#spring tool suite

[layaispunk]

OOH OKAY could you write one where reader is trying on bikinis for dbf Joel and things get hot and heavy and he’s an absolute MUNCH?

love your writing!!🫶🏾

spring cleaning with dbf!joel

pairing: joel miller x female!reader

a/n: thankyou to all of you who sent fic requests! i'm working on them one by one. ♡

wc: 1.5k

warnings: unprotected p in v smut, 18+ minors dni, established relationship, dbf!joel (could be any joel you want) age gap not specified, reader does not live with parents, dirty talking, lmk if i missed something pls

Joel had only meant to stop by and fix the damn window.

That was the plan, anyway. Show up, use the tools that were permanently stashed in his truck, tighten a hinge here, swap a pane there.... and go home. Easy.

Except now he was sitting on the edge of your bed, hands planted on either side of his thighs, watching you dig through a little drawstring pouch.

It was just supposed to be spring cleaning. You were going through all of your stuff because you were moving out, and you put two boxes. Keep, and donate. Joel was in your bedroom, surrounded by half-filled boxes and open drawers and clothes you’d been flinging over furniture all afternoon.

You looked up from the pouch with a grin, one of those expressions that always knocked the wind out of him.

“I totally forgot I had these.”

You reached in and pulled out a tiny scrap of bright fabric. Then another. And another.

Joel blinked. "What're those, baby?"

“Bikinis,” you said, laughing, spreading them across the bed. “God, I used to collect these. I haven’t worn half of them since college.”

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing a hand over his jaw. His eyes caught on a black one with gold rings at the hips, and his brain short-circuited a little.

You looked over at him, casual as anything. “Should I just donate all of them?”

Joel cleared his throat. “I mean… seems like a lot.”

“I should try them on first,” you said thoughtfully, holding one up to your chest. “See if they still fit or if I still like 'em.”

He gave a small, helpless laugh. “I think that's a good idea, sweetheart,”

You turned, already walking toward the bathroom. “Yeah. D'ya wanna be the judge of which ones I keep?”

His head tilted. “Oh, is that how this is gonna go?”

You smirked over your shoulder. “You did offer to help today.”

“Didn’t know that meant sittin’ here helpin' you spring clean,” he grumbled, but his eyes were already following you. Your hips swaying just a little more exaggerated as you disappeared around the corner.

When you came back out, you were in a red two-piece that Joel immediately knew would be etched into his memory until the day he died. It was the kind with a halter top and those little low-rise ties at the hips. It looked like summer and sex and trouble, and suddenly Joel wasn’t sure if he was breathing properly.

You twirled, hands on your hips. “Too much?”

He didn’t answer. Just stared.

Your lips curved. “Joel.” You stepped closer. He let his gaze travel, slow and deliberate, over your bare thighs, your stomach, the soft curves of your chest. When his eyes met yours again, they were darker. Hungrier.

“Well?” you asked, coy. “Keep or donate?”

He gave the faintest shake of his head. “Darlin', if you think I’m lettin’ you give that away, you’ve lost your mind. It really suits you.”

You bit your lip, barely able to hide the way your body lit up under his stare. “Want me to try the next one?”

He nodded, voice low. “You go on ahead. I’ll be right here.”

Right here. On your bed. Palms getting sweatier by the second. Heart thudding like he was twenty years younger and hadn’t already spent countless nights with you.

He adjusted how he sat, legs a little wider, eyes fixed on the doorway as you turned to disappear again. He tried to look casual, like he wasn’t dying inside. Like he hadn’t just watched his girl stroll out of the bathroom like she belonged on the cover of a vogue magazine.

You were gone for less than a minute before your voice floated in from the bathroom.

“You better not be falling asleep out there.”

He huffed out a laugh. When you finally stepped out of the bathroom, he looked up and went completely still.

This one was different, black and white polka dots. The top had better structure, cupping your breasts just right, giving you that kind of shape that made his mouth go dry. The thong bottoms were black, sitting high on your hips and left your legs bare all the way up.

You stood there in the doorway, adjusting the strap over your shoulder like you didn’t know what you were doing.

Joel leaned back a little and exhaled through his nose. “That one’s trouble.”

You tilted your head, giving him puppy eyes. "You don’t like it?”

He gave a small shrug. “Didn’t say that.”

You smiled. “You’re allowed to have an opinion, you know. That’s why you’re here.”

“Thought I was here to fix your window,” he muttered.

You walked further into the room, standing a few feet in front of him. “Yeah, but you already fixed that. So now you're helping me.” You grinned.

He let his eyes trail up, slow and unhurried, until they met yours again. “Mm. Should’ve charged you extra.” He muttered, sarcastically.

“For what?”

“For this.”

You snorted. “You’ve seen me naked before, Joel.”

“I know,” he said, nodding. “Still feels like you’re settin’ me up.”

You folded your arms. “How?”

“You're showin' me bikinis and askin' which ones to keep, but they all look like that. What exactly am I supposed to say?”

You raised a brow. “That it fits?”

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees again. “It fits.”

You bit your cheek to keep from smiling. “Comfortably?”

He gave you a pointed look. “Sweetheart, you’re wearin’ a piece of string for the bottoms. There's no way that's comfortable."

You laughed, turning around to check yourself in the mirror behind him. Joel couldn't stop staring at you.

“I think this one makes my boobs look better,” you said thoughtfully.

The bikini looked good, but you couldn’t decide if it felt right. If you liked the cut. If it made your hips look weird. If the color washed you out.

Joel was still sitting on the bed, hands braced behind him, watching you with that quiet look he always had when you got like this. Overwhelmed. When your brain spun out in circles and you couldn’t settle on a damn thing.

“That one’s a yes,”

You turned to him with a frown. "Joel, If you're gonna say yes to all of them, I’m gonna end up keeping every bikini I’ve ever owned.”

Joel gave a half-shrug. “Baby, I'm sorry. I think you look incredible in all of them.”

You let out a frustrated sigh and turned back toward the mirror. “I just… I don’t know. I can’t tell anymore. I've been getting rid of things all day, I can't decide anymore."

His voice came quieter this time. “C’mere.”

You looked over your shoulder.

“I mean it. Come here.”

You hesitated for a second, then stepped over to the bed, standing between his knees. Joel watched you for a beat, his hands resting loosely on his thighs.

“Sit,” he pointed to his lap.

With a soft huff, you eased yourself onto him, your thighs settling on either side of his. Joel shifted slightly, accommodating your weight, hands coming up to rest gently on your hips.

You let your arms drape over his shoulders, your chest still rising and falling a little faster than usual from the back-and-forth with yourself. Joel’s gaze flicked up to meet yours.

“Better?”

You nodded slowly. “I'm overthinking everything. I know I sound dramatic, but I feel exhausted.”

His thumbs brushed a slow arc along the curve of your waist. You let yourself breathe a little easier in his care. "I understand, baby. You've been cleaning around all day." The contact, the warmth of him, the quiet way he listened without rushing you, grounded you.

Your hand slipped up into his hair, absently scratching your nails along his scalp. Joel closed his eyes at the feeling, his chest rising beneath you in a deep, slow breath.

You stayed like that for a moment, just breathing together. Just his arms around you and the quiet.

Then you said, softly, “I need a break.”

Joel opened his eyes again. “Then take one, baby. I’m right here.”

You leaned in and kissed his cheek. Then the corner of his mouth.

Your hand slipped from his hair to his jaw, your thumb brushing over the stubble there. You kissed him properly now, soft, slow, lips barely parted.

Joel’s hand tightened on your waist. “You sure?” he murmured, voice low, eyes not leaving yours.

You nodded. “I just want to feel good for a minute. Want you to make me feel good."

His forehead pressed to yours. “Then I got you.”

Joel’s hands slid up your back, slow and warm, before trailing back down to your hips. He kissed you deeply, with his hand cupping the back of your neck like he wanted to hold you still for a second, keep you grounded in him.

“Lay back for me,” he said, voice low and steady. “Just let me take care of you.”

You moved without hesitation, easing onto your back on the bed. Joel followed, kneeling between your legs, hands already on the drawstrings at your hips.

He glanced up once, gaze catching yours, waiting for any sign to stop. When you didn’t give one, he tugged slowly, the little bow slipping free.

He dragged the thin string down your legs with that a gentle touch, then he pushed your thighs apart and settled in between them like he belonged there.

“Just relax, baby,” he said, kissing the inside of your thighs, higher and higher. His hands held you firm, thumbs pressing just enough to spread you open.

You breathed out shakily, head tipping back into the pillow as he kept going, mouth trailing up your thigh like he was in no rush at all. One hand slid up your stomach, slow and steady, until his palm cupped your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple in lazy circles that made your hips shift, desperate for any kind of friction.

“Joel…” you murmured, voice soft but tinged with a hint of frustration.

He smiled against your skin, his beard scratching gently at your thigh. “Mm? Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?”

“You’re teasing me,” you said, a little breathless.

“Yeah, honey, I am,” he said, kissing the curve where your thigh met your hip. “You been runnin’ around all day, stressin’ yourself out… Thought I’d slow things down for you a little. Let you breathe.”

Your hips shifted toward him, aching for more and needing him closer. "Joel. Please.”

He looked up at you through his lashes, lips still pressed to your inner thigh. His voice was low and steady, thick with want. “You don’t need to beg, baby. I’m gonna give you what you need.”

His hands smoothed along the tops of your thighs, firm and steady as he settled in lower. "You just relax for me now,” he said, voice darkening just slightly. “Let me take care of this perfect little pussy, yeah?”

Your breath hitched, thighs twitching under his grip. Joel pressed a kiss right over your center, slow and steady. You whimpered softly, hips lifting, and Joel just groaned against you.

“Jesus,” he muttered, half to himself. “You’re soaked, baby. That for me?”

You nodded, fingers curling into the sheets.

“Thought so,” he murmured. “Been sittin’ on my lap lookin’ like that, all soft and pretty… You knew what you were doin’, didn’t you?”

His voice was all gravel and heat now, words brushing against you like a caress. “Gonna make you come on my tongue, sweetheart. Not stoppin’ till you’re beggin’ me to.”

And finally he leaned in, and his mouth was everywhere, like he wanted to memorize the way you sounded, the way your body moved beneath him, how your hands tangled in his hair and pulled him closer.

His tongue dragged slow and deep through your folds, his hands teasing your nipples, as he groaned against you. “That’s it,” he murmured, voice low and rough between licks. “Just like that, baby. You sound so fuckin’ pretty when you moan for me.”

Your hips rolled toward his mouth, needing more, and he let you use him like that, his hands firm on your thighs.

“Could have you like this for hours. Don’t even think I’d stop.”

You whined at that, fingers tangling tight in his hair.

“Look't you,” he said, lifting his head just barely, his mouth slick and lips pink. “All worked up from my tongue. You needed this, didn’t you?”

You nodded, breathless.

Joel ducked back down, his mouth sealing over you again, and without warning you felt one thick finger slip inside you, then another, slow and careful.

You gasped, your whole body jolting. Joel moaned like it turned him on just to feel how tight you were around his fingers.

“Yeah, there you go,” he rasped, his fingers curling just right as his mouth moved with purpose. “So fuckin’ tight, baby. You're takin’ my fingers so well.”

His pace picked up just enough to make you squirm, the push of his fingers matching the soft suck of his mouth. He was everywhere, relentless and still somehow gentle, reading every sound that came out of you like it was a guidebook to your pleasure.

“Let go for me,” he murmured again. “Come on my fingers. Let me feel how bad you needed this.” Your thighs were trembling now, chest rising fast, lips parted as little gasps and moans slipped out without filter.

Joel’s fingers never lost rhythm. Slow, firm curls, each one dragging right against that spot that made your vision blur. His mouth moved with purpose, tongue working you over like he’d studied exactly how to pull you apart.

You felt it building, tight and fast, curling low in your belly and your hand gripped his shoulder like you were holding on for dear life.

“Joel,” you gasped. “Joel, I’m—”

He lifted his head just enough to say it against your skin, voice rough and steady.

“That���s it. Give it to me, baby. Come for me.”

That pushed your orgasm over the edge. Your whole body tensed, a moan breaking from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you. Joel slowed a little bit, coaxing you through it, fingers still moving while his lips kissed your inner thigh, murmuring soft praises into your skin.

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” he breathed. “So goddamn perfect like this. Let me feel it. Just like that.”

Your head collapsed on the pillow, thighs still twitching, chest pressed to his shoulder.

He pulled back slowly, fingers sliding out, slick with your release. "You alright?” he asked softly, voice gentler now.

You nodded, still catching your breath. “Want you up here.”

"You want my cock now, baby? You got me fuckin’ rock hard," he murmured, voice rougher now. His hands tightened on your hips, thumbs rubbing small circles over your skin.

After he got undressed, with one firm hand he lined himself up carefully before sliding in, every inch sending fire through you both.

He began to move, slow at first, making your eyes roll back. "Fuck, Joel." He caught your moan in his mouth, biting your lower lip gently before pulling back just enough to whisper, "Gonna fuck you real nice and slow, baby,"

His hips rolled into yours with more force, every thrust deep, while his hands explored your body like he was memorizing every curve.

“You like that, don’t you? Feel so damn good wrapped around me.” he rasped, voice thick with desire.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, arching your back as he drove deeper, slower, each thrust measured to build you higher.

“Come on, let go for me,” he urged, voice rough and low, “Let me hear you, sweetheart." The coil inside you tightened, heat spreading fast until you shattered around him, trembling and gasping. Joel held you through it, hips still grinding steady, until his own breath hitched and a deep growl rumbled from his chest.

With one last slow, deep thrust, he followed, gripping you tight and burying himself fully as his release rolled through him. He collapsed against you, forehead resting on your shoulder, voice softer.

Joel pulled back just enough to smile at you. “You keep me busy.”

You nudged him lightly. “I don’t hear you complaining.”

He chuckled. “Nope. Lucky me.”

You rested your head on his chest, feeling h heartbeat.

Joel’s hand moved slowly over your back. “Want to rest? I’m here.”

You shook your head. “I’m fine. Just want you to stay a little bit longer.”

He smiled. “I’m not going anywhere.”

ty for reading<3 requests are open!

[lostinlovingrevery]

Domestic bliss with Logan 😵‍💫😵‍💫

Hubby

Logan Howlett X Reader

Married life suits him

A/N: Thought of this ask today while I was working on a build project and came up with this!!! Enjoy <3 I want to be married to this man- also any Logan could be imagined, but Origins certainly has hubby vibes doesn't he? :)

Warnings: Married life, a lil short thing about mutants, suggestive ending ;), Logan nesting like crazy

"They're just people, mutants are just people with special abilities. I don't hold that against them! They deserve a normal life as everyone does-"

The talk show host rambled on and on. The usual spiel over mutants and their place in the world. Men in suits talking about the rights of people again; as if they were God and had any choice in what a man did and didn't deserve.

Logan wasn't really listening to it though. Background noise that he tuned out for the most part. He just liked having the old radio playing, kept him from drifting too far into his mind.

Occasionally it would start to static, losing it's connection and he'd reach over and bang on it- mess with the antenna. You've offered a hundred times to buy him a brand new radio, but he's insisted that this was perfectly fine. Why waste the money?

The smell of cigars and cut lumber filled the space- his workshop. Inside what was actually a barn at one point, but no animals to keep in it yet. You want goats and chickens- he plans to surprise you with a few baby chicks around late spring- once he gets a chicken coop built.

He puffed on his cigar a few times, before blowing smoke up into the air, while he examined the drafts he's been working on all morning. Dusty and smudged from multiple times he's had to erase and redraw lines he's messed up. He ashed the cigar on a glass tray, sticking it back between his teeth as he creased his brows in focus- reading his notes, observing his sketches- picking at details he forgot or needs to change.

He's building you a reading room. You don't know that yet. A nice cozy room, with lots of windows for sunlight, and walls with built-in shelves for all your books and knick-knacks you could never find space for. Putting it on the east side of the house- so you can watch the sunrise, your favorite time of day.

Least he could do, after spending the last few weeks building the dining room and driving you crazy with all the dust and bare walls and tools scattered over the floor- alongside some other messes.

He picked up the sound of your footsteps crunching against the gravel outside. Lifting his pencil, he added a few more notes to his drafts as he waited for you to try to sneak up on him- as you always do. Trying- and failing to surprise him, a little game you had with him for years.

