to him, Horacio can see the edge of a thick scar disappearing under your hair, and he remembers the bandage on the plane from Bogota.

He wonders if the moment that caused that scar is linked to this moment now. 

After you calm, and after you sheepishly untangle yourself from him, he urges you to do whatever you need to.  To take a cool shower or go to bed.  That he’ll clean up.  You gaze back at him a long moment, like you’re trying to decide something, and then you nod.  You leave the bathroom and disappear into your bedroom, and he hears that quiet click of the door closing.

The rest of the month is uneasy.  The panic attack seems to have dredged up the muck in your past, the trauma of a life that has resulted in you being in Witness Protection, injured enough at some point to have a thick scar on your head.

Something about this feels like an echo from his first marriage.  Juliana went silent on him too, but for different reasons.  Your silence is driven by an inner turmoil that he can only guess at, and he feels powerless to help.

So he only does what he can.  He makes you coffee each morning before work.  He makes you dinner each night.  He asks gentle, tame questions about your work day, and when you don’t have much to say in that quarter, he tells you that day’s drama on “Days of Our Lives.”

“Stefano DiMera is back,” he tells you one night.  “And Marlena is possessed by el Diablo.”

That’s the sole smile he is able to coax from you all month.  You pick at the dinner he made, pushing it around with the tines of your fork, and repeat, “the Devil?”

Horacio nods.

“Like, Lucifer the Devil?”

“Yes.”

You smile.  “That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

He nods again, smiles back at you.  “It really is.”

-----

The fifth month, August.

Horacio finds a job with a state nursery, and when he applies, he nearly despairs at the cliché of it:  a South American immigrant becoming a landscaper. 

But it’s not landscaping at all.  It’s a quiet, peaceful job.  The summer interns have already left for the year, so Horacio is hired on to help the old-timer, Lawrence.  Lawrence has a thick Yankee accent, says little, but Horacio finds the job a revelation.  He walks the rolling grounds and checks on the saplings that will one day be planted across the state.  They’ll go into parks and line city streets, and it knocks something loose in him.  A job where he’s nurturing life that will potentially live on long after him.  The oak sapling he waters and feeds today could live hundreds of years when he’ll be long forgotten. 

With him working now, you and Horacio switch off on meals.  You teach him how to use the most American of small appliances, the slow cooker.  You make him the most American of working class meals, the one-pot dish.  He makes you the comfort food from his childhood, and together you find an egalitarian balance.

But something about July and your low mental health…it makes Horacio want to do better.  Who knows how long the two of you will end up living like this?  He wants to understand you better, and he wants you to know him, because the two of you exist as the sole inhabitants of this weird, unlikely life as Davide and Gwen.

“Let’s each say one true thing about ourselves,” he proposes over dinner one night.  He’s bone-tired from work—he spent the day mulching rows and rows of tender little Eastern Hemlocks (and he knows the difference now between them and a balsam fir and a spruce).  You look tired too, but at his suggestion, your eyes light up.  Maybe you’ve been wanting some familiarity with him too and just were waiting on him to suggest it first.

So August is this:  getting to know each other.  Dumb stuff, usually.  Favorite colors, favorite songs, favorite foods.  Most embarrassing memory.  Best memory.  Age of first kiss. 

-----

The sixth month, September.

The weather starts to turn.  The nights grow cold, and the leaves transform from all that green to a riot of reds and yellows and oranges.  Work at the nursery slows way down, and Horacio spends long hours following Lawrence’s lead, which means an hour or two of paperwork, then lunch, then quietly reading a book at his desk.

You’re busy with the new academic year, but the weekends are spent doing day trips.  You’re six months into this, and you’re both braver, more willing to travel afield.  You go into the mountains to look at the leaves from a different angle than what you see from your house.  You go to pick apples, and you spend a weekend cooking them into pies, cobblers, and apple sauce.

The dinner-time “one true thing” game ends, and it turns into natural conversation.  It’s so comfortable now.  You chat and laugh and joke, and sometimes he teases you, and it makes you duck your head to hide your pleased smile.  You like being teased, Horacio finds.  You like being the butt of gentle jokes, so he obliges you as often as he dares. 

It’s a revelation to find that he has a sense of humor after all.

Over one dinner, he mentions his first marriage, his first wife.  You ask him questions, and he answers them honestly, and then he asks if you’ve ever been married.

“No.”  You shake your head to emphasize the point. 

“Ever engaged?”

You hesitate, then nod.  “Yes.  A long time ago.”

“What happened?”

You shrug, lifting one shoulder up before dropping it back down.  “Life.  Expectations.  It’s hard to say.”  You take a sip of your water, then settle your gaze somewhere past Horacio, like you’re looking at the specter of your failed engagement.

“I was young and very career-driven,” you add.  “And not many men want that in a wife.”

“I’m sorry.”  He is, of course, and he’s doubly-sorry because he was arguably one of those men.  He kept Juliana at home, stifled her own career aspirations.  A flush of shame courses through him at the memory of his own failings.

Another shrug.  “It was for the best.”

“And now here you are, married to me,” he teases, and yes—you duck your head, but he catches the shy little grin, the curve of your cheek as you smile at the joke.

-----

The seventh month, October.

It’s the first time you’ve actually ordered him to do anything, so Horacio finds himself busy each weekend, decorating the house for Halloween.  There’s ghosts strung in the trees in the front yard.  Fake gravestones jut from the lawn like rotting teeth.  Purple and orange lights are strung around the windows and banisters of the porch, and the two of you set to carving more pumpkins than Horacio thought possible.

But it’s worth it, because your town goes all out for the holiday.  You bought him a costume weeks ago, and when he dresses after dinner, he’s surprised to find you openly checking him out.  Your gaze sweeps from the hair on the top of his head—longer than Search Bloc reg, curling at the nape of his neck—to his shoes, and you take in his vampire costume.

“You look handsome,” you tell him, and he tries not to ogle you in turn and utterly fails, because you’re dressed up like a witch but the black dress hugs your curves, and the ridiculous hat, complete with a floppy brim, does nothing to detract from how sexy you look.

Horacio finds himself sitting on the front porch with you, handing out candy to the children that come by.  And it charms him, how much you get into it, how you guess at what each child is supposed to be.  You read the kids perfectly—you’re sweet with the scared little ones, but you play up the witchiness with the older ones, crooking your fingers and cacking at them.

When there’s a lull in the crowd at one point, he catches you as you shiver, so he pulls you close to him and wraps his cloak around your shoulder.  He never touches you much, but this is blatant, and the moment feels heavy with intent.

You lean into him.  A moment later, he feels your arm wend its way around his waist, under his cloak, so he holds you closer.

The evening continues like that.  The two of you play it up more and more, comfortable with pretending.  Not you and Horacio, and not Davide and Gwen, but a vampire and a witch, and the more you cackle and scare the children, the more Horacio flashes his fake teeth and hisses at them. 

Who ever knew handing out candy in a cheap drugstore costume could be so fun?

When another lull happens, he pulls you back to him, and the motion takes you off balance a little.  You hold him back but lean away from him, searching for your equilibrium, and it bares the smooth column of your neck to him.

Horacio forgets himself.  Davide forgets himself.  The vampire he’s pretending to be dips his head, and he presses the plastic points of his fake teeth into your pulse point, and you give a squeal of surprise, but when Horacio lifts his head to study you, he sees you staring back at him, your eyes wide and dark with obvious desire.

“That’s a good way to get a hex on you,” you warn, but there’s a smile on your red lips, and you don’t release your own hold on him.  You don’t shove him away.

“I enjoy a good hex,” he replies. 

The stream of children eventually dies off.  The bowl of candy has been replenished multiple times, but you fill it one last time and set it on the porch for any stragglers. 

Inside the house, you go from room to room and check the locks on the doors, turn off the lights.  Horacio lingers near the hallway, and when you turn to make your way to your room, he stills you.  He puts his hand on your waist, lightly, and he doesn’t say anything.  The moment hangs suspended as you both stand there, silent.

What does it mean for Horacio Carrillo to take you to bed? 

He has always tried to be a good Catholic (the killing of narcos aside).  He’s never been with anyone other than Juliana, and he feels a tinge of doubt.  Guilt, too.  He’s always prided himself on his fidelity, and post-divorce, he took a perverse pride in the fact that he never took a lover.  That he still honored his vows despite the legal fact that he was no longer married.

He doesn’t mourn Juliana anymore, and he knows that something is growing between the two of you now, but what does it mean?  Would it be right to sleep with you, knowing that this is just circumstantial?  That it may end at any moment?  That if you both weren’t in WitSec, you’d have never met, and might have never liked each other if you had?

Is this thing growing between the two of you only the result of being flung together by circumstances out of your control?

All of those questions rapid-fire through his head, and you seem to see the doubt in his eyes because the moment deflates.  The energy and anticipation sour, and he sees it on your face.  Your soft smile falls, and then you nod to yourself, as if you knew it would happen like this.

Then you smile again, thank him softly for his help handing out candy.  You stretch towards him and brush the lightest of kisses against his cheek, and you step around him to go to your room.

When Horacio goes to bed, it takes him a long time to fall asleep, and he swears you must be awake too, separated only by the wall between you.

-----

The eighth month, November.

Your department at the university puts on a wine and cheese social, and spouses are encouraged to attend.

“We never really practiced our cover story,” he says as he bends over to tie his dress shoes.  “Do you remember all of it?”

“I have a eidetic memory.”

“Yeah?”  He glances up at you.  “You’re full of surprises.”

“Don’t sweat it.  It’s a bunch of tenured professors.  They love to talk about themselves and nothing else.  They are all narcissists of the worse variety.”

But you aren’t entirely correct.  The party is at the house of the department chair, and Horacio finds himself cornered by a pair of fellow lecturers.  They are older women, charming and gregarious, and they sing your praises…and his own.

“I can see why she’s kept you hidden away,” says the taller of the two.  “She said you were handsome but—”

“You make a gorgeous couple,” the shorter one cut in.  “And she’s brilliant, you know, she planned out this—”

On and on they go, cutting each other off, redirecting each other, not letting Horacio get a word in edgewise.  It’s not far off base from how you explained it would go, and when he catches your eye from across the room, you smile but mouth, “you okay?”

He nods, smiles back at you. 

The evening is halfway over when he realizes with a start that he hasn’t cased the room once. 

He hasn’t counted the exits and windows, hasn’t studied the egresses and any obstacles to them.  He hasn’t scowled at each face to try and determine what dirty secret they held, if Escobar or one of his men had compromised them or their family.  He hasn’t studied the lines of their clothing to see who might be hiding a piece.

What does it mean for Horacio Carrillo to lose his edge? 

It’s another question he ponders at night, since the minor disaster of Halloween.  He knows he hurt you by hesitating in that moment in the hallway, but it’s a subtle hurt.  He can see it in your eyes each morning, the way they study his face as if you could perhaps read his thoughts if you watch him closely enough. 

More and more, these questions plague him because there’s no easy answers.  Horacio is used to solving problems, but he’d be the first to admit that many of his solutions were just brute force.  Displays of power.  The Search Bloc has a problem?  Send in men, armed men, men with guns and night-sticks, men with flint in their souls, men with hearts cased in granite.  Send in Colonel Carrillo himself to a clandestine meeting place where a suspect is strung up.  What’s a little light torture and murder when the fate of a country hangs in the balance?

That man is dead now.  Horacio Carrillo received a state funeral, and his empty coffin lies in the mausoleum.  Davide, his replacement, spent the week wrapping tender saplings in burlap in anticipation for the coming snows—all the while considering his place in the greater world and what his legacy may be.

At the end of the evening, Horacio finds you, brings you your coat, holds it out while you shrug your way into it.  When the two of you leave, you pass the pair of lecturers who had cornered him, and their exchange is like a Greek chorus that follows him home.

“He is handsome, isn’t he?” says one.  “She’s a lucky woman.”

The other one scoffs lightly.  “He’s the lucky one.”

You must not hear them because you don’t react.  You only let him lead you to the car, and when he brushes away the light dusting of snow with the snow brush, his eyes find yours through the windshield—and you smile at him.

-----

The ninth month, December.

The university shuts down for most of the month, and Horacio is on an abbreviated schedule a the nursery. 

The two of you have so much time together.

Horacio has seen snow before, but never like this.  Vermont, so green when he arrived, is swaddled in thick layers of white like cotton batting.  It absorbs and reflects sounds in weird ways, and a hush falls over your little home.

Being Colombian, he should hate it.  He should curse the cold and the snow and the quiet, but it does something to his soul.  It soothes him in a way he never would have guessed.  True, the cold is difficult at first, but you take him to the mall one weekend and load him up with sweaters and thick woolen socks, and he’s better after that.

Everything is so calm.  Peaceful.  Horacio has never slept so well in his life, bundled under layers of blankets, even on the uncomfortable daybed.  He sleeps, he doesn’t dream, and he wakes up naturally, in slow measure, to a soft light creeping across his bedroom floor.

Being on break, you still wake up early.  Earlier than him, some days, and when Horacio wakes to the scent of brewing coffee and something delicious baking in the oven, he wishes sometimes that this was the afterlife.  He wants to freeze the moment in time and never let it slip past him.  He wants nothing more, in this moment.

He’s always half-asleep those mornings, but the smell of food draws him out.  One morning, he pads out to the kitchen in his thick socks and startles you when he grumbles “good morning.”  You shriek, then swear, then lightly try to swat him with the spatula in your hands, but he’s still half-asleep, still incredulous that this is his life at the moment, and he takes the spatula from you and pulls you into a big bear hug.

“What’s this for?” you ask.  Your words are muffled against his chest, but after a beat, you wrap your arms around his midsection and hug him back.

“Just because,” he replies.

You spend your days doing puzzles, reading, listening to music.  You watch “Days of Our Lives” with him and you both laugh at the bad cosmetics and even worse acting on the demonic possession storyline.

Your evenings are spent cooking dinner together.  You make the trip into town every few days, and you rent movies and watch them too.  You watch everything together—old Hollywood classics, campy horror, meandering romances.  The two of you sit on the couch side by side, and it takes all of a day before you’re tucked in against his side, his arm firm around your shoulders.