You were being awfully quiet. Though the sound of your heartbeat always gives you away. He was always listening to it, a sound that brings deep comfort to him- no matter how far you were.

Once he discerned how close you were, he removed the cigar from his lips, setting it onto the tray and turning to look at you with a quirked brow.

You immediately froze at his stare, a plate full of food in your hand. Your shoulders became hunched and you pout.

"You can't pretend at least once to be surprised by me?"

"Even if you know better?" He asks.

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer and proudly presenting the plate of food that you've been cooking all afternoon for him.

"Lunch."

"Mm." He observes the plate, taking it from your hands and setting it atop his drafts- concealing it from your eyes. His hand went around your waist and pulled you close. "Looks good." He hums, eyes trailing up and down your figure- and you knew he wasn't talking about the chicken salad you made.

You giggled, leaning forward to peck his cheek, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Working hard?"

"Me? Nah. "

"Mm." You smiled, before glancing over at the papers, not paying any particular mind to them. "Don't be out here too long, okay? I miss you."

"Promise." He looks up, and gives you a sweet smile, and leans forward to give you a peck on the lips.

You began to walk away, but he caught your hand and pulled you back to him, pulling you into his lap with ease, eliciting giggles from you as your arms wrapped around his neck. "What was that?"

"Take a look." He reached over to the workbench and moved his lunch out of the way, giving you a proper view of that smudgy construction drafts. You leaned forward, his hands holding you securely in his lap while you examined the drawings and notes.

"Is this..."

"Yeah."

You looked at him, a knowing smile on your face. "I thought you said you were done building for a bit- especially after the incidents with the dining room."

He dropped the circular saw while it was running. Created a big gash in your new flooring- he hasn't fix that yet. Then he accidentally knocked over a can of paint that spread out and leaked into the carpet in the other room- replacing the carpet is on his list. Accidentally broke a window, just have cardboard taped over the panel for now.

He was handy, but he was not agile.

"This is different." He says. "It's for you."

You looked at him in surprise. "Lo, you don't have to-"

"I know. I want to. You deserve it, love."

You bit your lip as you felt heat blooming in your cheeks.

This man always finds a way to make you flustered.

Looking back at the plans again, your fingers fiddled with the collar of his flannel. "Well... If it's going to be outside for the most part, I guess I can't complain."

"I'm sure you'll find something." He teased.

You gasp, hitting his chest playfully, but he caught your hand and pulled you closer so he could kiss you. You both start laughing, mirth escaping you as you kiss.

His hands pulled you closer into his lap, and your pecking kisses melted into something messy and deep. His hand that rested on your thigh traced up your body, down your arm, and over your hand that was pressed to his chest, where he felt the ring he's given you not long ago, resting where it rightfully belonged; his own ring brushing over it.

"Mm." You hum as you parted from him with a soft smooch. "Why don't you take a break from this, spend some time with me?"

"Sounds perfect." He hums, his arms scooped you up from his lap as he hopped down from the chair, carrying you out of the barn, to your country home that you share with Logan.

The radio host droned on in the now empty barn.

"These....people, mutants, they have feelings! They- They hurt, they go through a lot of pain. They love too! They have family, friends, people they care about. So what if they can do special tricks that some of us can't?" The host carried on, "They have a right to live their lives, and to live it happily."

[crushpunky]

actress!reader: get ready with me for the met gala

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

the highly requested, drew and actress!reader at the met gala. check out the moodboard for more insight into their looks <3

“Good morning everybody,” y/n said groggily as she sat up straight in bed. The lights of the hotel room were dim as she spoke, the morning light just barely filtering in through the curtains.

“We are waking up bright and early today because” —y/n paused dramatically—“it is the Met Gala!”

Y/n heard a small groan, turning her head to see Drew looking up at her from his pillow. His brows were furrowed as he blinked up at her. Y/n grinned, looking over at him, but keeping the camera away from his sleepy, shirtless body.

“So, we are going to get some breakfast and coffee in us, then the madness begins.” Y/n wriggled her eyebrows before setting the camera aside.

Immediately, Drew’s arms snaked around her torso, pulling her closer. He dug his face into her stomach, resting his cheek against her skin as he took in a deep breath.

“Good morning.” Y/n said sweetly, scratching her manicured nails against Drew’s scalp. She had gotten them done the night before, the black and red acrylics coming to a coffin shape that made Drew hum as they traced along his scalp.

“G’morning.” Drew grumbled, grinning sleepily up at y/n. Y/n giggled at his groggy face before resting her head back against the headboard. The two of them sat in each other's presence for a while, basking in the quiet morning before the chaos that would inevitably ensue for the rest of their day. Eventually, the serenity was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Nooo.” Drew groaned, pulling y/n closer to him as she moved to get up.

“You’re gonna have to get up eventually, might as well get coffee out of it.” Y/n said, brushing Drew’s hair back as he looked up at her. He rolled his eyes, relinquishing his grip on her before flopping onto his side of the bed with a dramatic groan. Y/n laughed before climbing out of bed. She quickly slipped on an old t-shirt and slippers before getting their breakfast and coffee from the door.

Y/n carried the tray over, placing the spread carefully on the bed. Eggs, toast, fresh fruit, and whatever breakfast food they could possibly imagine sat between them as they chatted and drank their coffees. They had an hour or two before their teams would get here, whisking them away from each other for most of the afternoon as they got ready before reuniting them just before the red carpet began.

The intimate breakfast helped to quell a bit of the nerves that had already begun to spring up. The two of them had never attended the Gala before, and the enormity of the event was certainly weighing on them despite their simultaneous excitement. Millions of eyes would be on them, picking apart every little aspect of their outfit or hair or makeup or— god forbid— their relationship. However, the two of them felt comfort in the fact they weren’t alone in their worries, with teams of people to support them as well as each other.

Y/n sat in a chair, her hair pinned back as her makeup artist shuffled around behind her. After their breakfast, y/n and Drew had taken an extravagantly long and especially thorough “everything” shower. No corner left unchecked and stone left unturned, they completed their prep just in time for their teams to arrive. Drew was whisked away to a separate suite, bidding y/n a farewell with a kiss to the cheek before leaving her to begin her hair and makeup.

“Guys, we are now in the trenches.” Y/n laughed as she filmed herself in the mirror. The counter in front of her was covered with various products and tools, her makeup artist working diligently on her look.

“Taylor, my wonderful makeup artist for the evening, has been working her ass off for the past hour, y’all, and I am so excited.” Y/n smiled as Taylor brushed a bit of eyeshadow along y/n’s eyelid. 

“She’s a magical woman, I mean look at this.” Y/n says, turning her head to show off her skin in the mirror. Taylor chuckled to herself as she focused on y/n’s makeup.

“It helps when I have such a wonderful face to work with.” Taylor grinned, gesturing to y/n’s face. Y/n laughed, shaking her head bashfully. Suddenly, y/n noticed someone popping their head into the doorway in the reflection of the mirror. Drew bit his lip as his eyes raked over her.

“Damn straight, look at her.” Drew said, stepping into the doorway. He wore a fluffy white robe, his hair freshly trimmed and styled and y/n’s lunch in his hand.

“Hey, what’re you doing here?” Y/n asked, craning her head back to look at Drew as he peered down at her.

“Had to make sure everything was under control over here.” Drew said, resting one of his hands on her shoulder and squeezing gently.

“Taylor’s taking good care of me, I promise.” Y/n smiled.

“I can see that.” Drew said. “You look beautiful, baby.”

“Thank you, don’t look too bad yourself, Starkey.” Y/n said. Drew blushed as he sat y/n’s lunch in his hand down atop the crowded countertop.

“Enjoy your lunch, I’ll see you a little bit.” Drew hummed, leaning down to press a quick kiss to y/n’s hair before heading back to his own suite.

The afternoon went on, Taylor finishing off y/n’s makeup. Her skin was done with contour and highlights that accentuated her natural features and her eyes were carved out with smoky red tones and dark liner (INSPO/INSPO). Her hair was partially swooped back, adorned with small embellishments (INSPO/INSPO). 

After her hair and makeup was finished, she carefully put on her outfit. She wore a black blazer bodysuit that showed off her legs, the hem and sleeves detailed with lace and clustered crystals. Bunched at her hip was a red skirt that trailed behind her, woven with different patterned fabrics (INSPO).

“Wow, I am so, so happy with how this look turned out.” Y/n spun around in front of her camera, showing off each and every aspect of her look.

“Shoutout to my amazing team of stylists and hair and makeup artists and everyone involved for making this possible, I am so grateful.” Y/n smiled, smoothing her hands down the front of her outfit.

The time had finally come for Drew and y/n to see each other's completed looks.

Y/n’s heart pounded as she walked through the lobby of the hotel, attendees and assistants looking over their own looks and adoring each and every person that passed by. Immediately, y/n’s eyes met Drews from across the room. His lips parted slightly as he looked over her in awe. Y/n stared back at him, the two of them admiring each other's outfit as they started walking towards each other.

Drew wore a well tailored suit with a vintage, dark red and green pattern. In place of a tie, he wore a brown scarf that fell down to his waist (INSPO). A golden earring adorned his ear and a dazzling smile graced his lips as the two of them finally met. Drew’s hands immediately found her waist, pulling her close to him as he continued to stare at her in silent amazement. Y/n chuckled slightly, smoothing her fingertips along the lapel of Drew’s jacket.

“You look amazing.” Y/n murmured, grinning up at Drew. His eyes finally flicked up to meet hers, his cheeks flushed.

“You look… I’m speechless.” Drew chuckled, rubbing a hand along his jaw. “Seriously, you look so fuckin’ good.”

Y/n’s cheeks warmed, smiling bashfully as she took a small step back from Drew. His hand snaked around her waist to rest on the small of her back. They stood side by side as they waited patiently (and nervously and excitedly) for their car to arrive, signalling the beginning of their night.

“Oh!” Y/n said, quickly digging into her clutch for her phone. She took it out, propping it atop a nearby table.

“Gotta get one last clip.” Y/n murmured to Drew, who chuckled.

“For the people.” Drew added, y/n guiding them each to take a step back to fully encapsulate their outfits.

“Thank you for getting ready with me!” Y/n grinned, waving goodbye to the camera excitedly. Drew lifted his hand, giving a small wave before the video ended.

[marvelgirlatheart]

not an angel: act one (Elijah “Smoke” Moore x Black!Reader)

a/n: a few things to note before you start reading this: THIS IS A BLACK!READER fic. And there is vulgar language (n-word) used in this. Y/N is not used in this fic or mini-series, so everything is free to the imagination! Also, I know, it might seem a little small with little happening but I wanted to hurry up and get this posted for you guys but don't worry, the other three parts will come soon. For now, sit back and enjoy a good fic.

not an angel (act i: the sun’s time)

word count: 3k

premise: a normal day for you, something that seems so boring. but maybe a greeting from two certain twins will cheer you up.

taglist: @heyyimmisunderstood

→ not an angel masterlist

——————☆

act i: the sun’s time

by: marvelgirlatheart

☆

“Love is of all passions the strongest, for it attacks simultaneously the head, the heart, and the senses.”

-Lao Tzu

——————

Clarksdale, Mississippi

1913

Everything seemed to be the same every day for you.

You woke up in the same dim room you have been sleeping in for years, now. The sunlight from the rising sun shone a gentle glow through the old window that had white paint, which now looked like an old grey color, chipping off.

The room was still and quiet… unlike the rest of the house. You were lucky not to share a room with your siblings. Otherwise, you probably wouldn't survive in this house you described as a hellish environment.

A quiet sigh slipped from your bed and under the old sheets – you. Damn, you had your days where you didn't wanna wake up. But you knew the thundering steps of your momma or worse, your daddy, would make their way if you weren't fast enough.

So, after what seemed like a lifetime of silence, you finally got up, the bed springs groaning beneath you as you arose like the dead, stretching in your nightie that your momma got you when you became of age, a woman, she said.

You yawned and let your arms meet over your head as you stepped on the old floorboards and to the window. You pushed the sheer curtain back to just take a look at the nature outside. Your house was closed off from the town of Clarksdale. Not too far from the point where you were completely isolated, but not too close where it took you a five-minute walk to get to the nearest market. But it was overall a lovely area to enjoy.

A forested area in the back of the house and an open dirt way that seemed to lead toward the sun. It almost looked like heaven was calling for you.

But that vision seemed to cut right out when you heard a voice from beyond the door. “Girl, if you don't get yo ass outta bed–”

“I know, mama!” Your body was now tense after hearing those words. “I know,” You repeated before you walked to your door. You grabbed a simple sweater to take just to cover yourself up before you opened the door and walked out, the upside-down hell of your family finally flooding your still dreary mind.

——————

“Mama, the skirt’s too tight!” Your little sister said as she stood on a wooden chair dragged from the kitchen and into the foyer of the cottage, where most of your tools were.

You were assigned as the ‘seamstress’ of the family. You had a gift with your hands, fast and quick in both the mind and at work. Your nimble fingers worked quickly, going from sewing to grabbing pins from your kinky and unruly hair that you yet have set for the day, something you knew your momma would get onto you for. You had an extra pin between your full lips as you stitched up the skirt you had been busy working on for a week, all because your little sister, Mika, wanted to show her little school friends how high she could jump from the biggest rock at the creek near their school.

This girl, I tell you. Your momma didn't even bother to respond to the little girl, knowing she was most likely being dramatic. She was too busy in the kitchen, making sure your daddy was set up for work while your baby brother ate his breakfast. The woman was strong, fixing your daddy’s suit that he got cheap from an old friend who used to work with a man who owned a cotton field, his job being to translate for any new people that came from overseas, specifically people from Africa. On her other arm was your baby brother, Eli, who was just born as the door opened for spring to come in the beginning of the year.

But damn your mother’s mind. And your daddy’s, as well. Always so strict with you, they were. They never let you out of the house unless it was for a quick job or an errand. You could never make that many friends, especially when you had to quit school to help around the house at such a young age. No people your age to talk to.

But no, soon… soon your chance of freedom would come–

“Come on! I’m tryna get to school on time.” Mika exclaimed to you, snapping you out of your trance. Your lashes fluttered against your cheek as you blinked. You looked up at the girl and smacked your lips. “Focus on gettin’ ya damn work done. Tryna play too fast for all ya little friends, but you know you’re failing your class,” You mumbled, going back to work to finish up the last bit of work, but your sister, being the snitch she was, just had to say something.

“Mama, she’s cursin’ at me!” She called out in her Mississippi accent. But before you could even say something, a voice came from the kitchen, not your momma but instead, the man of the house. He called your name, followed by more words. “If you don't quick gettin’ your sista, I’ll get on ya ass like my damn life depended on it,” A threat, not a warning.

You let out a quiet scoff and then sucked in your teeth, making sure you were quiet enough so that the man with super ears in the other room didn't hear you, before rolling your eyes, looking up to see Mika looking back down at you, her eyes that looked just like yours looking back at you, but there was a smug look in them with a smirk on her lips.

You wish you could pop that shit right out of her. But you weren't looking for trouble this early in the morning. You finished as quickly as you could, not caring how sloppy the lining looked toward the end before you got up, setting all of your tools down. “Get out of here,” You said, gently shoving her off the chair. She jumped off the chair at the push, not bothering you another glance before her little feet pattered against the wooden floor, making their way to the kitchen with everyone else.

With that, you were alone. You straightened out from your crouched position, hearing your bones pop as you moved before you went to the chair Mika was once on. Your bare feet, ashy from the floor, moved until you sat down on the chair your sister was once on.

You were slouched over the chair, your elbows on your knees as you took out the remaining pins from your frizzy hair, putting them in a tiny wooden box that had other trinkets in it to help you with your work. After the box was closed, you straightened out and crossed one leg over the other before reaching for the piece of bread you for for breakfast. You took a bite of the thing and looked around the room, just needing something to take your mind off of sleep.

And that seems to do the trick. The day goes on. Mika is gone for school, daddy is gone for work, and all that was left of you was your momma and Eli. But unfortunately, your momma could never give you a free day.

You were out all day with her and your baby brother, stuck in an itchy dress she told you to wear. You went through many places. The market, the church, and even a friend’s house that seemed to be scorching hot. You were left to watch the baby while your momma cooked with her friend, cackling like crows about something that went down in the church.

But finally… You were home. You know had Mika with you as the three of you, including Eli, in your momma’s arms, fast asleep after a day of heat and people.

Your daddy was still at work. You walked to the cottage, Mika talking about her school day while your momma just nodded and hummed at every appropriate moment.

They all got into the house for you, but you stopped at the second-to-last step, putting a gentle hand on the railing before you turned your head over your shoulder, your dark skin glowing from the sun that was now setting. Time seemed to go so fast now, from the sun rising and now this, the globe of light setting over the hill and trees of Mississippi. The sun setting was like a clock for you.

On Friday of every week, like clockwork, your close friends and twins of Clarksdale, Elijah and Elias, would be there to save the day. They lived completely different lives compared to you. They had fewer restrictions, maybe because they were men, they were seen more compared to the women of the town. But still, they got to do a lot that you weren't allowed to do. So, being the little badasses they were, they hooked you up. They took you out from time to time, letting you experience things you never thought you could do. Dancing, drinking, smoking… who knew a church girl in the eyes of her parents could do something like this?

You did. Now in the house, the sun was gone, set for the beautiful moon and its twinkling stars that seemed to follow right behind. Dinner was over, and everyone was in their rooms, getting ready for sleep.

You walked to your room after saying your goodbyes to everyone for the night. You looked tired, your feet dragging against the floor, and your body slouched as you walked down the tiny and dim hallway to your door. You grabbed the brass handle and turned it, opening the door and immediately closing it behind you.

You pressed your back against the door, just taking the time to stare at the window on the wall across from you. But then, your eyes travelled to the old, brown clock that was on the side table beside your bed. There, you saw the time and your eyes widened.

“Shit!” You cursed quietly. You were gonna be late. You went through every drawer from your dresser and every rack in your closet, but you weren't satisfied with what you were seeing.

The purple dress? Nah, you wore that last week. The red dress that usually showed a bit too much of your thighs? Nah, you were tryna look out those midnight whores who roamed the town late at night.

You went through everything before you finally settled for a blue dress, which immediately reminded you of Smoke. His favorite color. Maybe you could get something out of him tonight with it.

And with your pearl-white shoes. Oh, the man would fall to his knees for you before midnight. Now, here you were, standing in front of your mirror, making sure your kinky hair was just right and that you out the right amount of the red lipstick you snuck behind your momma looked good on you.

You had on your blue dress, the one that hugged your curves. The one you received the most compliments on. And plus… it was flexible enough for what you would be doing tonight. God, your mind was all over the place.

You straightened out your necklace, making sure everything was perfect, but just when you got it at the perfect angle, a rough tap against your window knocked it back in a crook.

But you couldn't care less about the damn necklace. You turned around and you saw a silhouette standing at your window, the figure too dark with the moon shining on the person’s back from behind. But you weren't scared. You were nervous, sure… but for reasons you wouldn't expect.

But most of all… You were excited. As quickly yet quietly as you could, you rushed to the window and pushed back the curtains and opened the window, making sure there weren't too many creaks to alert your parents before finally, you were met with a pair of brown eyes that you could stare into for hours.

Eyes that glimmered back on you and full lips that had that damn cocky smirk on them.

“Why, hello, ma’am,” Elijah said, gently tipping his black hat with a blue piece of fabric wrapped around it, and you couldn't help but feel giddy at the sound of his smooth voice.

You wanted to faint like one of those girls fainting at any man in Hollywood. “Hi, Elijah,” You said, your words almost dreamy, and his grin got even bigger.

But before he could say much, another voice, one much similar to his, sounded behind him and from the shadows.

“Nigga, save all that shit for later. I’m not tryna have a fuckin’ bullet launched in my ass,” Elias said, his head on a swivel to make sure no lights from the house came on and no footsteps sounded around them.

Elijah’s head turned at the sound of his brother, his brows slightly furrowing, but not out of anger, maybe mild annoyance. “Nigga, shut up,” He said but despite his words, he, just like his brother, looked around to make sure no one was around.

Then, he looked back at you, who was looking at the entire interaction with an amused smirk. His smirk came back at the sight of your amusement before he got closer to the window, offering you his arms.

“Come on, Ma,” He said, and that’s the only invitation you took. You looked to make sure everything looked appropriate for just in case your parents wanted to have a nightly watch around the house, before you looked back toward the window and started crawling.

You made sure you landed gently in Elijah’s arms as he grabbed you, setting you down on the windowsill before he took you down with him on the ground level.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms around his shoulders for support.

You were finally out the house. Elijah took a small step back, getting acclimated to your weight in his hold, but before he could do much, you out your hands to his cheeks and then pressed your lips against his, letting out a soft moan.

Elijah, himself, let his eyes close, one of his hands supporting you while the other went to the back of your neck, his lips moving against yours like clockwork. You could feel his tongue press against yours as you both shared a hot and passionate kiss. You two hadn't seen each other in a week, so of course you would greet each other like this.

You could hear Elias smacking his teeth at the sight, the man already impatient to get out, but Elijah couldn't care less now that your body was against his and your lips were on his.

But for air, he leaned away and pressed a gentle kiss on your neck. “Damn good to have you, baby,” He whispered and you breathed against his ear, catching your breath.

“Same,” You whispered, and then, you leaned back to get a better look at him before you let your legs weaken around his waist and you soon let your feet meet the ground.

“Damn…” Elias said, now approaching you two. “You two damn horny-ass people need to get a step on. Come on.” He said, and he didn't even bother waiting for you guys this time. He turned around and started making his way to where the car they had parked was, sitting between the trees and bushes surrounding your home.

Even though Elias acted annoyed, you couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, looking at Elijah. “He been like this all night?” You asked as you both started walking the same path Elias took. He let out a small snort at his words. “You know he hates comin’ over here.” You didn't need to hear anything else to know that the reason was because of your daddy. You let out a small snort and started swaying your hips with your steps, excited.

“Well, now, we can ease the worry away with wherever you boys picked for the night,” You said, giving him a smirk one could only describe as seductive. “Mm…” He hummed out. “Really?” He said, his ears listening but his eyes looking down at your ass as you walked, your body being hugged by the blue fabric so nicely.

“Just because we’re goin’ wherever we’re goin’ doesn't mean every worry will go away.” You smacked your lips and rolled your eyes, looking at him over your shoulder after having stepped in front of him. “Damn, live a little. Let me say what I wanna say,” I said and Elijah gave you a raised brow. “Oh, well, my bad, baby,” He said, raising his hands up in surrender before he moved them back down, one in a pocket and the other on your waist. But then, he pulled you toward him, making you giggle as he playfully nuzzled his nose against your neck.

“But I ain't takin’ no disrespect tonight… especially from a bratty-ass girl like you,” He said and you couldn't help but let out a low hum, your body relaxing against his as his rough fingers groped your ass that was beneath your dress.

“Oh… you dirty man,” You said before your positions shifted and now, you both were walking side by side while he gave you his signature grin.

You both walked to the car, where Stack was already sitting in the passenger seat.

“Is Mary comin’?” You then asked, knowing that the girl had mentioned wanting to come to one of your late-night fun moments.

“Oh, yeah,” Smoke said, as if he were remembering something he already knew. “We’re pickin’ her up next before we go to the place.” “Good. I wanna see my girl,”

Elijah let out a chuckle. “You don't wanna see ya nigga?” He asked, teasingly. “Well, of course I wanna see you… But I also wanna see my girl. There ain't no competition,” You said, and he let out another amused sound before you both continued walking and talking.

Soon, you both got in the car. Elijah got behind the wheel, and you got in the back before Elijah brought the thing to life, and soon, you three were driving down the dirt trail you were once looking at this morning, excited for a night you knew would be fun like the others before with the twins involved.

Damn, it was gonna be a good night.

[reborn-readings]

What does your heart need from you at this moment?

Tip Jar | Masterlist | Personal Readings

Hello hello! Back with a new Pick a Pile, the third one in my 'needs from you' series. Let's see what messages your heart has for you 💚

This is a group reading, so take what resonates and leave the rest. Don't force anything if it does not fit. Remember that the future is not set in stone and that other potential paths exist depending on your movement through the course of time.

Pile 1 (Left)

Rx Queen of Cups | Four of Swords | Inner Wisdom – Odin | Three of Swords | Seven of Summer | Lapis Lazuli – Expression | Mercy | Enlightenment – Moving Forward

Immediately the Rx Queen of Cups suggests a loss of control over emotion, or maybe a lack of emotion. This is also a rather sword-focused reading. Cups govern our heat, but swords can guide it. The four suits of Tarot are not separate—they intertwine and work together to improve out lives.

In order to get back to a place of evenness, you must allow these elements to work together. It sounds contradictory, but in order to help your heart heal, it asks you to follow your mind for now. It especially wants to emphasize that recognizing and feeling grief is important for your health and that rest is necessary—not only that, but the requirement of rest is a gift to humanity.

Allowing your mind to accept new knowledge and to expand will give you the tools you need to follow your heart. The world right now seems like a lot, what with spring coming (in a physical or metaphorical sense) and all these new, budding options available to you. For now, let logic guide you with the faith that your heart will return to you when it’s ready to help guide you.

In your relations with others, you walk a tightrope between honesty and compassion. Though you seem to be the kind of person whose kind words are not competing with your honest words. Continue your march of kindness and others will soon recognize you and show their bright colors in return.

Contrary to popular believe, protection lies not in the past or what is stable and unchanging, but in the future and in your ability to move on from past events. Each step forward is another bit of strengthening for your ward.

Other messages – Kindness to all living things (and maybe even some nonliving). What goes around comes around. Your true expressions are needed. Making a decision and moving on (it’s not as big of a decision as you might think—will it matter in a year?). Solitude/pulling back to gain wisdom.

Symbols – A matte feeling on your fingers and thumb. The color blue, like a snowy winter sky. Gold thread.

Pile 2 (Middle)

The Chariot | Eight of Swords | The Magician – Creator Gods | Queen of Swords | Four of Winter | Topaz – Manifestation | Change | Independence – Carving Your Own Path

Pile 2, have you ever seen a cicada coming out of its shell? That’s the image that I get of you right now. They spend the first seventeen years of their lives in bodies that aren’t theirs, only to climb up from the ground, anchor themselves to a tree, and split open on the back, emerging for a few months of whirlwind love.

This is an intense reading for me. It’s like you’re shock still now, but about to break forth and go tearing across the world to find your home. My heart is pounding just thinking about it! I suppose your heart just wants to warn you about the upcoming flurry of activity?

Yes, all your bindings will drop around you and you will create something magnificent. You will learn easy, rest easy, manifest what you desire, and transform into the new you. My throat got a bit tight when that message came to me—if this is something that you fear, know that your heart, your core, will stay the same. You’ll still be you! Only a more competent, independent, creative, merciful, confident, masterful you! When you’re through the transformation, it will feel as if it happened in the blink of an eye, and your heart will swell and feel warm with recognition of your accomplishments.

Other messages – Embrace the light of a new day. Confidence and belief. Make sure you get enough sleep. Heat and words as tools of creation. Energy.

Symbols – As I mentioned, insects coming out of pupae/cocoons. Races. The colors blue and yellow. The number 7. Soft/textured fabric.

Pile 3 (Right)

Rx King of Pentacles | Ace of Swords | Master of Wands – Giacomo Casanova | Ace of Cups | Ego | Rutilated Quartz – Confidence | Nature | The General of Knowledge

I get a distinct feeling of loss from you, Pile 3. Not something tangible or concrete that has been lost, but the loss of a certain feeling or thrill. The loss of passion. First, please know that these feelings, or lack thereof, are only temporary. Second, your heart has some messages for you to help you haul yourself out from this place.

Firstly. Several of the cards are pointing toward too much of an emphasis on the material. I see this manifesting as a sort of fear—fear of losing what you already have, fear of not being able to get what your body needs, fear of not being good enough to earn your keep, as they say. The counter to this fear is to invest in areas of life that develop you as a person. Be grateful for the opportunities that come your way, recognize your feelings and that each new relationship could be the start of something grand, maybe take up a new topic of interest to study or contemplate. Go for a nature walk and see what the world has to offer! I see you getting your hands dirty—maybe you’d like gardening, or something similar?

Secondly, a lot of the cards are pointing toward confidence. It feels like everyone can see how much swagger you have except you. But a lack of confidence is a self-fulfilling prophecy, and if you don’t believe in yourself, who will?

There is so much in this world waiting for you to dig it up. Hold onto hope, please, and remember to take life one day at a time.

Other messages – None. Listen to your heart, take note of how it feels. I sense that a higher power wants to bring you the rest of your messages, if you don’t already feel like you understand what comes next.

Symbols – Globe. Droplets of water. Overgrown plants.

If this was helpful, please consider donating or expanding on your personal messages in a reading💚

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

[possessedmen]

New City, New Me

Lukas stood on the sunlit pavement outside his Chemnitz apartment, the crisp spring air brushing against his skin. At 28, he was ready to leave behind the conservative streets of his hometown for the pulsing, liberated heart of Berlin. His belongings were packed, and the moving truck idled nearby. The company he’d hired promised a smooth move. What Lukas hadn’t anticipated was the man who’d step out of the driver’s seat.

The mover, a lean but muscular man named Jonas, wore khaki shorts that hugged his thighs and a loose tank top that revealed toned arms. White Nike socks peeked out above his chunky sneakers, and his casual confidence made Lukas’s heart race. Jonas hopped down from the truck, his movements fluid, and flashed a grin. “Last load, yeah?” he called, his Bavarian accent warm and teasing. Lukas nodded, his throat dry, as Jonas climbed onto the truck’s rear platform, leaning in to secure the final boxes.

Lukas’s gaze locked onto Jonas’s form — his shorts had slipped down slightly, revealing the curve of a perfectly rounded ass, framed by the waistband of his briefs. The sight sent a jolt through Lukas, his mind spiraling. Berlin was a city of reinvention, a place to shed his old self. And he had a tool for that: a vial of bodysuit serum, a strange, shimmering liquid he’d acquired from a shadowy online seller. It promised a transformation, a chance to become someone else. Watching Jonas’s toned legs flex as he adjusted a strap, Lukas made his decision. A new city deserved a new him.

He slipped into the apartment one last time, retrieving the vial from his bag. The serum glowed faintly, warm to the touch. Heart pounding, he returned to the truck just as Jonas leaned further in, his shorts slipping lower, exposing more of that tantalizing curve. “Need help?” Lukas asked, his voice shaky. Jonas glanced back, smirking. “Only if you’re climbing up here with me,” he teased, oblivious to the syringe in Lukas’s hand.

Lukas seized the moment. As Jonas turned back to the boxes, Lukas darted forward, plunging the syringe into Jonas’s ass. Jonas gasped, his body tensing before he slumped forward, unconscious but breathing steadily — the serum’s effect kicking in. Lukas’s pulse thundered in his ears. Guilt flickered, but desire burned hotter. He hopped on the rear platform of the truck with deflated Jonas and closed the door behind them.

The serum’s instructions were clear: Jonas’s body had become a living suit for Lukas to put on. Lukas stripped off his own clothes, standing naked in the dim light. He caught his reflection in a nearby mirror leaning against the truck wall, smirking at the bubble butt he’d sculpted through years of dedication. “New city, new me,” he murmured, giving it a playful smack. Then he turned to Jonas.

He tugged down Jonas’s khaki shorts, revealing the full curve of his ass, the briefs clinging tightly. Lukas’s breath hitched as he peeled off Jonas’s tank top, exposing a lean, sun-kissed torso. The serum had worked — Jonas’s skin shimmered faintly, elastic and ready. Lukas pressed himself against Jonas’s back, aligning their bodies. He found the seam along Jonas’s spine and pushed.

It felt like slipping into warm silk. Lukas’s body melded into Jonas’s, his legs sliding into Jonas’s legs, his arms into Jonas’s arms. He felt Jonas’s lean strength become his own, the sensation of Jonas’s toned ass now his to command. His head settled into Jonas’s, vision sharpening as Jonas’s hazel eyes became his. Lukas stood, steadying himself, and ran his hands over his new body — Jonas’s body. He flexed, feeling the taut muscles, the lithe power.

He glanced at the mirror. Jonas’s face stared back, boyish and handsome, but with Lukas’s sly grin. He turned, admiring the way Jonas’s ass looked in the khaki shorts, now pulled back up but still teasingly low. “Fuck,” he whispered, voice now Jonas’s lighter, playful tone. He gave it a smack, the sound sharp in the back of a truck, and felt a surge of desire.