Sometimes he glances down at you and sees your face in profile lit by the flickering light of the television.  Sometimes he can make out the edge of your scar, but he doesn’t linger there.  Instead he takes in the whole of your face—the curve of your cheek, the sweep of your lashes as you blink.  When something funny happens on the screen, you smile, and it makes Horacio’s heart stutter in his chest to see it.

What does it mean for Horacio Carrillo to fall in love?

Another question to ponder.  Another riddle to solve.  He’s losing sight of the man he was.  Maybe that man is completely lost already.  The thought doesn’t unnerve him; he thinks he likes the man he is here.  He likes the man he is with you, the job that coaxes life into being instead of snuffing it out.  He likes wearing cable-knit sweaters and thick socks and eating the banana bread you bake on mornings you don’t have to work. 

He likes sitting on the couch with you and watching a rental VHS of “Beetlejuice.”  He likes the feel of your body pressed against his, and he likes looking down to see you smile.

That’s the night he dares ask for more.

After the movie, you do your usual pre-bedtime sweep of the house—locks, lights—then brush your teeth and go to your room.  The usual quiet click of your door closing.  Horacio, as usual, goes to his room, peels back the layers of blankets, prepares to tuck himself into the cramped bed….then doesn’t.

Instead, he returns to the hallway.  He taps a finger on your door, a soft staccato, and he hears you call out, “Davide?”

“Yes.”

You tell him to come in, and you’re sitting up in bed.  Your eyebrows are furrowed together. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He shakes his head.  How can he begin to explain it?  He’s fluent in English, Spanish, and Portuguese, and his Italian is passable, yet not a single language he knows can capture the maelstrom of emotions roiling through him.  He loves you, he wants you.  He’s afraid you don’t feel the same for him.  He’s afraid you do feel the same for him.  Is this just situational or are you truly the woman he was meant for all along?  Has he gone mad?  Is this some tame mental breakdown, the result of coming close to death and then finding himself, improbably, in Vermont with a woman who also was near death? 

From your “one true thing” game, he knows you’re a polyglot too—English and Spanish and Russian—but that shake of his head to your question seems to transcend the need for language.  You seem to read it exactly, the turmoil in him, and you climb out of bed slowly, make your way over to where he stands by the door.

You reach down and take his hands in yours, and the touch bolsters him.  Reassures him.  He’s Horacio and Davide both, and you’re both Gwen and yourself, and he doesn’t need to parse the two.  He can be both with you.  You’re both complicated people with complicated pasts, but none of it matters right now because the world is swathed in layers of snow, and the two of you are the only two who exist in it.

Neither of you say much else for the rest of the night.  When you turn your head to peer up at him, Horacio tilts his head to kiss you, and it’s like a bolt of lightning when he does.  Maybe he fell in love with you by small moments, but this is the moment that seals it forever:  this first kiss, his mouth on yours, writes your name—your real name, even if he doesn’t know it—on his heart like a line of fire.

You each lead the other back to bed; you tug him, he pushes you, and you fall gracelessly back on the rumpled covers, but each kiss, each searching touch peels back another layer of reserve.  Horacio slides his hand under your shirt and cups the softness of your breasts, pinches lightly at your hardened buds.  You slip your hand under the waistband of his flannel pajamas and grasp his growing erection, stroke it into full hardness as he groans into your mouth.

There’s no art to it.  No seduction.  You’re both starving for each other, ravenous, and you both kiss the other as you each strip out of your layers.  He kisses down your neck, nips at your pulse point like he did on Halloween.  He licks against the hollow at the base of your throat, draws the sweetest goddamned moans out of you, then returns to kiss you, to lick against the inside of your mouth so he can feel the sounds you’re making too.

If he’d known how vocal you were in bed, he would have summoned his courage months ago.

Your mouth is on him too.  It’s another line of fire, each press of your lips on his bare skin.  He finds himself on his back and you astride him.  He reaches up to touch your bared breasts, but you don’t even notice because you lean down, focused only on him.  Your mouth on his neck, along his stubbled jaw.  You kiss his collarbones, his chest.  You bite lightly against his nipples, your teeth making him huff at the sensation, and then your warm tongue laving him.  Further down, a trail of kisses across his belly, which is less firm than it was in his Search Bloc days but you make a pleased noise as your mouth places wet, lingering kisses there.

Then even lower, and this is uncharted territory.  Love-making with Juliana was only ever for the purpose of making children, and while Horacio had convinced her a time or two to go down on her in the interest of foreplay, he never has received head in his life.  Juliana had called it dirty, and he had left it at that.

He doesn’t even register it until he feels your hand grasp him at the root of his cock, then feels the smallest, most kittenish little lick of your tongue against his leaking tip.

“Dios,” he groans out, and then he feels the rest:  your tongue tracing a pattern along the length of him, then a teasing rhythm where you work him into your mouth.  First just the tip.  You lavish him with attention there, suckling against the most sensitive part of him, lapping up the pre-cum that leaks from him.  Then more and more and more; you work him into your warm, wet mouth, and he feels your breath tickling against his groin, feels you breathing carefully through your nose as you take him as far as you can, and then you swallow against him, you hum against him, and it’s nothing like he’s ever felt before.  You press your tongue against the underside of him and you hollow your cheeks, and when your warm palm reaches up to lightly fondle his balls, Horacio’s orgasm breaks around him like a tidal wave.  His hips judder once, twice, and he thinks he warns you, but you don’t move.  You only hold yourself there, and when he comes, you swallow every drop of him, and he wishes he could explain this feeling to Juliana:  that it doesn’t feel dirty at all.  It feels like a sacrament.  That it feels like love.

It's only fair that he shows you his love for you in turn.

Once he recovers, he flips you onto your back and repays you in kind.  He kisses his way down your naked body, makes a note of all the spots that you moan at.  Make a note too of all the scars that speak to a life a lot like his was in Colombia.  He kisses your scars, presses his lips to each raised ridge as if he can take away any lingering pain.

Then he settles between your legs.  There’s no shyness he can detect; you spread your thighs eagerly for him.  You allow him to put a pillow under your hips to tilt your pelvis into a more agreeable angle.

He’s not especially skilled at this.  The handful of times with Juliana had been a race against the clock—a sprint to coax her to orgasm before she gripped his hair and made him stop.  There’s no clock now, so he takes his time.  He settles your legs on his shoulders and he bends his head to your gorgeous pussy, and he takes his time.

He licks against your folds, then reaches down to part them with his fingers.  Licks a slow, tortuous route from the firm bud of your clit to your entrance.  Over and over and over until you squirm underneath him—then he slides a finger into your clenching heat, then another, then a third, and he feels how your pussy twitches against the intrusion, how you grab against his fingers like you’re trying to pull him deeper into you. 

He fingers you in a lazy rhythm, and he circles his tongue against your clit.  That does something for you; you whine out a curse, and a moment later your hand is on his head, your fingers tugging against his hair, so he purses his lips, suckles against your clit, and that turns your whine into a wail.

He wishes he could tell Juliana this too, that this isn’t dirty either.  When you come, he feels a flush of pride at drawing pleasure from your body—your thighs tight against his head, your pussy clamped down on his fingers, and the slick cum that pulses from you, that coats his tongue and lips in the taste of you.