He hopped down, sneakers hitting the pavement with a soft thud, and climbed into the driver’s seat. Jonas’s faint memories guided him — enough to know how to handle the truck.

As he pulled onto the road, Berlin’s skyline shimmering in the distance, Lukas felt alive. This was his new beginning, a chance to be bold, to be more. For now, Lukas leaned back, one hand on the wheel, the other tracing the curve of his new bodysuit. A new city, a new him — and a hell of a way to start.

[lewismcqueen]

it ain't right, and it ain't natural.

hades!lh44 x black!reader

summary: you return to the underworld after six months above ground, and are met with a world--and a man--that you no longer recognize. a/n: uhhh kinda freewrote here because the idea flew into my head suddenly and I just love the image of Lewis as a more reluctant but efficient ruler of the underworld who just wants his wife to love him lol. this one's angsty. haven't done that before. enjoy!

That was not six months, you thought with a huff.

It felt like only a cough and a sneeze separated you from summertime; you could've sworn you'd just had taste of well-aged dandelion wine on your lips while bathing in the sun on your own balcony a mere second ago. Now, you watched with a frown as the sky blackened overhead with the smog from your husband's sprawling factory came into view, black as the coal coming out of the mines.

The hem of your spring-green dress swish-swish-ed around your boots as you stepped off the train, the clanging of mine workers' tools getting louder and louder the closer you got to your destination. The chill of incoming winter already began to nip at your skin, making you pull your white fur coat tightly around yourself. You ran the pending conversation with the man through your head. Something, something, production costs. Blah, blah, bottom line. The mint. The mills. You'd have to get some fruit of the vine imported if you were gonna make it through the winter.

The smell of distant smoke and fog seemed to recede as you stepped into the building, climbing the spiraling steps up to his office. That familiar frosted door window greeted you, the name HADES in bold letters painted neatly across. The glare from an electric light illuminated the name, casting an ominous glow over the door in an otherwise dim hallway. That's new, you thought.

It was unlikely that the god had arrived yet at such an hour, and he usually kept the door unlocked on the day your train rolled in every six months in some distant attempt at offering an olive branch.

"What's mine is yours," he'd said with a hint of a smile, which quickly faded when you replied flatly, "All this could never be mine."

Still, you occasionally sat in it while sipping imported moscato, the sight of factory roofs the closest thing you'd ever get to a view.

You tried the brass doorknob, which gave way to reveal a sight that nearly made you drop your suitcase. Your expression tightened.

"You're early."

"Well," your husband, dressed in a tailored velvet burgundy suit, leaned forward in his seat. He tried on a thin smile. "I've missed you."

You rolled your eyes, already about to spin on your heel to leave. "I'll be in my suite--"

"Hold on a moment," he held up a ringed hand with measured calm, but the crease between his brows suggested a bit of restlessness.

"I wanted to show you something. Come with me, I think you'll find it quite interesting."

You sighed as he rose from his seat, adjusting his lapels. He moved with a grace and quickness that used to be reserved for swing dancing, once upon a time. His feet barely made a sound as he made his way towards you, despite the hard leather dress shoes on his feet. One never heard him coming, but you could feel his presence. Like a ghost.

That's why you caught a couple of workers jump and scatter as soon as Lewis entered yet another one of his vast factory rooms with you in tow. But something was quite different about this one.

"Why's it so damn hot down here?"

Lewis was too busy proudly taking in the loud bustle of the place to notice you fanning yourself off with a grimace. He folded his hands behind his back.

"I got bored while you were away, you know. So I've built a foundry for metalworking," he looked down at you and winked. "It's as hot in here as you make me."

Standing stiffly, you didn't respond to the joke. Your gaze had been drawn to the shiny reflective mask of one worker pouring a barrel of molten liquid into a cast. It looked like a waterfall of lava cascading over black cliffs. There were thousands of these barrels, and you started to wonder if this is what mortals imagined hell to be like. Sweat had begun to gather and moisten the fabric of your dress where your armpits were, making you shift uncomfortably.

"I'd like to leave now," you said tersely. "I'm startin' to chafe."

Lewis pressed his lips into a thin line, as if he had expected this response but was disappointed nonetheless. "Alright."

For the first time, the feeling of icy wind slicing against your face was a bit of a relief as you descended the factory steps, your husband not far behind.

The steps spilled out onto a newly-laid sidewalk. The heels of your boots click-clacked against the white concrete until you stopped suddenly. You looked around, furrowing your brows as you scanned the empty street.

"Where's the carriage?"

You heard rare chuckle from Lewis as he moved past you towards a large black machine, smooth black paint reflecting bits of streetlight. It had matching leather seats and wheels much smaller than your carriage, with a steering wheel in front. He leaned on it and crossed his arms, grinning with self-assurance.

"We've done away with those. This is an automobile. It's got replaceable parts made in the factories and an engine. Instead of horses, we've got horsepower. Isn't it splendid?"

He must've noticed the way your eyes narrowed, because he got up off of the car and extended a hand towards you. You took it gingerly, allowing him to open the door to the passenger's side.

Unfortunately, you did have to admit that the ride into town was much smoother than it would've been had you taken the carriage. Of course, there were still a few horse-drawn carriages left on the streets, but you saw flashes of finely-dressed couples in vehicles identical to your husband's. Only flashes, though. Gods, everything passed by so fast in this thing.

Lewis took his foot off of the gas and began to cruise once you entered town. You had to shield your eyes from the gawdy flashing marquees and neon signs that accosted your senses. Those definitely weren't there last winter.

You couldn't believe it--darkest time of year, and it was brighter than daylight. Not the golden sunlight that you would bring back with you in six months time, but a cold, headache-inducing mockery. Lewis drove one-handed now, his left arm hanging leisurely outside of the vehicle. His satisfied smile as he pulled over in front of a movie theater created a spark of rage within you. Did he think you'd be impressed by this?

"Is there a carnival happenin' down here that I don't know about?" you remarked with a scowl.

"Laid down a power grid, now the whole town's got electricity. Can you imagine it? Light in the pitch-black wintertime, 24/7!"

He turned to you with a look in his eyes that you hadn't seen in a long, long time. Wonder. It used to make them sparkle back when he would show you his plans, the factories a mere idea on parchment paper. Your expression softened, if not only a tiny bit.

"Don't see why it ought to be as bright as day in the evening."

Lewis' face fell, and you felt a faint pang in your chest. "Well, my guys work well into the night. It's more convenient--"

"It's unnatural," you snapped. "And it's givin' me a headache. Take me home, Lewis."

He spoke more carefully now. "I just...thought you might like it if it wasn't so dark all the time."

"You thought wrong."

"Come now, a bit of extra light couldn't possibly be that bad." Irritation had begun to seep into his voice now, but you couldn't help but go on arguing.

"It damn sure could be, the way I see it. Light ought to come from the sky--"

"I did all of this for you, Persephone!"

A few heads turned at the sudden outburst, his voice wavering at the tail-end of the sentence. He sighed, suddenly very interested in staring at the floor of the car and messing with his signet ring, solid gold with a blood-red ruby in the middle.

Then he continued more quietly, "It gets lonely, waiting for you. Then when you finally return, you manage to make me even lonelier. It's very impressive."

You turned away, massaging your temples. "Just take me home, Lewis."

He placed a hand on the wheel before pausing.

"I will, but tell me this one thing. What have I got to do to get you to look at me? To speak to me? You know I'd give you anything you asked for in a heartbeat. Why make it so fucking difficult?"

A long silence stretched between you, filled only with the sound of horse hooves, lively chatter, and the rumble of automobiles. Whenever Lewis felt you slipping farther away from him, he built mills and factories to fill the distance. As if assembly lines of dead souls would bring you any closer. You wanted that young man you met in the garden back. The one who was so nervous on your first date that he couldn't think to do anything else but sink down onto one knee and kiss your hand. How was that so hard to figure out?

You scoffed, "It's not difficult at all. I never asked for your fancy machines, or your electricity. And I certainly didn't ask to be cooped up behind some iron wall--"

An edge crept into his voice. "That wall is there to protect you."

"Sure. And my boots have got wings that'll let me fly away."

Lewis turned to you. "Is that what you want? To fly away?"

When you turned to meet his eyes, they were glassy with hurt.

It always felt good to take a good stab at him in the moment. To say something nasty and cutting before slamming the door in his face. Now, stuck in this car, there were no doors to slam behind you or walls to separate. It was not so fun to have to watch him bleed. You sighed heavily.

"Well I don't know. I'd certainly like to fly away from," you waved a hand vaguely in the air, "This."

His expression became cold and hard before he turned his eyes to the road ahead. He said flatly, "Then I'll find someone else who won't."

You were unable to hold back a bitter laugh, unbecoming of a goddess of spring. "Good luck."

The ride back home was very quiet.

[faretheeoscar]

NEEDY MIGUEL pt 2

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x SpiderFemaleReader

Warnings: 🔞 NSFW, Masturbation, sex toys, brief mentions of sex, a form of voyerism (?), oral sex, Peter B. mini cameo that could lead to something else in the future

AN: English is not my first language, no beta read/grammar corrected.

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 (final soon)

Needy Miguel who was siting down on his desk having a bad morning after not sleeping enough last night, having to conduct meetings all morning leaving him in a very cranky mood.

Needy Miguel that shifted uncomfortable on his seat thinking about how today was another day when he was a coward and instead of trying to get closer to you, he sent you away on a 3 day mission

Needy Miguel that searching for one of his tools on his desk to occupy his mind in something else that wasn’t frustrating him more, notices a small gift on one of his drawers and inspects it, his face turning 5 shades redder as he opens the box and quickly tosses it back

Needy Miguel that is fuming in anger thinking about who could’ve pranked him that way, stuffing a sex toy on his desk? That was a very untaste full joke that made his blood boil.

Needy Miguel that overthinks and calls out for Lyla, she says to him that only one hand full of people had come to his office, she includes your name on that list and he quickly dismisses her, for him to be alone with his thoughts feeling a pressure tightening on his chest and his mind clouding.

Needy Miguel that stares at the toy and can’t stop thinking about the subtle looks you gave him that morning on the meeting, could it really be you that left him that in there? No, that was ridiculous, it was probably one of Parker’s jokes, he’d always be nagging him about not getting any action, and that he needed to blow off his frustrations some way, hinting to the two of them maybe… well thinking about that let’s not go that way, that’s a total different story for another day

Needy Miguel that reaches out for the toy and takes it out of the box, to inspect it, the toy looking so small against his big palms, he introduces one finger and his eyes immediately roll to the back of his head at the feeling of it.

Needy Miguel that quickly made disappear the crotch part of his suit as his hard rock cock spring out already leaking precum that will do as lube for now

Needy Miguel that slowly takes the toy and push his cock inside it groaning loudly at the sensation not even caring if anyone could hear him outside his office

Needy Miguel that made a mess of himself in less than 3 minutes just by the sensation of something different than his hand, and how the semitransparent small thing looked rolling against his thickness as it squeezed him hard cause it could barely fit around him

Needy Miguel that kept jerking himself with the toy even if he was sensitive and his thighs twitched by the overstimulation of it, cause for him one orgasm simply wasn’t enough

Needy Miguel that got the urge of having a visual aid and while still moving the toy up and down his length reached out for the footage of you before you left for the three day mission he sent you and zoomed in on his screen

Needy Miguel that whined desperately as he watched how your eyes were focusing on him the whole time he conducted the meeting, hips buckling up and thinking about how he’ll keep your eyes focused on him not letting you close them even if he rolled his girth so deep inside you that he would reach your cervix and make you both moan in need

Needy Miguel that let out short gaps of breath as he focused on stimulating his tip with the wrinkly parts of the toy as he saw your pretty face pouting when he said he was sending you away with other members that weren’t him.

Needy Miguel that started to think about how your lips would look around his cock, how they would stretch out due his thickness.

Needy Miguel that indulged better in that fantasy, imagining,the lingering stickiness of his previous load inside the toy, acting as if it was your saliva, how your tongue would lap over his tip to then take him fully.

Needy Miguel that started murmuring to himself praises he’d give to you as he saw you biting your lip on his screen while you payed attention to him on the meeting this morning.

“look at you princesa, taking me— so well”

Watching his cock disappear on the small hole of the toy picturing your stretching lips and how would you hallow your cheeks so suck him better

Needy Miguel that imagined how he’d take your head and bob it up and down his liking making you gag and plead silently for a breathing

“que bonita te ves, sucking my cock at work—-“

Needy Miguel that fastened his pace hips fully fucking the toy at the thought of how your warm throat would feel around him, when he’d fuck your mouth making tears roll down your cheeks, imagining how you’d drool for him.

“Coño cariño , keep on going, just like that”

Needy Miguel that kept on fantasising over you as he rolled his hips up sensually keeping himself on edge as his calls of your name resonated all over his office.

Needy Miguel that gasped for air as he felt his balls tightening making his eyes roll to the back of his head trying to suppress a moan biting his bottom lip and making a small cut to it with his fangs

Needy Miguel that looked down at his twitching member and how it spurt out ropes of cum all over his desk, as he stimulated it for a few more seconds before stopping

Needy Miguel who’s chest was lifting up and down uncontrollably and he let out a pathetic whine when he finally took his cock out of the pocket pussy to shove it back to the drawer.

Needy Miguel that started to feel the embarrassment of his actions and felt his anxiety creeping back up at him, but before he could close his eyes and lean back on his desk chair; saw a little white piece of paper shining on the back of the drawer

Needy Miguel who got confused when he saw a little note on the back of his desk drawer and his face turn white when he read that it was from you and quickly, went through his history of calls on his gizmo, noticing that as your note stated he had in fact called you in his alone time yesterday…

Needy Miguel that reached back down his crotch to feel his once again hardening cock to start to tug it again even though it hurt at this point by how hard he have been jerking off, reading the note over and over again, picturing your mischievous smile while you wrote it:

I enjoyed your call from last night…. I hope my little gift serves you better than your hand, that only until I get back to see you again ;)

Oh, you were a little brat…and he will show you the consequences of your little prank, but for now he’d probably just kept his office locked and forget about work for today due to his new entertainment source and your tease that will keep him hot and bothered.

Shock you’re gonna be the death of him

AN: Guys I gotta thank you for he overwhelming response to the first part of this thing!

It was supposed to be a one time dump of horny thoughts but I’m so grateful for y’all and hope you enjoyed this second one too!

Thanks again for the new 100 of y’all and over 1k numbers on the first part! 🫶🏼

PS: can’t stop imagining Miguel jerking off all day, god… so pathetic and hot 🥵

Reblogs and comments are kindly appreciated!

Main Masterlist

Fic Masterlist

[lovely-p-issues]

Calypso put the new flowers in the vase.

It didn't matter how much water she poured in or how often she changed the plants - the flowers always wilted after a few hours and nothing of her magic could prevent that. She didn't understand that. Just like she didn't understand a lot of things that had happened since her Beloved had shown up on her island.

The late dinner was slowly cooling, the smell wafted throughout the house and the last wisps of steam were disappearing somewhere in the air. She was used to waiting for him. To waiting for him to turn up in her bed at night, for him to join her in the warm springs of the island and rest in her embrace, for him to give up those childish dreams of Ithaca and burn all those tools he was trying to hide from her.

She had waited so long. She could have waited a little longer.

‘Oh darling, this looks just amazing.’

It wasn't Odysseus' voice. Odysseus never sounded so cheerful.

She turned and clenched her fist, and the candles in the room flickered.

At the head of the table, where she usually seated Odysseus, sat a strange man.

No, not a man.

A god, smiling at her with his teeth bared. He sprawled comfortably in a chair, holding a chalice in his hand, Odysseus' chalice, into which she had not yet had time to pour wine. However, the intruder seemed not to mind as he took a sip from it without taking his eyes off her. In his other hand he held a strange staff, entwined with two snakes. He rotated it in his hand, as if slightly bored.

‘This place is not for you, Hermes,’ Calypso growled, and the candles went out completely.

She noticed with anger that the Lilies of the Valley, which only an hour ago had tempted her with their fragrance in the meadow, had begun to bow to the ground. The petals were covered in spots.

The Messenger of the Gods only laughed heartily. Something about that joy made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. He waved the Caduceus, and the candles lit up again, but this time with a rosy glow. She gritted her teeth.