He’s hard again, but he wouldn’t press his luck.  This is more than he ever dared hope for.  He’d be happy to curl up with you now, to fall asleep beside you, but when he lifts his head from where he’s perched between your thighs, he sees you gazing back at him.

“Please,” is all you say, and he knows what you’re asking for because he wants it too.

If there’s an argument about this being two people pushed together because of circumstances beyond their control, there’s also an argument about the two of you fitting together so well.  Because you do.  Your body seems like it was made for his; you fit together like two jagged puzzles pieces.  Horacio settles over you, lowers his body onto yours, and it’s like magic:  his cock bumps against your inner thigh, but he moves half an inch and he finds your wet heat, and then he’s pushing into you, feeling your feverish flesh part and mold to the shape of him, and then your legs are around his waist, holding him to you as he bottoms out inside you.

He stills for a long moment.  He’s unable to move.  It’s not because he’s afraid he’ll come too soon but because he’s afraid he might cry.  Horacio Carrillo is not a man who cries (maybe Davide is), but gazing down at your face, seeing the stunned love written in your expression, he nearly cries at how lucky he feels.  How blessed.  That shootout in the Medellín alley should have killed him, yet here he is.

Eventually, you give him the faintest of nods, and he starts to move.  He’s gentle at first.  He warms you up to the feel of him, and him to you.  You lay one hand on the side of his face, cupping his cheek as he thrusts into you, but the other hand settles over his heart.

He could love you like this forever.  He coaxes a second, then a third orgasm from you, and he watches your face during each one—the way your eyes go wide, then close tight, the way your mouth takes a hitching breath then goes slack as you breathe through it.  The look on your face as it ebbs away, your eyes shiny with tears, and happy little smile curving your lips.

“I want you to come,” you whisper to him.  You must feel the tension in him, and you bear down on his pistoning cock to urge him along.

“Where?” he pants out. 

“Inside me.  Please.  Come inside me.”

He knows you’re safe.  He’s lived with you for nine months now, and he’s run enough errands with you to know that you have that little plastic compact you pick up from the pharmacy once a month.  He sees you swallow the same pill each morning with your vitamin.  But still—he’s a man with his history, so he doesn’t register your contraceptive use in this moment.  The thought comes to him that if he comes inside you, he may make you pregnant, and Horacio is surprised by how quickly the thought urges his orgasm forward.

“You sure?”  At your words, he’s amped up his thrusting, driving forward in deep, strong strokes until he swears he can feel the crown of his cock nudging against the end of you, and the thought takes hold:  you round with his child, the two of you in this bedroom with a child in the guest room converted into a nursery.  At this moment, it’s the tamest of breeding kinks, but in the morning, he’ll realize it’s just more of this perfect life extrapolated.  You not as his pretend-wife but as his real wife.  A child as tangible proof that this isn’t just an incongruous moment in time.

“Yes.  Please.”  You lick your lips, blink up at him.  “I-I want to feel you coming inside me.”

It’s only fair that he obliges you.  You ask so nicely, so he does:  he thrusts three, four times more, then feels his pleasure snap and spark up his spine as he fills you.

Then he collapses on top of you, and a moment later, he feels your fingers combing through his hair, lightly running over his back.

“You can sleep here, if you want.”  You say it shyly, like you think this might just be a physical release for him, so he lifts his head to kiss you and reply that he wants that very much.

Horacio never sleeps in that cramped daybed again.

-----

The tenth month, January.

What does it mean to Horacio Carrillo for the lines between real and pretend to blur?

It means that through Christmas and into the new year, you live as husband and wife.  You live as newlyweds.  You make love in every room in the house, and you spent lazy days tangled up together.  It means you draw straws to see who has to drive into town for provisions, and it’s all a joke anyway because you always go together.  It means your world collapses down into the most basic of human needs:  feeding and fucking. 

It means that between love-making, the two of you share more about your real lives.  Horacio learns about your family life.  He learns that you’re CIA, and you’ve been stationed in Panama post-Noriega.  He learns that it was an explosion, a car bomb outside of your headquarters, that left you with that scar on your head.

You learn about the Search Bloc and Escobar.  You learn about his childhood as the son of a great military leader, and how that legacy shaped his own life and career.

But what does it mean when that line blurs?

It means that when Johnson returns to your lives, everything ends abruptly. 

“Everything is all clear,�� he tells you when he turns up one Saturday in the middle of January.  He sips at the cup of coffee you made him, and if he notices the stunned silence of both of you, he doesn’t remark on it. 

“Escobar was gunned down early today.  It hasn’t hit the wire yet.”  Johnson glances at you.  “And the group that bombed your HQ has been cleared out too.  You’ve been safe for a few months, but we didn’t want to upset the situation here.”

“So now what?” you ask, and Horacio feels sick to his stomach as Johnson explains that your old lives are waiting for you and that it’s time to go.

-----

The end comes that day, but not the way Horacio thought it would.

You gesture to Johnson after he gives the rundown on the logistics, and the two of you go outside.  Horacio watches from the kitchen window as you cross your arms against the cold.  You talk, Johnson listens.  Then Johnson talks, you listen.  Back and forth, and by the end Johnson shakes his head, shakes your hand, and returns inside.

“Okay, so change of plans,” he says, and he rubs his hands together briskly to bring the warmth back to them.  “It’s just you and me now.  Go pack and say your goodbyes, and I’ll be back in an hour.”

He leaves, and Horacio watches him pull out of the driveway, and when he turns back to the interior of the house, he sees you standing there.  Crying openly, tears cutting tracks down your face.

“I can’t go back,” you explain, your voice thick with tears.  “I won’t.”

Then you break down into sobs, and it’s second nature to stride over to you, to pull you into his arms.  He tries to soothe you—rubs your back, holds you to him—as you choke out the words.  That you have had a crisis of conscience.  That you wonder if your work in the CIA did more harm than good.  That you think it’s the former, and how you want to spend the balance of your life not doing more harm than good.  That you want to live in a quiet town that is green in the summer and swaddled in white in the winter.  You want to teach, you want to come home to a house with….and you catch yourself at the last minute.  You don’t say it, but Horacio can guess it.

You want to come home to a house with him in it.  You want to come home to him.

“I love my life here,” you amend hastily, but you push away from him, aware he’s leaving and that your life won’t be exactly the same either way.  You mumble something about not wanting to say goodbye, about wishing him the best, and then you disappear down the hallway.  He hears the click of the door and your crying, and it doesn’t abate while he packs. 

When Johnson returns, Horacio taps on the bedroom door, but you don’t answer and he doesn’t push it.  He’s sleepwalking through the moment, numb, so he leaves.  He doesn’t say goodbye.  He only climbs into Johnson’s rental car, and each mile that Johnson puts between you and Horacio only makes the numbness grow.

“Women, huh?” Johnson says as they near the airport.  “That’s why I said they should never take field work.  They don’t have the stomach for it, in the end.”

Horacio grunts a non-reply, but he thinks Johnson is off the mark.  It’s not that you don’t have the stomach for it.  It’s that you don’t have the heart.

-----

February.

He goes from Vermont to Miami, this time around.