‘So you remember me? I shouldn't be surprised, I can make an impression, after all I am-’

‘Uninvited. And unwelcome.’

‘Funny, I don't recall you being bothered by not being invited when the waves tossed a certain wanderer onto the shore.’

She turned.

‘I enjoy his company.’

She had work to do. She placed the pot over the hearth.

‘I don't doubt it, darling. Tell me, though, does he enjoy yours?’

The wind wailed and hit the shutters. Out of the corner of her eye, Calypso noticed that the petals of the buttercups had fallen on the table. She had to restrain herself from shouting.

‘He will learn to enjoy it. I have time, all the time in the world. His wife cannot say the same. Even his son will eventually turn to dust. And he will finally be able to move on.’

'Ah, so you put your trust in the workings of Chronos, the god of time. A touching method, mortals claim, but even they can tell the difference between it and a vain hope. How long has it been, darling? Seven years, if I count correctly?'

She slammed her hands on the table, glancing at him over her shoulder.

‘Oh, please, what is seven years?’

‘For us?’ waved the Caduceus between them. ‘Nothing. For them?’ he waved his hand towards the window. ‘It's a bit more complicated.’

‘Why do you care? Why couldn't you fly over my island without looking back, like you always do?’

‘For many reasons. If only for the fact that, as you know, I am the god of travellers. What kind of a patron would I be if I didn't make sure that such a determined man didn't make it home?’

‘He is home.’

Although Hermes took a compassionate tone, his face remained sullen.

‘A lie doesn't suit your eyes, darling.’

She clenched her fists and furrowed her forehead.

‘I won't let you-’

Hermes was no longer sitting behind the table. He was hovering over her, and his eyes, though hidden by the shadow of his helmet, glittered with rage.

‘You will let me speak, for as the Messenger of the Gods, I speak not only with my voice, but also with the voice of Zeus, the King on Olympus. You will let Odysseus go. You will end his torment. You will let him sail home. You will give him everything he needs for the journey. And then you will come back here and learn to live without him.’

Calypso didn't think she could still be afraid of anything after all these years. She took a step closer and raised her head so that their noses nearly touched.

‘He's going to die.’

Hermes tilted his head.

‘Let me worry about that, darling.’

His voice was cheerful again.

He moved away from her and began to play with the dried flowers.

She stood in silence, afraid that if she opened her mouth she would start to cry. Finally, she quieted the storm in her chest.

‘What if I convince him?’ she looked at the god, a challenge burning in her eyes. ‘What if he decides to stay?’

‘Then I will be more than impressed, darling, even as a god whose one of his myriad talents is deft eloquence.’

Hermes moved closer to her. In his hands he held a garland braided with petunias, monkshoods and yellow carnations. Fatal was a crown for the queen of Ogygia.

She had not brought those flowers. She took one last look past the set table and the cold food. The only flowers she had brought herself that had not fallen from their strength were yellow roses, the scent of which now made her choke.

Hermes adorned her head with a garland in the gentlest of motions.

‘Go on, Calypso. I shall watch.’

The wings rustled and Calypso was alone. Again.

___

I hope you enjoyed a little dangerous Hermes c:

[harvestmoss]

🌹 Love & Sex Magic Basics

Some good knowledge to have in the back of the mind when performing love and sex magic, alone or with others, yourself or for others. Sex and love magic often work together.

As always, I do not want minors on these posts, this is an 18+ only post.

Blog post include...

TIME - The best times to cast love and sex magic.

SPACE - The best places to performance.

TOOLS - Great talismans and objects to have near you when performing.

COLOURS - Best colours to use.

NUMBERS - Numbers use and to invoke.

WATERS - Spell waters to use for enhancements.

OILS - Spell oils best suited for love and sex magic.

BOTANICALS & APHRODISIACS - Flowers, herbs, foods, etc. These are the botanicals to use for love and sex magic, especially the aphrodisiac ones.

NOTES - Extra good knowledge to know when performing love and sex spells.

TIME

🌑 New Moon: The new moon is associated with our shadow self. Due to history and religion, we often associate sex and desires with our shadow self, something kind of unacceptable. It's such a primal human feeling, lust. So sex magic benefits from the New Moon greatly.

🌒 Waxing: The moon is getting bigger and brighter. Creating an ideal phase for magic around growth. Say you're in a relationship already, you'd want it to grow better and stronger, this is an ideal time to add extra passion into your sex life too.

🌕 Full Moon: Everything is full and intense on the Full Moon. Generally, all spells are enhanced during Full Moon, so you may cast sex magic here to enhance them. See what works best for you whenever it is the Full Moon or New Moon.

♀️ Friday: These are the best days for love and sex magic. This day is in honour of Venus. But you may also know it as the day of Aphrodite, Freya, and Oshun. Generally, love spirits are most powerful during Fridays.

🕒 The Clock: Typically, daylight brings abundance, growth, and positive influences. Night brings out the shadow self, intuition and emotional self. You could prepare spells in the daylight and performe them during night. See what works best for you. I wouldn't worry too much about the exact clock.

SPACE

🛏️ The Bedroom: The bedroom is home to the bed, a place we spend roughly ⅓ of our lives in. I believe it oozes with great magical threshold and potential. It's the home to our subconscious mind and desires. A bed is also where we typically perform pleasurable acts. Performaning sex magic in the bedroom is more potent than that of the living room.

🛁 The Bathroom: Not the place we typically have acts of pleasure, but it is a place we're often bare and naked in. we take baths, or get ready and make sure we looks alright, make sure we smell good, some do their makeup here, so on and so forth. I often perform glamour magic in the bathroom, and if you do glamour magic in conjunction with sex magic, your sex magic has a greater chance of success. Glamour magic is about attraction, and sex magic is specifically attracting pleasure. Think of them as collaborative partners occasionally.

TOOLS

🌿 Priapic Wand: A wand with a phallic object attached to the end, usual that of an acorn or pinecone. Mainly used to encourage the growth of Spring and is a symbol of Imbolc and Beltane. You may attache ribbons and bells to it as well.

🌿 Mermaid Wand: Mermaids or sirens are said to have lured sailors into the sea with their beauty and sexual nature. A mermaid wand is simply a piece of driftwood.

🌿 Copper Wand: Copper holds romance and feminine energy, so copper wands are often used in love spells, tope it with a rose quartz to enhance the powers.

🦢 Swan/Rooster Feathers: Swans are often a romantic symbol of grace and beauty, we often see swans in artworks being their iconic heart symbol together, they're also a bird that mates for life. Roosters on the other hand help ward off evil and are a symbol of male energy. I see rooster feathers often used in love magic, perhaps because the rooster is such a lady's man?

🔧 Iron: Representing primal male power. Iron helps invoke sexual desire and remedy lack of libido. Iron is also hard, stiff, and endures a lot. So we're hoping that it's magical properties will tranfer through to the spells. Soaking iron in water and using that water to bath your man, specifically the part that's actually useful about us, will enhance us to perform better.

🕯️ Candles: Candles are already used in every spell there is, I'm mainly placing it here since I've found that when you involve another person and light their name on fire it invoke passion and sexual drive.

💕 Adult Toys: I suggest having literal symbols of sex near you or being used when performing sex magic. Even greater if you have one specifically for the use of these rituals. Similarly, having pornography to stimulate you is favoured, or a partner.

🐎 Horseshoes or Horse Symbols: Horseshoes are often associated with luck and protection. But can also be a powerful love talisman. Horse shoes incorporate iron (as discussed above), the shape of a horse shoe is reminiscens a cresent moon, often associated with female energy, and it may also be associated with the symbol of double horns which is a symbol of the female genitalia (Statues showing off the vulva frightened off ghosts because the vulva is a symbol of life and ghosts are dead). The symbol of a horse adds additonal meaning, especially that of a stallion, being that of powerful virile animals. If you were to hammer a nail through a horseshoe, well, isn't that obvious why?

COLOURS

🍎 Red: A primary colour, red is associated with life and passion in many cultures. Red is connected to the body through health, sex, lust, love, romance, passion, confidence.

🍊 Orange: Symbolising connections in our life. It has associations with power, vitality, energy, growth, success, and ambitions. Great colour to use when you're already in a relationship.

💗 Pink: Often a feminine colour, therefore, it represents those quirks and stereotypes. Unconditional love, playfulness, love, gentleness, beauty, feelings. It's also the lesser colour of red, so if you'd want more intimate sex rather than rough, I recommended pink.

NUMBERS

2️⃣ Two (2): For obvious reasons, it is the number of unity, of harmony.

5️⃣ Five (5): I have heard to invoke the power of Oshun (Orisha of Love), you should use the number five.

6️⃣ Six (6): To invoke the power of Aphrodite (Lady of Love), use the number six.

8️⃣ Eight (8): To invoke the power of Inanna-Ishtar (Queen of Heaven), use the number eight. Eight is also the number associated with eternity and infinity if you lay it down, so use it to keep a relationship and sex life intact.

🔢 Numerology: Generally, lesser numbers are beginnings and bigger numbers are endings. So use lesser numbers to start a passionate life and bigger numbers to have greater orgasms, etc. See what works best for you.

WATERS

🕊️ Angel's Water: This water began as a complexation remedy in the sixtheenth-century before slowly becoming a love potion. It's name is a reference to the Angels that seduced the daughters of man in the Book of Genesis. It's also known as Aphrodite Water with it's main ingredient being Myrtle, which is said is what Aphrodite was covered in when she emerged from the ocean.

💞 Florida Water: Originally marketed as a cologne. Florida Water has attractive qualities due to it's scent with rosemary and citrus aspects. IT draws in luck, fantastic energies, and happiness.

🌹 Rose Water: Roses are often associated with love and romance, especially the red variant. Rose Water, or any flower water for that matter, are often used in love spells and beauty spells.

🍷 May Wine: Ritual potion for Midsummer’s Eve and Walpurgis Night. Some of my potions require mixing ingredients into a wine, and I choose May Wine, if I don't have that, red wine is fine.

OILS

💖 Love Oil: Used for love and sex spells, as well as being used for attraction.

💘 Come To Me Lover Oil: Consider this a deluxe version of Love Oil. Perfect for sex magic and attraction of people, used mainly for specific purposes, such as drawing in a specific kind of sex life or person.

🐈 Black Cat Oil: Break bad spells and hexes, attract positive attention, especially that of the opposite gender. Depending on what oil base you choose, jojoba or castor oil for protection and almond oil for love spells.

🌿 Cleopatra Oil: Captures the true essence of legendary Egyptian queen, Cleopatra. Used for glamor spells, love and sex magic.

BOTANICALS & APHRODISIACS

💐 Botanicals: Basil, carrots, catnip, chamomile, cardamom, coriander, cubeb, gardenia, grains of paradise, hibiscus, hyacinth, iris, jasmine, lady’s mantle, lavender, lovage, mint, onion, orchid, poppy, rose, rosemary, saint john’s wort, southernwood, strawberries, thyme, tormentil, vervain.

Botanicals associated with romance and sex and/or can enhance your love and sex spells.

🍾 Aphrodisiacs: Caviar, champagne, chocolate, coriander, apricots, peaches, cherries, grapes, figs, pomegranates, garlic, hibiscus tea, honey, hot peppers, mint, onions, radishes, saffron, shellfish, cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, sushi, vanilla, tomato.

Ingredients in which have shown to have aphrodisiac effects, some more than others.

☁️ Myrrh and Frankincense: They may not be obvious, with their religious background and association. However, they were burned in ancient Egypt, and myrrh was associated with Isis, the goddess of fertility, and frankincense with that of Rah. The lunar and sun goddess and god. Burn together with a partner or burn myrrh if you're more fem leaning and frankincense if you're mask leaning. Burn myrrh if you're attracting a woman and burn frankincense if you're attracting a man. What if you're nonbinary or the partner is? Burn both.

NOTES

Some extra good things to note before, during, and after performing love and sex spells.

Bathing your hands in Rose Water to enhance spells before performing - You may also use thyme.

Performing naked for sex magic increases the chances of success. Alternatively, clothing that makes you feel sexy.

Wearing a red ribbon around your waist for sexual seduction enhancement. You may use red string and incorporate knot magic, or a red gather belt, or regular belt. Something red around your waist, essentially.

In sex magic, you'll want to stir counter-clockwise. This is to invoke passion and vigour in your sex life. While clockwise is the opposite and lessens the libido. You may also think of it as counter-clockwise for deviance and clockwise for "vanilla".

Stir near your thighs and genitals to enhance success and better sex.

Stir near your heart for romantic love.

The hair off of someone's head is often used in love spells to draw them near you and make them love you. However, if you acquire their pubic hair, more sexual and aroused feelings will be invoked.

Use your sexual bodily fluids to charge and enchant sigils and other objects.

Use menstrual blood to enhance love spells. Are you someone who do not bleed like me? Worry not! Prick your ring finger, preferably that of the left (unless you're married, then that of the right) and the blood will have a similar effect to that of menstrual blood.

Are your love spells not working on your lover? Acquire a piece of their hair and let gentle water drip on ti it continually and the resistance should wear off. Sometimes your lover may even be cursed with lack of sexual performances, so bathing in iron would help or eating any of the aphrodisiac ingredients would help too.

It helps to be in the mindset when performing love and sex spells, so being aroused and excited for sex spells helps them perform better. Being in a romantic mood helps for love spells, so feed yourself well with cherries, peaches, and chocolate. As well as having your favourite adult toys out when doing sex magic or also warming yourself up and then performing sex magic.

That should be it, go out and have lots of good sex and love!

Excuse grammar mistake and spelling errors, English is not my first language.

[thefandomsfervent]

JayVik x Reader Personal Pigments (Part 24) - Raw Umber

Gala chapter coming soooon <3

Find my imagine that inspired it here. Previous and next chapter will be linked at the bottom.

not that I'm losing steam with this fic, but it has inpsired so many other things that i want to write too. Would y'all want other fics? I have other fics. Not written but they're up there. floating in my mind. This fic may enter a hiatus after a few more chapters so I can start other projects. Stay tuned and Thank you for reading <3 These aren't beta read, didn't really edit this one. May fix it up later this upcoming week <3

╔═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╗

You had shocked yourself saying you’d go, the heat of the moment and your own thoughts getting to you. Even more shocked when it seemed like Viktor had changed his mind on going a couple days after. A few days have passed since then.

Piltover lived for its socialite opportunities. Parties, dinners, galas, events, parades, and even luncheons were ever present in the calendar year. You were well aware of the expectations set for each occasion, and of how lacking your wardrobe was for it. Now you have around two weeks to find suitable attire. That itself wouldn’t be a problem if you hadn’t just placed a supply order. Whatever funds you may have had for a new dress or jewelry would be shipped in the form of oil paints and new brushes. You had dresses from gallery showings at the Institute, some old faithfuls hung in the back of your closet. “One of them would have to do.” With that you try to push all the wandering thoughts away.  

You take in the empty lab. Jayce was gone today, helping out with the forge. And it was still early enough in the day that Viktor was still recovering from whatever late night musings kept him up. No time to waste then. Despite it feeling like Spring had just started, Summer was looming above. And that meant that Autumn and Winter would follow suit. Your paints were drying fairly quickly in the heat but on humid rainy days it would set you back days, and the winter cold would mean that it may take a week for layers to dry. Today was a perfect day, the air was still and warm. Your washes of color didn’t take long at all to settle on the canvas. Purple, yellow, green, pink. Thin layers to color skin, thicker strokes of pale and tan flesh, blocking out arms and hands. Their faces were still unpainted, focusing on their hands and their clothes.

When it came time to finally realize their faces on the canvas, you wanted to make sure you’d be uninterrupted. You were considering even taking the whole painting back to your studio to work on it then. That would be then, and this was now. 

Right now you were in your element, breaking it all down into colors and shapes. Hands were easiest to deal with when you weren’t stuck on making them be hands, but connected shapes. Shapes can be shaded for depth, definition given with the context of what was around them. Long fingers were broken down into rectangles and rounded corners, diagonal angles and warm tones. Shifting between tinges of blue and green, purple and yellow. Red and Pink on knuckles, knuckles were just cut circles. The meat of a hand was an oval, a trapezoid, barely there veins were carefully lined to curve into wrists. Shapes and colors could be attributed to many things. To create form. An image. To build something from the ground up whether that was two or three-dimensional. And it could show temperature. States of matter. Emotion. 