Horacio is given a hotel room, and he’s given the orders to just chill for a bit.  Johnson has extricated him from his fake life as Davide, but his old life as Colonel Horacio Carrillo isn’t quite ready for him yet.

There are mountains of paperwork to bring a man back from the dead.  There’s talk of giving him a cushy role in Madrid.  There’s talk of commendations, medals, a comfortable pension to retire on.  He’s done a lot for his country of Colombia, and Colombia wants to reward him.

He sleepwalks through this liminal space.  The not-Davide, not-Horacio time.  He wanders the streets around the hotel and picks at the food he orders in restaurants, and each time he hears a woman speak, he looks up expecting to see you. 

I don’t even know her real name, he thinks. 

Gwen, his one-time pretend-wife.  Gwen, who had a panic attack on her country’s birthday.  Gwen, who questioned the harm she may have caused to another country, another people.  Gwen, who only wants the chance to do a little good now, or at least to do no more bad.  It wasn’t Gwen at all, but he has no other name to use, so he runs through all the lovely little moments he had with Gwen.

Watching for you to return from your daily jogs.  Walking through the falling leaves of autumn with you.  Making you coffee, pressing the steaming mug into your hands each morning.  Handing out candy to the children at Halloween, tucking you under his cloak at the autumn chill.  Watching movies with you as the snow fell outside, then curling up in bed with you, slotting his body against yours, giving you pleasure and taking pleasure from you in equal measure.  Threading his fingers through yours as he arched over you, his eyes falling on the glinting light in the gold band in your ring finger, it’s twin on his own.

What does it mean for Horacio Carrillo to finally make a choice?

Of course he’s made choices before.  Every day, he made a million choices, large and small.  But the big stuff, the giant stuff, the life-shaping stuff—did he have much choice?  His father’s military career pretty much guaranteed his own career in the Search Bloc.  His family’s status pretty much guaranteed he’d marry a Catholic girl from a family of similar standing.  And when Juliana chose to leave him, he really had no choice then, either.

Same with his pretend life of ten months.  He had no choice in being paired with you, no choice in ending up in New England, little choice in working as a man who tended trees.

He imagines you in your shared home, alone.  Johnson explained on the plane that you’d be able to buy the place, that WitSec only rents homes across the U.S.  He explained that this has happened more than once, and that it’s actually not too difficult to let a witness slide into their pretend-life permanently.

The choice comes down to the most mundane thought.  Horacio stands in his hotel room in Miami and wonders, who will make her coffee in the morning if I’m not there?

*****

Winter always loses its charm by the time February rolls around.  The fleecy white snow turns into grey slush, and everything is cold and soggy and depressing.

Davide leaving doesn’t help at all.

You knew it would end eventually.  You didn’t have much insight into his situation, but you knew that the cartel targeting you would be easy enough to neutralize.  They were only there because of the power vacuum left behind by Noriega, and they were poorly organized.

You just thought when it ended, you’d have more time.  Which is one of your fatal flaws, always thinking you’ll have more time.  Your father died from a heart attack when you were in high school, and your mother died from a car crash when you were in college.  You, more than anyone, should realize that time was never a guarantee, yet you always think you have a surfeit of it.

It's not your proudest moment, those final minutes with Davide.  Not falling apart in a wash of tears, and not fleeing to your room.  You should have committed to one extreme or the other.  You should have either calmly explained your decision and bade him farewell…or you should have given in to the emotion of the moment and spilled everything.

Why do you never learn your lesson?  You never had a chance to tell your parents that you loved them before they died.  Why didn’t you tell Davide you loved him before he left to return to whoever he was before?

You know you could find him.  You’d caught his lightly accented English and guessed at South America.  Colombia, if he was hiding from Escobar.  He told you about the Search Bloc.  You knew some people in that theater.  You could find him and tell him that you loved him, but would it do more harm than good?  Doesn’t he have the right to return to his previous life without any baggage from this one?

February, then:  grey, cold.  You go to work.  You teach your classes and hold office hours.  Political science can create real monsters, so you gently try to steer your students towards the path of diplomacy and not war.  Maybe this is how you make amends, if such a thing is even possible.

You go home each evening and pull together a sandwich for dinner.  Sometimes you get take-out, and you eat over the sink.  Sometimes you watch T.V. and sometimes you read, but you always sleep alone with Davide’s pillow clutched to your chest, the lingering scent of him fading away within days.

-----

Then March.  The snow starts to melt a bit, and under some of the trees in your backyard you start to see the little purple and white jewels of budding crocuses.

You resume your runs in the mornings.  The campus shakes off its doldrums too and the students seem livelier.

You made the right choice to stay.  You go to the bank with your real name and get a mortgage.  You buy the house under your real name, and you go to the university human resources and hand over the paperwork Johnston gave you, and it’s weird at first, explaining why you’re not really Gwen, but it shocks you how quickly people adapt to using your real name.

-----

March is still fresh when there’s a knock at your door one Saturday morning.

Your first guess is that it’s a delivery.  Johnson promised to ship all of your stuff from your apartment in Panama City.  Not that you have anything valuable, but it would be nice to have your record collection back.  You don’t want to have to rebuild that from scratch.

You’re already out of practice from your prior life.  You don’t bother to check who it is, don’t look out the window before you open the door, and so it’s a shock to see Davide standing there, his fist lifted like he’s about to knock again.

He drops his hand and opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.  You are speechless too, but you don’t need words to because as he drops and unfurls his hand by his side, you see the way the gold ring on his finger catches the morning light. 

He’s still wearing his wedding ring, you think, and your body moves towards his, you leap into his arms and he’s there to catch you.  You breathe out his name, but he chuckles, pushes you gently away from him.

“No, cariño,” he replies, shakes his head.  “Not Davide.”

“Well, no.  I mean—”

“I’m Horacio,” he interrupts.  You reply with your own name, and he repeats it, almost to himself.

“Everything else was me,” he adds.  “Everything but the name.  What we had…”  He trails off, fixes you with that dark-eyed stare of his. 

“Everything else was me too.”  All of the bare facts of your fake life as Gwen hold little weight to that nebulous everything else:  every joke and shared laugh, your Fourth of July panic attack.  The feel of his hand on your waist when you went apple picking.  The way his hair curled after a shower, and how you loved to run your fingers through it when he fell asleep beside you.  All of it.  Every stupid little moment that most other people would have already forgotten. 

Horacio holds up his hand to show you the ring you’ve already noticed.  “I never took it off.  It didn’t even occur to me to.”

You hold up your own hand.  “Me neither.”

He looks away, squints his eyes as he looks off into the distance, but you swear you can see tears there.  He clears his throat, but his voice comes out rougher than usual.

“I’d like to see if I’m as good a man as Davide was,” he says.  “I’d like that chance, but only if you…”  Another cough as he clears he throat, then continues.  “Only if you’ll have me.”

You reach out and take his hand in yours.  You touch the warm metal on his finger, then the thought comes to you.  You slide the ring off, and you feel Horacio watching you.  On the plane, you each put your rings on yourselves, but that wasn’t how it was supposed to go, was it?