Warmth was soft, it could be an orange glow from a candle flame, it could be the plush lining of a jacket. It could be the way hands held their tools, held each other. It could be shown in the richness of all hues of the Academy outfits that needed detailing next. Trading a flat wash brush for a thin liner, switching gears to focus on the details of shirt cuffs. 

“Wow.” You jump, the paintbrush dropping to the ground with a clatter. It rolls away from your station and you turn to follow its trail. When it stops at a pair of black boots your eyes shift to the source of your startling. A familiar face and that gap toothed grin greeting you with a small wave.  

“Oh gods, Jayce” You turn back to the painting. You’d gotten one hand done for each of them, where they were in a neutral light between the night and day sides of the work. 

“You’re easy to scare. Have you ever noticed that?” He says it with a laugh, he sounds tired. His steps are slow and heavy behind you. 

“Maybe I’m too busy getting scared to see the pattern.” The words come out in a huff, but you smile in thanks when he hands you the paintbrush over your shoulder. Now that you’ve settled you’re able to focus. Oh, well now your heart was beating too fast for an entirely different reason. You’d seen him come back before, sweaty brow and his clothes covered in soot. But this was… different. “I thought you were working at the Forge today?” The paintbrush in your hand gestures to his attire, and lack thereof. 

Same black boots being the only familiar attire to you. Brown pants that were similar to the Academy uniform. A brace-like toolbelt hugging his waist tightly. And then, nothing. No shirt. Just soot-splotches on skin and those elbow high gloves. His hair is tousled in a way you haven’t seen before, sticky to his forehead. You weren’t sure how far the forge was, but you were wondering how far he had to walk to get here. Run even, if he was as tired as you thought. 

“I was! But then I had an idea for Hextech and-” His eyes look around the lab. “Viktor isn’t in yet?” You don’t miss the slump in his shoulders, despite how small it was. A shake of the head is all you can give him, trying to catch your words, and make your eyes stay on his face. Having drawn him for as long as you had, you knew his proportions were insane. But this was just rude. The difference between his shoulders and his waist, especially with that belt on, was insane. You could probably pass off any lingering stares with that excuse. If it weren’t for the blush that you felt warming your cheeks. 

“You wouldn’t want to lose track of it. He’ll be here eventually.” You try to keep your voice even while gesturing to the chalkboard behind them, Viktor had cleared it sometime last night after copying down notes. A whole space for Jayce to work on. He smiles before clapping a gloved hand on your shoulder. It was heavier than usual, the insulated leather a thick press. The smell of oil and charcoal was not foreign to you, but they looked different here. Smelt different on him. He’s already going to the board, taking the gloves off to reveal a stark line of dirt and skin. 

“This cannot be fair.” A reward and a punishment dangling in front of you. Self indulgent stares at his broad back or returning to the bliss of full force work. Jayce seemed to be doing the latter, books propped open on the ledge for reference. The soft scraping of chalk on the board and excited mutterings, circles and lines, runes and words, arrows and numbers. In the span of maybe 10 minutes he had filled half the board with words you couldn’t quite decipher. As he reached across to scribble his theories the skin of his back was pulled taut, the muscles there were defined. Visible. A part of you wonders how they would feel under your fingertips, the movement and the power. Another part of you wishes you were bold enough to ask to draw him. Not that you couldn’t now, but for a real figure study. His physique was an anatomical study dream. 

Enough ogling. Jayce was working, deeply and with vigor. You should be doing the same. The cuffs needed some detailing, even if it was not nearly as entertaining. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Admittedly, Jayce did want to go to the gala. There were many days that he wanted to be at the lab or the forge or his bed more than anything else, but when you first came here Heimerdinger mentioned something that Jayce couldn’t let go. “You boys will be doing more dinners and speeches and galas and the like. It comes with the territory.” Anxiety was a feeling he wasn’t unfamiliar with. The thought of having to watch every interaction he makes? Every decision? It filled him with dread. This may be one of the last times he and Viktor could go out, and now as a couple, without too many prying eyes. The idea only became more enticing when you said that you’d like to go. Imagining you in some delicious draping gown, or would you prefer a tighter dress that revealed your thighs and arms? The sight of you and Viktor both in finery that daily wear didn’t require might make his heart beat out of his chest. An energy he would gladly redirect to more physical work. 

There was something about the Forge that relaxed him. A completely different process from the equations of the lab. Helping out in the Forge was easy because the team there knew he was skilled enough to handle almost anything that they could throw at him. It was especially helpful during Holiday seasons. Things were slow at the Academy and he would grow restless with nothing to do. Making gifts and construction orders was an easy way to stay busy. Today Jayce started out on a bulk order, early enough in the day that there weren’t many people there. It quickly devolved into new prototypes for the lab, and that turned into thinking about the lab. About Hextech. In his own station there was no paper to write down on. He was able to stave off some of the racing thoughts by stealing the back of old order papers, but eventually there was no more room in the margins. And before he knew it he was running across Piltover desperate to cling onto the ideas in his head before he lost them. 

Practically bursting into the lab, eyes wide, holding on to several quickly loosening mental threads. The chalkboard was empty. Good! Great! An empty base, more movement, no need to turn pages that filled too quickly and then having to flip back for references. In the lab there was also you, working on your painting. The morning light filtering through the window, you were hunched in a position that could not be comfortable. He walks closer. Eyes laser-focused onto the canvas in front of you, hand slowly moving across the hands you were bringing to life. You looked intense and gentle, a soft smile on your lips. Humming some tune he didn’t recognize. He didn’t mean to speak, but the moment was so unique. Often there was not an opportunity to admire you without your noticing, without flustering you. 

Suddenly you whorl around, your paintbrush on the ground. All the stillness is catching up to Jayce, he’s tired. Having pushed himself at the Forge, pushed himself to run, and now? Now he needed to work. Viktor may not be there to bounce ideas off of but he could work without his partner for now. Still, he catches your eyes and blush. He is no stranger to being stared at. It fluffs up his ego for a minute, and if he wasn’t so ready to get to work he would have gladly pushed the moment. Seen if he could get you to admit what you were looking at. If you were looking for anything. Now is not the time for distractions, as delicious as they may be. 

Jayce moves his attention to the board.

╚═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╝

-------------.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙-Part 23.-Part 25.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .---------------

------------‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙· Master Fic List *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊--------------

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

YOOO dangaronpa huh?? :0 can I maybe Request headcanon kazuichi souda finding a Polarbear animatronic and it turns out it has a child spirit Y/n who was stuck inside Fnaf style.. and they become his lil buddy?

Yesss the crossover of all time!

..............

As of late, Kazuichi found some new (and yet old) technology that he could tinker with.

It was a...rather creepy animatronic polar bear, their creation dating back to the 90s. He tried researching their origins after buying them at an auction, and the company they came from was apparently controversial, riddled with lawsuits, and took way too long to go out of business.

Even though this robot bear looked far too scary for kids, he tries being brave about repairing them just to see if they could function again.

Unfortunately for him, the spirit that was still active inside--you--woke up to see dozens of tools scattered around a dark room, and this strange man trying to open your suit's torso.

And suddenly you spring to life, grabbing his wrist before he could do anything.

This man lets out the girliest shriek in existence.

You quickly realize that he's not...him. And you didn't recognize this place as the pizzeria you died in.

You ask who he is, but your voicebox is still broken, and he's just crying and screaming and begging you to let him go.

When you do, he runs back inside the house and doesn't return for a few hours.

He hasn't restored function to your legs, so you're basically stuck waiting for him to come back.

Eventually he does, but holds a wrench closely for self-defense, clearly thinking you're some killer robot.

"Don't hurt me.." He trembles, flinching when you move on your own and look at him. "W-Wha...I didn't...how did you...? Are you-???"

"Please don't-"

"AHHH!!! YOU ARE HAUNTED!!!! JUST LIKE THOSE MOVIES!!!"

"....panic." It's an awkward situation, but after politely asking him to set the wrench down, he complies. "I know you have a lot of questions, but so do I. Who are you? And what is this place?"

Kazuichi is bewildered by your voice. It sounds no younger than...9? 10? It's very echoey and humane. Nothing like that broken glitching garble you sputtered out a few hours prior.

But after convincing him (at least a hundred times) that you absolutely mean no harm, he goes closer to you and explains how he found you---and basically gives you his life story.

You then tell him that someone very evil killed you and hid your body in this very animatronic, leading to you possess it out of anger for the life you've been robbed of.

Kazuichi is just sitting there, trying to process all of this.

You're basically a haunted robot who wants revenge.....and that machine was apparently your tomb as well.

Although to his relief, there's nothing inside when he checks the torso, realizing that you were cleaned prior to being sold at the auction.

You explain that you had friends who met similar fates, but you've also learned that your killer eventually did, too, rotting inside of one of his own creations. So you should be at peace.

You weren't, and didn't know why.

You figured you'd go to sleep until you were eventually disassembled.

Yet you woke up in the garage of the Ultimate Mechanic. Still trapped, but at the same time feeling a greater sense of liberation now that you got to tell someone your story.

In the end, you decide to stay with Kazuichi while he continues repairing your suit and other parts--such as your voicebox, but he prefers chatting with you in your real voice.

He feels terrible that you can't rest, and he's no exorcist so this was the least he could do, willing to push aside his fear of ghosts and all things supernatural just to help you.

You appreciated it, and began seeing him as a friend.

Within a short timeframe, he's given you all sorts of improvements--like allowing your optics to glow and giving you a proper bath, making you look almost brand new.

Not only that, but he even gave you retractable claws and a lot more motion in your joints, which would normally overheat your servos (and they didn't thanks to the coolant fans he also installed).

Between rushing to class and rushing home to fix you up, Kazuichi's classmates wonder what he's been up to.

Then he brings you to Hope's Peak, showing you off as his latest project while you just smile and greet everybody, amazing them with your functions.

"I didn't build them from scratch, but I made them better than they were!" He brags, his sharp-toothed smile mirroring your own.

The only one who isn't too impressed is Gundham--who senses a "dark and sorrowful" presence within you and sees your suit as a "disgrace" to real polar bears.

But when he brings Grizner to class for a "duel", he finds you two actually getting along, much to his shock.

Kazuichi is just laughing all the while, happy to see his new buddy making friends (and that he could impress Sonia for once).

You, on the other hand, were glad to meet so many new people.

Even though Gundham definitely knows your secret.

[fashionsfromhistory]

Ensemble

Maxwell Boko and Mmuso Potsane for Mmusomaxwell

Spring/Summer 2021

Mmusomaxwell is a ready-to-wear womenswear fashion brand based in Johannesburg, South Africa, founded in 2016 by Maxwell Boko and Mmuso Potsane. Boko and Potsane met as contestants on the TV show The Intern, run by designer David Tlale, where they competed to present at South Africa Fashion week. Mmusomaxwell are known for their tailored, minimalist designs, aimed at cosmopolitan working women.

This ensemble is from the Imbokodo collection, released for Spring/Summer 2021. Through this collection Boko and Potsane wanted to critique notions of a woman’s place in society, especially in traditional African cultures. The collection featured 27 pieces in a mixture of bold shapes and colours (mainly yellow, blue, red and black). Many of the designs drew on elements of a man’s suit, with the designers exploring power dressing, and the power suit, as a tool for female empowerment.

Victoria & Albert (Accession number: T.118:1,2-2021)

[jbaileyfansite]

In Jurassic World: Rebirth, Jonathan Bailey plays paleontologist turned survival expert Dr Henry Loomis – worlds apart from his horned-up 19th century turn as Viscount Anthony Bridgerton. Less steam, more doom, and a load of gore is what happens in big budget Hollywood movies that put humans in front of building-sized ancient carnivores.

In the latest trailer for the movie, we see Bailey abseiling down cliffs, beefing with raptors in caves and tackling sea-dwelling beasts head-on. If you were to go up against a feisty T-Rex, you’d need to be tooled up to the max. It’s tough guy shit that calls for a tough guy watch, which is how Bailey, an Omega ambassador, landed on the watch for the role.

“For Jurassic, I wanted to put an Omega watch through its paces. I knew that I wanted my character to wear one and I spotted the Railmaster from '57,” says Bailey. I spoke to Raynald [Aeschlimann, Omega CEO] and he tracked down a watch that was made in homage to that exact watch. So I wore that in all different experiences.” He could have chosen any Omega, but the Railmaster is particularly interesting.

“The original Omega Railmaster goes back to '57 and was developed to be a tool for scientists,” says Fratello’s Robert-Jan Broer, “so it’s an excellent choice for a scientist in Jurassic World! Precise timekeeping in labs or other places where external factors could be of influence was important, so a highly anti-magnetic and water resistant watch was a necessity!"

Bailey is wearing the 60th Anniversary Speedmaster Railmaster, which was released in 2017. But to add to the beater fossil hunter vibes, a stainless steel bracelet is swapped for a leather strap. It’s a low-key, less dino-baiting set up that looks right at home with Loomis’ plaid shirts, chinos and brown leather boots.

“The 2017 Railmaster is a nod to that first reference CK2914, but became even better with today’s standards when it comes to anti-magnetism," adds Broer. "Where the cage of faraday functioned as an anti-magnetism construction in the past, the new Omega is designed in a more clever way, using anti-magnetic alloys for essential movement components. On top, the Railmaster still has this utilitarian look and feel to it. Understated, perfect for someone in the field.”

Here’s the history lesson. The Railmaster completes Omega’s trilogy of watches designed to make the wearer a master of whatever it is they’re dealing with. And just like the Seamaster is designed for the ocean, and the Speedmaster for racing, the Railmaster is designed for the railway (although if we’re being picky, it does technically fall under the Seamaster umbrella). It was designed with railway engineers and scientists in mind with its 1,000 gauss magnetic resistance (magnetism can mess with your watch's balance spring, causing it to run faster and less accurately). Obviously most watches are resistant to this stuff in 2025, but back then, this was top level horology produced only for a couple of years before it left the catalogue.

“The Omega Railmaster is a perfect fit for Dr. Henry Loomis: it’s built for adventure, tough enough for the field, and precise enough for a scientist. With its anti-magnetic movement and rugged design, it’s a watch that can handle the demands of a paleontologist while still looking effortlessly stylish. It’s a timepiece made for discovery,” says Stan Duin from Vintage Masters. Yes, the Railmaster is the kind of thing you can rock while you’re fighting dinosaurs, but it looks great with a suit, jeans, or any kind of chill fit. Basically – it’s an the ideal all-rounder.

The Railmaster doesn’t have James Bond and Nasa co-signs like the Seamaster and Speedmaster. But it is an understated reminder of Omega’s tool watch innovation that can be passed on between generations. Naturally this packs on the collector clout that gets proper watch guys going. Jonathan Bailey, who was introduced to Omega through his grandad’s vintage De Ville, falls into this camp, which makes his Jurassic World Rebirth watch all the more fitting. “There's a sense of endurance and strength to a watch that gets handed down through generations,” says Bailey. “The older I get, the more I think about legacy and about time and about how you spend it and how you cherish it.”

Source

[oftenwantedafton]

personal space | steve raglan x f!reader

chapter four

Explicit content, 8k words, revised 4/9/25

ao3 link

Steve Raglan is falling behind on his work.

Not that mundane career counselor job; no, he means the other. The research. No new suitable candidates have crossed paths with him lately, and even if they had, he could hardly set up that job placement in your presence.

There is still other, more routine work to be done at the restaurant, too.

That’s where he is now, late Thursday evening, hands buried inside the chest cavity of one of the animatronic suits. The springlocks had felt a little loose the last time he’d worn the costume. He doesn’t want another equipment failure; he’s borne the consequences of the previous one for nearly two decades, as evidenced by the scars covering most of his body.

He knows the rabbit suit like the back of his hand; he could find the most minute components blindfolded. It doesn’t matter that the workroom is poorly lit or the specially customized tools that had belonged to his former business partner are showing signs of aging; he knows what needs to be done by feel, his calloused fingertips stroking over metal, counting each segment until he locates the ones that had seemed faulty. Yes, there. He keeps one hand in place as a marker and reaches around on the table until he locates a set of pliers, then plunges back into the torso. Maybe he should have had his daughter on hand to assist. He could have directed orders like a surgeon, but instead of asking for a scalpel or suctioning tool, he’d be requesting wrenches and bolts. It’s really not so different, operating on this animatronic, finessing metal instead of flesh. The latter would not even disturb him. He’s used to the sight of blood, cleaning up the worst of it during those times when Vanny is finally overwhelmed, begging for a reprieve, bursting through the nearest exit for fresh air and wretching while he picks up where she left off scrubbing at the stubborn bits of gore clinging to furniture or floors or walls. She’s too soft to be a police officer, in some ways, but the career has been invaluable for his own gruesome pursuits, so he’s more forgiving than he might otherwise have been.