Now, nearly a year later, you take his wedding ring off.  For a long beat, you study it—it’s a simple thing, nothing elaborate.  WitSec wasn’t going to waste money on an expensive ring for a fake marriage, and it already has a shallow scratch in it, likely from his job at the nursery.

Then you lift your head and gaze at him, and without breaking eye contact, you slide the ring back on his finger.  The smile that spreads across his face when you do is enough of a promise as any vows recited in a church, and he repeats the motion with your own ring—takes it off, then slides it back on with intention.

And then, because there’s no priest there to give the order, Horacio bends down and kisses you for the first time as himself, and the first time as yourself, and perhaps you learn your lesson about time after all because the moment you part, you whisper, “I love you” to him.

And perhaps he needed to learn the same lesson because he sighs, pulls you closer to him, and whispers “I love you too.”

[artsystudiofinds]

Excited to share Eye of Horus carve moldavite ring handmade in silver in antique style ...

[lady-embers]

Disproving the narrative of 'Azriel won't get his own book' + Who Will His Love Interest Be?

When asked if Azriel would get his own book... this was her answer:

In another live she mentions she knows who the next book is about but wouldn't mention if it was a male or female main character, but there will be a pegasus in it, and again she said it was pretty obvious!!

When she was asked a question about Azriel's shadows she had this to say:

"When it's time for HIS story to be told"

^All that proves Azriel will get his own book, in my opinion and..

As for who his love interest will be?

Well... this is her answer on characteristics that an enticing love interest would have...

Who is it that has Azriel feels a spark in his chest for in the bonus scene of HIS (which takes place between Ch.58/59 of ACOSF)? Gwyn.

Who is it that Azriel attention is fixed on more and more after feeling that initial spark in the bonus scene throughout the rest of ACOSF? Gwyn.

Who is it that has history with Azriel, as well as her own history left to still be explored? Gwyn. Reminder that Sarah wrote that Azriel was the one who saved her, slaughted the soldiers without hesitation, and even gave her his cloak to cover up with.

Who is it that can challenge Azriel and has bantered with him? Gwyn.

I also found this question in a live and her answer interesting when it comes to the Valkyries bracelets:

She went with her 'spiritual gut instinct' as to what colors she associates with the characters.

And in the scene with these three making the bracelets in Chapter 59?

Gwyn's bracelet: Blue, White, and Teal.

What do I think these colors could mean?

Blue for Azriel. Teal for Gwyn's eyes.

White for her powers (to compliment Azriel's darkness) or even when Gwyn does feel worthy of the Invoking Stone (which is also Blue). Gwyn even mentions this about the Invoking Stone in Chapter 15:

“It’s an Invoking Stone.” Gwyn unfurled her fingers, revealing the gem within her hand. “Similar to the Siphons of the Illyrians, except that the power of the Mother flows through it. We cannot use it for harm, only healing and protection. It was shielding us.”

And there is this to when Gwyn was holding the stone: It fluttered with light, like the sun on a shallow sea.

The Invoking Stone is similar to the Siphons of the Illyrians.... Gwyn has a Blue Invoking Stone that matches with Azriel's Siphons and the Invoking Stone is used for healing and protection, which is the perfect counterpart to Azriel killing...

Also, in regards to that earlier picture where she mentions the next book and a pegasus....

Who in ACOSF was most loved by a certain pegasus? Gwyneth Bedara (P.S. this was revealed during the ribbon cutting scene in Chapter 60, which I will post below, and again happens after the bonus scene takes place.)

"As if it had been following one path and now branched off in another direction" and "Right then and there. That's when it all changed." <--- This to me is Sarah telling us her plans changed and in this scene both the world and Azriel paused/stilled..... and he stilled as if aware that far larger forces peered into the ring as Gwyn moved.....

I think it's clear after reading ACOSF that Azriel will get his own book given how much he was prominent in it, and taking into account the bonus scene, and what happens after..... Sarah has shown us who his love interest will be.

These two will heal and grow, both individually and together, and I can't wait for their story to be told. 🥰❤🥰

[esoteric-chaos]

What is Banishing? The How-Tos and Methods

Banishing is a direct form of expelling energy or spirit from your space. Used to get rid of a specific energy, spirit, or person. Can even be used to banish a bad habit if you really wanted to. It is a strong form of defensive magic versus cleansing which is more of a brush out the door. Banishing is you picking whatever up by the scruff like a wet cat and throwing it out the window.

You can incorporate cleansing and banishing methods together. Make it spicy, get the job done in one go.

Here are some banishing methods that are within my grimoire.

Spiritual

Smoke - Burning Dragons Blood, Frankincense, Hyssop, Rue, Cedar, Juniper, Blackberry Leaves and Pine are great herbs to burn for banishing and purification. You can also make a herbal spray as well.

Candles - Banish from your space using corresponding banishing candle colours like Black.

Herbs - Can be made into satchels, jars, sprays, spellwork and other items for banishing.

Sigils - Create a banishing sigil for your space, self or working.

Powders - Powders like GTFO powder are great examples for banishing's

Witches bells - Witches bells hang on your doorknob or on your door (inside the home) for protection and banishing. When someone comes into the home it rings, banishing negative energy.

Spells - Return to sender, uncrossings and freezer spells are good examples of banishings. Write the target's name on a black candle with intention, dress with corresponding oils, and write a petition to place under the candle to effectively banish them from your space/life.

Energy - Visualize a powerful bubble of protective light of any colour. Visualize it pushing out of your chest and visualize it burning up the energy and pushing it out of your space. Can be energy-taxing so please drink some water and eat a snack.

Black salt - Salt (I use sea) mixed with charcoal, eggshell powder and protective & purifying herbs. Used in warding, banishing and protection. Please be careful around pets with salt as they can get sick if eaten.

Physical

Baths/showers - Submerging yourself in water with banishing herbs and oils. You can also shower with banishing herbal soaps and hang a mesh satchel with purifying herbs over your shower head.

Physical - Literally taking pots and pans, screaming to get out of your house. Both annoying to the neighbors and effective for spirits.

Vocal - Prayer to deity/ancestors/guides/etc for assistance. Prayer from a holy book. Incantations are normally followed by another action like ringing bells.

Feel free to place your banishing methods below!

Looking for all of my posts in one place? Check out the Masterpost

[magickkate]

We'll uncover the enchanting world of bells in witchcraft in today's topic. Bells are utilized for cleansing, protection, summoning spirits, and enhancing rituals. Let's look into their rich history, deep symbolism, and practical applications in magic. Warning, this is a bit of a long post, be prepared to read :)

What are Witch(es) Bells?

Magical bells are small, often ornate instruments used in witchcraft to produce sound vibrations that carry specific intentions. These bells can be made of various materials such as brass, bronze, or silver, and they often feature intricate designs and symbols. The clear, resonant tones of bells are believed to carry powerful vibrations that can cleanse, protect, and communicate with the spiritual realm.

Historical and Symbolic Significance

Historical Roots:

The use of bells in spiritual and religious practices dates back thousands of years. They have been used in ceremonies across many cultures, including ancient Greece, Rome, China, and India, to invoke deities, ward off evil spirits, and mark sacred time.

By the Middle Ages, bells were commonly used in churches and monasteries throughout Asia and Europe. They were believed to scare away evil spirits with their loud sounds.

In modern witchcraft, bells are often used as tools for spiritual protection and purification. They may be rung at the start of a ritual to clear the space of negative energies or to signal the end of a ritual. Bells are also used to call forth the spirit of a deity or to invoke the elements.

Symbolism:

Sound and Vibration: Bells symbolize the power of sound and vibration, which can influence energy fields, cleanse spaces, and elevate spiritual awareness. The word "bell" translates to mean "to roar" or "to make a loud noise" (think bellow)

Divine Masculine and Feminine Energy: The significance of male and female anatomy in the use of bells in witchcraft is rooted in symbolism. The bell’s body is often seen as representing the anatomy of a female, while the clapper represents the anatomy of a male. This symbolism extends to the idea of the bell’s body representing the womb and the clapper representing a child within. This union of male and female elements is believed to create a powerful protective amulet. The combination of these elements symbolizes the unity between yin and yang, male and female, and the Divine Masculine and Feminine. This balance and harmony are considered essential in many magical practices and rituals. This unity creates powerful and protective energies.

Communication:

Bells are often seen as tools for communication with the divine, spirits, and otherworldly beings. Their sound is believed to transcend physical boundaries and reach the spiritual realm.

Protection:

The ringing of bells is thought to drive away negative energies and entities, creating a protective barrier around the practitioner and their space.

Choosing and Consecrating Your Bell

Choosing Your Bell:

Select a bell that resonates with you both visually and audibly. The tone should be pleasing to your ear and evoke a sense of peace or power. Consider the material and craftsmanship, as these can influence the bell’s energy and effectiveness. Many bells are made with iron, brass, bronze, aluminum, or "bell metal", which is ~75% copper and ~25% tin to help make a sturdy, long-lasting bell that also produces a resonant sound.

Consecrating Your Bell:

Cleansing: Cleanse your bell to remove any unwanted energies. This can be done by passing it through incense smoke, sprinkling it with salt water, or placing it under moonlight. If you choose to use saltwater, be sure to dry it thoroughly as the type of metal of your bell could tarnish if the water remains on it over time. Be mindful! :) Charging: Hold your bell and focus on your intentions. Visualize it being filled with your energy and purpose. Blessing: Recite a blessing or incantation. For example, "I consecrate this bell to serve as a tool of cleansing, protection, and communication in my magical workings." This is just an example of a way to perform a blessing or consecration of this item for your practice. You are welcome to adjust this to your practice. It is best to make clear your intentions for the use of the objects in your magickal toolbox such as these bells.

Practical Uses of Bells in Witchcraft

Cleansing and Purification:

Ring your bell to cleanse and purify your space. The sound vibrations can dispel negative energies and create a harmonious environment. Walk through your space, ringing the bell, and visualize the sound waves sweeping away stagnant energy.

Protection:

Use your bell to create a protective barrier around your home or sacred space. Ring it at the entrances and corners while setting the intention of protection and safety.

Ritual Enhancement:

Incorporate the bell into your rituals to mark the beginning and end, or to signify transitions between different stages. The sound can help to focus your mind and elevate the ritual atmosphere.

Summoning and Invocation:

Bells can be used to summon spirits, deities, or elemental energies. Ring your bell to call upon the entities you wish to work with, inviting them into your space with respect and reverence.

Meditation and Focus:

Ring your bell before meditation to clear your mind and set the tone for a focused, serene session. The sound can help to shift your consciousness and deepen your meditative state.

Cord and Knot Magic:

Use the bell in cord and knot magic to charge your cords or knots with sound vibrations. Ring the bell as you tie each knot, infusing it with your intention and the bell’s energy.

Caring for Your Bell

Regular Cleansing:

Regularly cleanse your bell to maintain its energy. Use the same methods as when you first consecrated it.

Storage:

Store your bell in a safe, sacred place, such as on your altar or in a special box. Treat it with respect as a powerful tool in your practice.

Respect:

Your bell is a sacred tool. Avoid using it for mundane purposes or allowing others to handle it without permission.

Bells are magical tools that harness the power of sound and vibration to cleanse, protect, and communicate. By incorporating bells into your practice, you can elevate your rituals, create sacred spaces, and connect with the spiritual realm. Use them with intention and respect, and their enchanting tones will guide and support you on your magical journey.

[working on some info updates, will add sources/citations when finished! thank you for your patience.]

Share your experiences and tips with using bells in the comments. Let's continue to learn and grow together! 💜

[thebadboyfanclub]

Master list

I want to preface this by saying I’m sorry for forcing y’all to having to scroll to find my imagines this took like two days to make, also I hope you were not expecting some fancy and beautiful list I am not that talented but this will do the trick.

Also everybody needs to thank @pearlstiare cause she quite literally took me by the hand and walked me through the entire process out of the goodness of their heart, so thank you for being such a wonderful person. Without further or due, enjoy!

Part two of the masterlist

Full list of the characters I write for

Aemond Targaryen

You Are No Dragon

All For The Motherland

My Little Sea Snake

The Apple Of His Eye

Do You Love Me?

‘Till The Seven Rings Of Hell

Take Care Of Me, My Love

I Would Be Honored

Grow Forever, Never Yield

I Will Do It

Lead The Way

Lady Wife Falling Asleep Headcanon

Aegon Targaryen

The Man You Deserve

I Spill My Blood For You

What’s Your Name?

I Want To Try

After You Little Pet

Queen Of My Life

Lady Wife Falling Asleep Headcanon

Jacaerys Velaryon

Do You Want this?

Part One

Part Two

Lady Wife Falling Asleep Headcanon

Cregan Stark

My hearts soldier

My Beloved Wife

Daemon Targaryen

My Moonlight

You Bled For Them, You Decide

Part One

Part Two

An Eye For An Eye

Your Sweet Princess

Are You Mad?

The Death Of Me

She Has Your Eyes

Left Or Right?

It Is Time

What Are You Waiting For Then?

My Turn

We’ll Finish This Later

The Sunflower Of Highgarden

A Risk Taker

Gods Have Mercy

My Dragon

Lady Wife Falling Asleep Headcanon

Tywin Lannister

I Got You, Little Wolf

The Bloody Princess

Massimo Torricelli

Fire And Flame

Part one

Part two

Part three

Part four

Part five

Sherlock Holmes

It’s Alright Darling

You Are Family Now

Napoleon Solo

I Got You

Henry Cavill

The Lady Of The House

Part one

Part two

Let Me Have This

Geralt Of Rivia

Protect The Queen

Part one

Part two

There’s Nothing Wrong With Submission

The Dream

Part one

Part two

You Are My Home

Rio

You Can Do Better

A Boy, A Girl And A Game

You Are My Light

She Will Learn

Pete Davidson

The Sun And Moon

Dating Pete Davidson (Spiritual Edition)

Cedric Diggory

You Sneaky Little Fox

Draco Malfoy

We’ll Get Caught

Carlisle Cullen

What’s For Dinner?

Do I Have To?

One Way To Find Out

Just Like You

Of Course Precious

What’s Your Biggest Fear?

Off To Bed For You

Aro Volturi

Lamb For Slaughter

Emmett Cullen

Sir, This Is McDonald’s

That’s My Girl

Edward Cullen

Let Me Do Better

Jasper Hale

Pleasure Is All Mine

Niklaus Mikaelson

You Started This?