His mind wanders, and now it settles upon thoughts of you.

The way the late afternoon sunlight had cradled your face as you’d accompanied him out of the building earlier; that pretty blush of color across your cheek when you’d caught him staring. Your fingers brushing against his, walking so close by his side. Lingering in the parking lot, delaying farewells. Almost the weekend. The wedding. How had you talked him into going? Oh, yes. That smile. That smile that undoes him every time. Weakens his resolve and fuels his desire, makes him imagine what it would be like to sink inside of you for the first time, as effortlessly as a hot knife through butter, mouth latched on your throat, fingers knotted in your hair, his hips pressing forward again and again…

“Fuck!”

He’s lost his place inside Spring Bonnie. His grip on the pliers slips and the segment of steel ricochets back, slicing across four of his knuckles. Jerking his hand back, drops of blood patter along the inside of the mascot. He grabs an oil stained rag from the workstation’s surface and swiftly wraps it around his injured hand. Stupid. Absolutely moronic to let himself be distracted while working on dangerous components like these. Cautiously lifting the impromptu bandage, he assesses how deep the cuts are. Shallow. So no sutures needed, then. But they hurt like a bitch. He needs to get cleaned up, make sure they don’t get infected. This is about as far from a sterile environment as one can get.

The bearded man nearly trips on a wet floor sign as he exits the workroom, cursing again and kicking the offensive yellow object out of the way. The place is more disorganized than usual. That last guard had put up more of a fight than he’d anticipated, and while Vanessa had done a thorough job of disposing of evidence, the pizzeria could do with a good tidying. Something to put in the job description of his next hire, perhaps. He really needs to get on that, as soon as he’s done orienting you.

A leaden feeling in his gut at that last notion. He’s gotten so used to your presence so quickly. Cheerful and youthful and vibrant. A breath of fresh air. Sweet smile. Such soft skin, nothing like his own. Do you think about him the way he thinks about you? You must. You reach for him so often. He wants to let you get closer. But it’s dangerous. So, so dangerous. Better to keep some distance between you, for both your sakes’. He’s more unnerved than he’d let on about that CCTV footage capturing him. Now he’s sustaining injuries because he can’t keep his mind focused. He shakes his head in silent reprimand. Enough. He needs to get this tended to so he can get back to work.

Steve takes a quick detour to the security office to retrieve the first aid kit—this thankfully stocked properly, clearly Vanessa’s doing—and then ducks into the employee restroom and cranks the faucet on high, wincing when the blast of water hits his wounds and again when he lathers them with soap. At least, he supposes, it’s fortunate that his left, non-dominant hand was the one affected. Small comfort, but still. Another pair of hands would be helpful for this task, too, he muses as he binds his cuts.

Your touch would do wonders right now.

Stop that. Focus.

He scowls, finishing his bandaging and then returning to the workroom. The time displayed on his wristwatch is later than he’d like. This task is going to have to wait for another time to be completed. Maybe tomorrow night he can get Vanny to assist him. For now, he just wants to go home and crash. And if you enter his mind again, well. Far safer when he’s at home in bed.

“Tomorrow night, old friend,” he murmurs aloud to the yellow rabbit mascot, switching off the nearby desk lamp and exiting the workroom.

***

“I have a favor to ask,” you say the next afternoon during the workday lunch break. You’ve been debating about how best to approach this all morning, but any rehearsals in your mind all end with the career counselor denying your request. So the direct approach has won in the end, with you hoping for a very different real world result.

Steve glances at you, watching you wind more leftover spaghetti around your fork while he finishes chewing a bite from his sandwich. You’re eating together in his office today.

“What is it?” His voice sounds wary, eerily accurate to what you’d previously envisioned in your mind. No. Be confident. That’s what he likes.

“Relax, it’s nothing bad.” Your eyes are drawn to his bandaged fingers once again. An accident repairing something at home, he’d said. He wouldn’t elaborate any further. “I need help picking out the wedding gift.”

The older man’s lips part in disbelief. “You still haven’t gotten one yet? The wedding is tomorrow!”

“I know”, you reply hastily. “I just couldn’t find anything reasonable left on the registry. All the cheaper stuff has already been bought.” You rummage through the mail stacked to one side and set the stapled pages in front of your mentor.

“Well, naturally.” He wipes his fingers on a napkin, treating his left hand a little gingerly as he flips through the list quickly, then makes a disgusted sound and pushes the packet away. “Greedy. They’re asking for too much.”

“They just got a house,” you reply, sighing. “It’s tough when you’re first starting out. Everything is so expensive.”

“They’ll manage. Everyone does.” He takes a sip from a can of soda, frowning. “Just get a gift card.”

“That’s so boring, though. Thoughtless.”

“Not really. Then they can put it towards the purchase of whatever they still need.”

“No, I can’t do it. I’d feel so guilty. I hate it when I just get gift cards.”

Steve leans back in his chair. “Well, that’s your only option. You’re not going to spend hundreds of dollars on a couple you barely know. Get a gift card.”

“Come shopping with me,” you implore, clutching his sleeve. “After work.”

He shakes his head, balling the plastic wrap that had housed his sandwich into his fist. “I can’t. I have things to do. You shouldn’t have procrastinated.” He leans down to toss his trash in the wastebin underneath the desk and your fingers slip from his forearm.

“Oh, come on. I just found out about the wedding a few days ago! It’s not my fault. Please help me choose something. You must have some ideas. What did you need after your wedding?”

Another scowl. “I don’t recall.”

You don’t believe that for a second. But, he’s always touchy about the topic of his family, so you decide on another tactic. “I’ll treat you to dinner after. Whatever you want. You know all the best places.”

The bearded man sighs, and it does sound a bit regretful, which makes you feel marginally better. “I can’t. I have to finish the work I started last night.”

“You can do that on Sunday, can’t you?”

“I’d prefer to get it done sooner.”

“What if I helped you with it, and then we went out?”

“No,” he says sharply, causing you to flinch. Then his voice gentles. “It’s…not safe.”

“Then you shouldn’t be doing it either. I still don’t understand how you got hurt. What were you doing?”

“Maintenance on some equipment, like I told you.” His gaze evades yours. He’s definitely not telling you the truth.

“That’s so vague,” you complain.

“Look, just get the gift card.”

“Steve, come on. Please?”

“I don’t even like these people. I can count the number of conversations I’ve had with them on one hand.”

“What happened to socializing and networking and all that? Besides, you don’t really like anyone, from what I can see,” you counter. “Except maybe, I hope, me.”

He grunts, running his fingers over the condensation beading on the side of his soda can. “You’re tolerable.”

“Tolerable? Seriously?” You shove his arm playfully. “When I’m nice enough to bring you dessert every day?”

A flicker of interest sparks in his eyes. “What did you bring today?”

“I’m not showing you until you agree to go shopping with me.”

“Blackmail. How devious of you.” His lips twitch in amusement.

“Come with me. I promise it’ll be fun.”

“You’re not going to let this drop, are you?”

“Nope.”

“What’s for dessert?” He leans over to reach inside your lunch tote but you quickly grab the bag and rise, backing away slowly from the desk.

“Promise me we’re going out after work.”

Steve stands, advancing towards you. “I’m not promising anything. Hand it over.”

“No deal.” You tuck your hands behind your back. You’ve reached the opposite wall with its display of the district map. There’s nowhere left to go.

He stops just inches from you, hesitating before he curls an arm around your waist, pulling you swiftly against one hip.

“Hey!” Your protest fades and you relax, dropping the tote and resting a hand against his chest. His face tilts to regard you, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose.

“Stubborn girl,” he says, smirking. “You’ve no idea how much trouble you cause. Fine. I’ll go.”

You smile and he bends lower. Your stomach flutters. Is he going to kiss you?

A knock on the door startles you both. Raglan quickly moves to open it while you bend to retrieve your lunch bag.

One of the secretaries hands the older career counselor something, looking curiously at your crouching figure before departing.

“Door stays open from now on,” he warns under his breath, walking back to his desk. Worried about others thinking something is going on behind it when it’s closed, perhaps. Maybe gossip and rumors spreading. Well, you’re not ashamed of anything. Your coworker might feel differently, though.

You shrug and nod, setting the tote on the desk to unzip it and extracting a sealed plastic container. “Cherry cheesecake.”

Steve groans, lifting the lid and glancing appreciatively at your offering. “There goes my waistline. I’m going to have to use a different notch in my belt pretty soon.”

“I don’t mind a dad bod,” you murmur, resisting the urge to poke his tummy. In truth, he looks exactly the same as he had when you’d first started working here two weeks ago, but you suppose underneath clothes things might be a little different.

“You might not, but I do.”

You pass him a plastic fork, then lean over to press your lips against his deltoid before digging into your own portion. It’s the only type of kiss he’s allowed from you thus far, and you still offer them sparingly, cautious about provoking another lecture or having him force you away from him. “Thank you for agreeing to come out with me.”

“You’re welcome.” He hesitates, rolling the utensil between his fingers before he finally cleaves a piece off of the cheesecake and brings it to his mouth.

“What do you think?” You lick some of the stray cherry syrup from your fork, waiting for his reaction.

“Heavenly,” he finally moans around the mouthful.

“I’ll bring it more often, then.”

“You really shouldn’t.”

“How often do you have a woman cook for you?”

“As of late, never.”

“What about your daughter?”

“Our schedules don’t really align,” he mutters, stabbing a cherry.

Some obvious tension there, you think, but you don’t dare pry further just yet. “See? Now I’m obligated to.”

“I know how to cook,” he replies around another forkful. “I just can’t be bothered.”

“Because you’re too busy.”

“Exactly.”

“Doing what? I’m intrigued now. What’s got you keeping such late hours?”

“It wouldn’t interest you.”

“It might.”

“Finish your food. Break is almost over.” He points to the clock with his fork.

You briefly debate about pressing him further but ultimately decide against it. He’s agreed to go out with you (okay, you’d left the word shopping out just then and maybe that’s intentional, but still) that’s more than you could have hoped for.

Besides, you really do need to get a gift.

***

Just after 6pm on Friday evening finds you at one of the anchor stores at the local shopping mall.

“Alright, which aisle do you want to start with?” Steve drags a shopping cart free from its brethren, waiting for your guidance.

You tilt your head to one side, considering. “I’m not sure.”

He pushes the cart forward and immediately glowers over what seems to be a rogue front wheel. “I swear I get the broken cart every time,” he mutters, abandoning it and exchanging it for another. “I actually have a suggestion.”

“Really?”

He looks at you solemnly. “Get a gift card.”

You shove his arm and he chuckles. “Not helpful.”

“Okay, in all seriousness. This is going to be some work, but…what about putting together a gift basket with his and hers items? Matching robes, mugs, things like that?”

“Ooh, I like that idea.” You nod enthusiastically. “And everyone needs picture frames, we can throw in a couple of those, too. Alright, lead the way. I’ve never even been in here.”

“I suppose you haven’t had a chance to do much shopping yet,” he muses, setting a reasonable pace past a jewelry counter and a selection of handbags.

“Not really. The guy that’s training me at work is a real hardass.”

“You are spoiled and you know it.” He nudges your arm and you rest a hand near his on the handle of the shopping cart.

“What are you wearing tomorrow?”

“Sports jacket, dress shirt, tie. Not much different from what I wear to the office. It’s already laid out. What about you?” He pauses, his eyes narrowing. “You haven’t delayed choosing an outfit yet, have you?”

You stand a little straighter. “You’ll be proud to know I’ve actually gotten my dress ready. It’s on a hanger in the walk in closet waiting for me. Shoes and jewelry and everything all picked out, too.”

“Congratulations. Behaving like a responsible adult. What’s that like for you?” He inquires drily.

You smirk. “I don’t know. What’s it like behaving like a total—”

Steve glanced around hurriedly, then lays a finger across your lips and leans close to your ear. “Don’t finish that thought if you want to go to dinner after this.”

You grab his wrist, jerking his hand down. “You already agreed. You can’t back out now.”

He hums in amusement, his face moving back to study yours at a distance that tempts you to just close the remaining inches and steal a kiss (but he’d never allow that, would he?) before he straightens and resumes pushing the cart until he locates the display of picture frames. You select a 5x7 and 8x10 with solid black frames, classic choices neutral enough to match any room, your fellow social worker advises. Then it’s off to housewares for a set of white coffee mugs (again, practical choices that could accommodate any color scheme their new kitchen has), a breakfast tray with a cute tiny strawberry pattern on it (this had been your selection, and since nothing else seemed to appeal to your mentor’s tastes, he’d allowed you this victory), a stainless steel electric kettle which you don’t recall seeing on the list but think is a great idea, and then finally the women’s clothing department to choose the first of a pair of bathrobes.

“I don’t know what size she wears,” you realize as you browse the selection. There are a few satin ones that definitely lean towards lingerie more than the simpler terrycloth counterpart that your companion seems set on.

“That’s alright. We’ll get a large. They’re meant to be oversized anyway.”

You add a pink robe to the growing pile of objects in the shopping cart, eyeing a few bras and panties and cute pajamas that might be good additions to your own wardrobe, but Steve’s already moved on, choosing a royal blue garment similar to the one you’d placed in the cart. “Okay, so what are we putting all this stuff in?”

“I have an idea about that, too. Something that doubles as a practical item.” Now you’re led to some woven totes perfect for laundry or other storage. “Then a roll of cellophane to wrap it all up and a card and we’re done. You’re picking the card out,” he adds.

You spend a few minutes browsing the greeting cards while he retrieves a roll of clear, iridescent tinted cellophane wrap. The sentiments are all about the same inside, so you randomly select one with the introduction “From the Both of Us” and declare your shopping finished.

There’s a bit of a line to checkout since it’s a Friday night but you don’t mind, sneaking glances at your mentor while you’re waiting and glancing over the magazine covers and impulse items stocked nearby. When it’s finally your turn, Steve helps you unload the carriage and insists on paying, a gesture that you try to refuse but ultimately accept. Midway through digging into his wallet for a credit card a voice interrupts him.

“Dad?”

He freezes, his head turning to regard a young blonde woman in a police officer’s uniform standing behind him, just finishing the process of retrieving a soda bottle from the refrigerated case beside the checkout lane.

“Vanessa,” he greets shortly, tugging free the credit card he was looking for and handing it to the cashier.

“Wait, this is your daughter? The Hello Kitty fan?” You peer curiously at the woman, trying to discern any resemblance between them, but you don’t see anything immediately obvious.

Steve is still managing to avoid eye contact with either of you. “Yes,” he replies with a sigh, his fingers nervously tapping the edge of the conveyor belt.

“Hi! I work with your dad. We’re getting stuff for a wedding for two of our coworkers tomorrow,” you supply.

“Never expected to see you out shopping at the mall. Or going to a wedding,” she aims in her father’s direction. “I’m Vanessa,” she says, reaching past him to shake your hand. You notice the last name Shelly on the name tag pinned to her uniform shirt. So she’s married, then.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

The cashier indicates that Steve needs to sign the touch screen and he quickly scribbles something with the stylus that does not even remotely match what you’ve seen at work. Sloppy. In a rush to leave, clearly. What is it with him and his daughter, anyway? The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Maybe he doesn’t approve of his son or daughter in law. That must be it.

“We should get going. I’ll talk to you later,” he tosses over his shoulder.

“Um, yeah. Enjoy your break. It was nice meeting you,” you offer, feeling bad at the abrupt departure you’re being pressed into.

Unlike the leisurely pace he’d previously set, Steve practically races to the parking lot, the items in the cart jostling together as he finds various cracks and holes in the pavement. You hurry to keep up, watching as he unlocks the trunk of his car and begins unloading the shopping bags.

“Steve, hey. Slow down. Everything okay?”

“Fine.” He sets another bag down and something that might be the coffee mugs or the glass panel picture frames clink together alarmingly.

You quickly peek inside to make sure nothing is broken. “Take it easy, will you?”