Part One

Part Two

My Little Cub

Our Love Is Eternal

Mess Is Mine

Sounds Like Heaven

Maybe It’s Better This Way

Elijah Mikaelson

I Quite Enjoyed It

We’ll See About That

Kai Parker

You’ll Be Fine

See You Around Honey

Excuse Me?

Ivar The Boneless

She Is A Lady

Harwin Strong

I Promise

Look At Me, Princess

I Would Like That

Khal Drogo

Stay With Me

[bitter-bats-cult-of-the-moon]

What is Toxic Spirituality?

Spirituality is the practice of getting to know yourself better on a deeper level and learning about the world around you.

While this can provide physical, mental, and emotional health benefits, it can also take a turn for the worse. Sometimes spirituality can push harmful messages, toxic positivity, judgment, gaslighting, and cultish behavior.

Nine Toxic Spirituality Habits

1.   Spiritual Bypassing and Toxic Positivity

Spiritual bypassing is when you use spiritual concepts to avoid certain emotions or situations in your life. 

Toxic positivity is when you believe you need to be always positive to gain proper manifestation of your desires.

Suppressing emotions can lead to a buildup of unprocessed thoughts dependent on circumstances, and eventually you will mentally implode.

2.   Spiritual Narcissism

Spiritual narcissism is the belief that your spirituality makes you better than others. It’s the Us vs. Them mentality.  

The stronger your ego identifies with a specific belief the more difficult it will be to see any issues.

3.   Idolizing Spiritual Teachers 

The best teachers are the ones that help connect you to your inner self. Their goal is to act as a guide more so rather than be the ultimate truth. 

The trouble idolizing spiritual mentors is that there will be a point you’re going to disagree, and it will cause cognitive dissonance if you see them for more than they are.

4.   Superstitions and Attachment 

If you heavily rely on spiritual practices, items, and rituals to exist in the world and become solely dependent about superstitious beliefs linked to any of them, you are diminishing yourself.

You don’t need crystals to protect yourself.

You don’t need the wand to draw energy.

You don’t need the cauldron to burn incense or make potions. Although, even I can admit having one makes things more interesting.

5.   Hyper Discipline

I see this a lot. There are those that talk about the importance of discipline in spirituality. Likewise, I see others talk up the importance of flexibility.

Spirituality is a personal experience. If disciplined daily practices or rigid rituals work for you, then great, but if it feels forced reconsider things.

6.   Lack of Discernment

Not every spiritual practice will be right for you. Not everything will resonate. Not every metaphysical concept will ring truth. That’s good. It’s healthy to ask questions and think for yourself.

If you accept without question, you’re allowing yourself to be programmed by external forces becoming conditioned.

7.   Clinging to Truth

What’s true for you may not be true for someone else, and what was true for you last year may no longer be true for you today. 

Our beliefs can change over time as we learn and experience different facets to spirituality. Fighting for the word of truth or standing behind a specific religion promoting acts of war is an act of blasphemy. In that regard, belief and religious culture do not always coincide.

8.   Emotional Hypochondria

It’s possible to become attached to your own healing, making you feel the need to become a better, and better version of yourself.

Always overanalyzing everything will lead to an emotional burnout, and you will be hyper aware of every single feeling.  You will become self-depreciating, and you will be running in a circle like a silly hamster in its wheel going nowhere.

9.   Manic Manifesting

Shut up about manifestation.  I’m tired. It’s everywhere.  Constantly visualizing your desires, parroting affirmations, and trying to control every single frequency makes it feel manic.

Thinking on what you don’t have will make you see less of what you do have, and it is like beating yourself up mentally every day for those things you do not have.

Thinking on it without action is an obsession. The secret was a fun concept for a book, but unless you put it into actual action. There will be no change, Laws of physics, every action has a reaction. Because thinking is more like potential energy, but that still needs an activator. No one is going to miraculously fix things for you. You can do worksheets on what you want every day for the rest of your life, but at the end of your life you will have nothing you want except a pile of worksheets with your hopes and dreams that never happened.        

Diminishing Toxic Spirituality

If you’ve been participating in toxic spirituality, own it and grow from it. Be mindful of your intentions, ask questions, and navigate your experiences.

When something isn’t working you will know it, when you realize that something is wrong, it may have already set you back. When something keeps replaying in your mind, maybe that’s an area to work on. Or delve deeper, but with an analytical mind, rather than one that accepts everything. It’s like eating at a buffet. You can see the chicken is green, you can smell its rancid. But the person with you says it’s good. Are you going to take that at face value and trust them, or make your own choice?

Correct motivations for spirituality, belonging to a group is great. They help people feel connected, and it gives joy to be able to connect. While it is not for everyone, some people see the appeal in it, but as a result can become absorbed into the group and lose their individuality. Their need to be accepted can drive them to poor decision making, at the expense of their autonomy due to peer pressure.

Some go into practice to fuel their ego or have something unique and quirky to talk about. If it’s a fad, it probably isn’t the best idea. If you must run around yelling to your bullies at school, I'm a witch I will curse you. That is likely not the right reason to delve into a spiritual journey. While it may be doing it for your own sense of internal control over an aspect of your life, the journey becomes more about what you have against others, rather than delving within yourself and finding yourself.

Money, Power, Quick fixes. Spirituality and religions offer seemingly quick results with fake promises. Love spells, Churches, Community support. While in theory sounds too good to believe. Often the promises made by various people, groups, and sectors of religion can be very appealing; at times it is used for the profit of the people providing the services.

You would be surprised how many people offer snake oil, or a djinn in a ring for money. To give you all you want. If you are looking for your life to magically be alright, please remember this isn’t a modern fairytale.

Happy endings happen in movies because they can’t fit it all into an 80-minute run. There's character development, there’s ups downs, trials and moments of success and happiness. Without those moments, we don’t really discover who we are. We are more of a hollow once off character in a movie playing a role. We do not find us; we do not create... an Us in such a short time.

It’s best to be yourself, and not part of some collective.

The spiritual journey is yours so do it for yourself.

[clamityganon]

I would have him with no lube, no protection, all day, all night, from the kitchen floor to the front lawn, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the back porch to the roof, vertically, horizontally, quadratically, exponentially, and logarithmically as i gasp for air, scream and see the light at the end of the tunnel. I’d do missionary, cowgirl and reverse cowgirl, doggy style, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in a bed, on the couch, on a chair, while I’m pinned and held against the wall, in a dark unfinished basement, in a train car, in a plane bathroom, on a motorcycle, in the back of a pickup truck, on a trampoline, in a pool, bent over or standing up.

I would give him the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, fist clenching, ear ringing, drooling, eye rolling, mouth watering, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth chattering, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, beastly, lip-biting head.

I want to have gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, nail scratching, spectacular, brain cell dissolving, show stopping, magnificent, unique, artistic, extraordinary, splendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, spiritually enlightening sex with him. He could unironically say the world's worst pickup line and i'd still ride. He could put a nuclear bomb inside my house and I'd still ride. He could send me into a mountain of debt that I could never recover from and I’d still ride.