Ignoring your request, he finishes emptying the cart and then slams the trunk shut while you return it to the storage area. He’s already inside the car with the engine started by the time you return. You settle into the passenger seat and stare hard at the driver who seems intent on studying the car parked in front of his own.

“Steve.”

“What?”

“Look at me.” Stormy blue gray eyes meet yours. “What’s going on? I know it’s kind of a tradition for parents to hate their in-laws, but don’t you think you’re taking it a bit far? Especially when the person isn’t even here to defend themselves.”

He frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“Vanessa’s spouse. That’s why you’re upset, right? Come on, they can’t be that terrible.”

“Vanny’s not married,” he says, still looking puzzled for a moment, then his expression clears. “The badge. She…changed her last name.”

“Why?”

“Because she doesn’t want to be associated with me.” He flicks the rabbit’s foot on his keyring and it begins swinging back and forth.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“What are you sorry for? Of course you didn’t know.” He rests his injured hand on the steering wheel. “Guess this kind of killed the mood, didn’t it?”

“I’d still like to take you to dinner,” you say softly. “We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.”

A quick glance in the rearview mirror, then he looks over at you. “It’s too crowded here. I want to go someplace quiet.”

“Okay. Anywhere you want.”

”Alright. I have a place in mind. Let’s go.”

***

Steve’s not used to being seen in public with his daughter.

He can’t even recall the last occassion that had necessitated it. To say that it had been somewhat of a shock to bump into Vanessa at the mall is putting it mildly. Perhaps if you hadn’t been there it wouldn’t have been so jarring.

He doesn’t want to explain things; doesn’t want to justify his relationship with you to her or explain why theirs is so poor with you. Keeping things businesslike with Vanny has made things so much simpler. Feelings always complicate everything.

You complicate everything.

He settles across from you in the basement level of a Mexican restaurant, a dingy joint downtown that has cheap food and strong drinks. He’s not here for the cuisine, though; he’s here for you.

A bad idea, this. Because every venture in public is always a risk. At work things are controlled. Screening names of applicants. Meeting people one on one. No familiar faces. Not one individual has ever recognized him. He’s disguised himself well. But there’s always the chance that someone will remember him as the pizzeria owner. The place where so much death had happened. Accidental. Intentional. The lines between them had blurred at some point. Indistinguishable. Irrelevant.

He orders a lite beer and it vanishes quickly. You take your time with a strawberry Margarita, stirring and sipping, glancing around at the decor outside the booth. The seats have high walls partitioning each section, keeping things more private. One of the reasons he’d chosen this place.

“So I’ll pick you up at five tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He watches you run a fingernail across the grouting between two tiles of the table’s surface.

“Is your drink good?”

“Yeah, it’s yummy.” You sample more of the pink tinted beverage.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You resume tracing the patterns of the tiles. “I just wish you trusted me more. You know I would never repeat anything to anyone.”

Steve drains the last of his beer. “It’s got nothing to do with trust. You don’t want to get involved in all this mess, believe me. It’s too complicated. Too much water under the bridge.”

“We could have invited her out with us. I wouldn’t have minded.”

“She’s on the clock, remember?”

“Well, okay, yeah. Then another time.”

“I don’t think so.” He signals to the waitress for another drink, briefly holding up the empty bottle before setting it down again, then reaches for your hand. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

You frown, chewing your bottom lip before nodding.

The arrival of a platter of loaded nachos provides a momentary distraction, easing the burden of conversation temporarily. He wants to tell you how pretty you look, with your hair falling out of place and your cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol. He wishes he could admit how much he longs to unfasten just one more button of your blouse and slip his hand inside that opening, resting his palm against your skin, then lean over and steal the kiss he’s been desperate for while your heartbeat bounds against his fingertips.

But it would never stop there. He knows this. One kiss would lead to so many more. One button on the blouse become all of them undone. He wouldn’t stop until your body was naked against his. Then an avalanche of tasting and touching. Fucking you. Marking you. Claiming you.

And you still wouldn’t know who you’d been intimate with, who you’d so readily given yourself to after all of that. Lusting for someone who doesn’t actually exist. The camouflage that is Steve Raglan. Just a grouchy middle aged social worker with a strained relationship with his daughter that you think you can fix.

If only you knew the man actually hiding beneath.

“Steve?”

“Hmmm?” He realizes he’s been staring at the dessert menu tucked into the napkin holder. His gaze shifts to your face. “What did you say?”

“I asked who’s wrapping the gift for tomorrow?”

“Oh. I can do that. It’ll be easier than bringing it to your place and then having you bring it back down again. I’ll do a nice job packing it up.”

“Okay.” You select a cheese drenched tortilla chip from the center of the pile, dipping it in salsa and sour cream. “How long do you think we’ll be there for?”

He shrugs. “It depends. A few hours, probably. Long enough to be courteous.”

“At least it won’t be too hot. I checked the forecast again. Perfect weather for being outdoors.” You wait for him to choose something from the platter before scooping up another morsel.

“It’s a nice venue,” he agrees. “The country club has a decent restaurant, too. We should go sometime.”

You smile, and he feels some of the tension easing from his shoulders. He hasn’t completely ruined things. Not yet.

“I’d like that.” The smile fades. “Thank you for coming out with me. I know you had stuff to do. And…well, I know we had that little speed bump earlier…”

A speed bump named Vanessa, he thinks, but remains silent.

“…But overall, I’d say it’s been a pretty good evening.”

“If this was a blind date you’d probably never ask for another.”

“Yeah, I would.”

“Then you’re a glutton for punishment.”

“It’s okay not to be miserable, you know.”

“I’m not miserable. I’m…” He hesitates, faltering over a more suitable adjective choice.

“Yeah.” You nudge his shin under the table. “Like I said.”

“I’m not sure why you find me so irresistible, to be honest.”

“Irresistible?” You laugh. “Okay, and add arrogant to that as well.”

“Just proving my point for me.”

You set your glass down and reach for his fingers resting near his beer. “Okay. Being totally serious now. You’ve been great. I’ve learned a lot. I mean, maybe in the beginning you were a lot stricter and abrasive, but you’ve definitely mellowed out more, especially this past week. Letting me see another side of you.”

“I don’t know about that,” he mutters, letting his calloused fingertips stroke over your hand. Here you were, trying to comfort him and smooth things over when he was the one who should be stepping up and doing these things. He just can’t quite bring himself to do it. It would be too easy to let that slide into something else. That thing he can’t let happen.

“I’m glad you’re my friend.”

Steve exhales, his eyes meeting yours. A friend. When was the last time he’d counted anyone as such? His former best one had become his worst enemy. Why should you be any different?

“I enjoy spending time with you.”

“I think maybe we should consider this your last drink,” he teases.

“I’ve only had two,” you say dismissively. “I think if I needed you, you’d come to my rescue. That first time I called you, you sounded so concerned. And sleepy,” you chide, nudging his leg again. “You’re spending too many late nights doing whatever it is you’re doing.”

“Wait until you’re my age. You’ll understand fatigue better.”

“Would you have come to rescue me?”

“I guess so,” he replies evasively. “We’ve pretty much demolished these nachos. Are you still okay with skipping to dessert, or did you want to get an entree?”

It’s a clumsy attempt to shift the conversation, and he has no doubts that you’re well aware of it. But you graciously allow it, answering his query. “Dessert.”

“Okay. I recommend the fried ice cream, but have a look.” He lifts the menu and sets it in front of you, but your eyes remain locked on his face.

“I’ll get that, then.”

“You don’t want to see what else they have?”

“No, I trust your judgment.”

”Alright.”

Once the table has been cleared and two dessert plates set down, Steve waits for you to take the first bite, digging into coated vanilla ice cream and a cinnamon dusted tortilla shell drizzled with chocolate sauce and covered with whipped cream. The rapturous look on your face says it all and he grins, diving into his own portion.

“Okay, this is pretty much the best thing ever. Holy cow. How have I never tried this before?”

“I told you it was delicious.”

“Well now I feel like anything I know how to make is vastly inferior.”

“I strongly disagree. All of your creations have been fantastic so far.”

“Really? You’re just being nice.”

He raises an eyebrow. “When am I ever nice?”

“You’re right.”

He reaches underneath the table to squeeze your knee, letting his hand linger when the playful mood passes. You’re wearing a skirt today. It hits you right below the knee. Easy enough to gather the material and let his fingers dart underneath, massaging the joint.

You let the spoon sink into the melting ice cream, the treat suddenly forgotten as you stare at him, your pupils dilating. There’s a stray bit of chocolate clinging to the corner of your bottom lip that’s driving him mad, the desire to lick that spot clean, to lick your mouth open running in a river rush of heat down his spine.

“Steve,” you say quietly.

He shifts his hand back to his own lap, hating himself for being able to refuse to pursue this any further. He’s nearly jealous of your feelings for this persona he’s adopted, and how absurd is that? “Finish up. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow,” he says gruffly.

Back outside your apartment a half hour later, he pulls up to the main entrance. Your seatbelt is stuck again, but he doesn’t trust himself to help you remove it. Another touch or two might just crumble his resolve just then.

“Thanks again. I had a great time,” you murmur once you’ve finally managed to release the buckle.

“See you tomorrow.”

You look at him, your eyes so full of want that he knows is mirrored in his own. But he can’t.

He can’t let you get any closer than you already have.

***

You think that maybe, just maybe, the outfit you’re wearing is a slam dunk.

You appraise your appearance a final time in the dresser mirror on Saturday afternoon. The violet sleeveless lace affair with its modest neckline clings flatteringly to your figure and the hem hits you perfectly. You’re having one of those rare good hair days where your cow licks are subdued and the whispier flyaway strands are cooperative, the tresses actually sleek and tidy looking. Natural, clean makeup applied. A cute, tiny clutch that even Raglan can’t condemn. And lastly, the shoes. They’re not terribly comfortable, but they are attractive. High heeled. Thin straps with tiny crystal studded flowers. You take a few practice steps back and forth in the kitchen. You think you can manage them. It’s not like you’ll be standing the whole time, anyway. At least, you don’t think you will. You’ve no idea what to expect, really, since it’s your first wedding.

You get your first confirmation that you’ve chosen wisely regarding your attire when you see the expression on Steve’s face as you settle inside the car. He has to clear his throat before he can properly greet you. “Hi. You uh…you look very nice.”

You grin, smoothing your hands over the lower half of the dress even though it doesn’t need it. “Thank you. Not immature, right? Not going to be embarrassed to be seen with me?” you tease.

“No,” he manages to choke out.

“No, not immature, or no, not embarrassed to be seen with me?”

“Neither.”

”Good. You look very dapper as well.”

”Dapper?”

”This stupid thing won’t…there, I’ve got it.” The seatbelt fastens with a click. “Handsome. Is that better?”

”If you say so.” His tone is stern, but you think he looks a little pleased by the praise all the same. ”Here. Before I forget, sign the card.” He leans to retrieve an envelope from the dashboard and hands it to you, then grabs a ballpoint pen from the cupholder and offers it as well. You extract the greeting card, glancing over the embossed lillies adorning the outside before opening it to find Steve has added no further sentiments beyond what was already printed inside, merely signing his name at the bottom. This version, at least, looked more familiar than that awkward scrawl at the department store last night.

You add your name beside his along with a note of congratulations and then seal the envelope, tossing the pen back into the cupholder. “Got everything all wrapped?”

”Yes. Take a look in the backseat.”

You turn to see the tote with its contents encased in the shiny cellophane and nod approvingly. “It looks good.” You tuck the card inside and then face forward. “Okay, I’m ready.”

”Got the invitation?”

Your mouth falls open. “No! I completely forgot. Let me go run and get it.”

”I had a feeling you might. Lucky for you I still have my copy.” He reaches inside his jacket, flashing the corner of the ivory card before securing it once more.

”You kept yours? I would have thought you’d have tossed it out.”

”That does sound like something I’d do. But I found it when I was cleaning up my desk the other day and thought I’d hang onto it just in case.” He glances over at you and smiles gently. “Don’t look so nervous. They would have let us in anyway.”

”You never know. People crash weddings.” You fuss with your clutch. “I am nervous,” you admit.

”There’s nothing to worry about, save sheer boredom and cringe speeches and lousy catering. You’ll see.”

***

Steve Raglan occupies a seat in the last row aligned in front of the gazebo where the engaged couple is to be wed, one spot in from the center aisle while you settle into the folding chair beside his, the gift you’d collaborated on placed on the table with the other offerings after a few pleasantries had been exchanged with fellow coworkers.

He can feel the anticipation wafting from you, noticing your fidgeting and hissing a reprimand when reassurances don’t seem to be working. It’s like holding the collar of a golden retriever puppy, all full of nervous energy, unintentionally misbehaving.

He doesn’t know the couple getting married that well. They’d met at work, and that was about the extent of what he was aware of, deeming any further knowledge irrelevant. He does know that you look stunning and he’s caught multiple attendees looking you over, igniting more than one flare of jealousy. The music cues up and the audience quiets down as the bride begins walking down the aisle beside her father. Steve is very pointedly avoiding thinking about his own personal experience with getting married. It was a lifetime ago now, when he’d been someone else.

An exchange of custom vows crafted by the couple follows. His lips press in a thin line of distaste until he observes how charmed you seemed by this gesture, raptly watching the ceremony. As predicted, the catering proves to be disappointing. Small portions. Bland food. Slice of cake so thin you could practically see through it. His face actually hurts from plastering a smile on it so often. He murmurs the same noncommittal greetings to everyone he encounters, eventually issuing the obligatory congratulations to the newlyweds when his turn arrives. People finally start to break off into smaller groups to socialize. Casual music plays after the wedded couple has their first dance and the makeshift dance floor that’s been created becomes filled with guests and family members.

“Do you dance?”

Your voice interrupts his reverie. “Not to this contemporary selection, no.” His arms are folded across his chest again, a display of closed body language indicating he wants to be left alone; by the other wedding guests, anyway. You’re the rare exception. The rest of the table he’s seated at is mercifully devoid of anyone else at the moment. No small talk has to be made.

“But you can dance,” you persist.

He supposes that yes, he can. Or at least, he has in the past. Certainly no time in recent memory has warranted it. “I’m sure you’re more familiar with these songs than I am. You should go over there. Have fun.”

You shake your head. “Come walk with me instead.”

He glances over at you. “And go where?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. It’s a country club. Plenty of places to go. I need to stretch my legs. Come on, Steve. Please?”

He considers the well lit area they’re currently seated in and weighs that against the idea of being alone with you somewhere else cloaked in shadows. It’s hardly a difficult decision to make. “Alright. For a few minutes,” he concedes, shrugging out of his jacket and leaving it draped over the back of his chair.

The older man is surprised when you choose to go off the beaten path, abandoning the paved and gravel lined routes in favor of exploring the golf course itself. You’re clearly struggling to walk in your shoes, the spiked tips sinking into the cropped grass once the wedding party area has been left behind. He recognizes your troubles almost immediately. “You want to head back?”

”No. Can you just help me take them off? It’s hard for me to bend in this,” you murmur apologetically. Steve nods, squatting down to unfasten the buckles, sliding each shoe off and handing them to you. You carry them hooked over your fingers as you continue your trek further onto the golf course. There’s water near this tee, faintly visible as it reflects the moonlight above. The sounds of the gathering have completely faded now.

”So what did you think of your first wedding?”

”It was nice. They seem so happy.” The older man grunts noncommittally. “Do you think you’d ever remarry?”

Raglan barks a laugh. “Me? Never. I learned my lesson the first time.” A pause. “What about you?”

”I don’t know. Maybe someday, I guess.” You halt and he stops, turning back in your direction. You let your shoes drop. “Okay. Now dance with me.”

Steve frowns. “What? That wasn’t part of the deal. You just said you wanted to take a walk.”

“No one can see us over here.”

“There isn’t even any music.”

“I’ll hum for you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

You step closer to stand in front of him, reaching to gently clasp the bandaged hand while your other fingers curl over his shoulder. He reluctantly places his free hand stiffly on your waist. He doesn’t want to do this. Why does he keep giving in to you?

Whatever melody you’re attempting to recreate is unrecognizable. He feels foolish as he turns you in a circle, trying to execute actual dance steps on the grassy surface. An abrupt dip down, your spine cradled against his hand, has you shriek and giggle like mad. Now he’s actually smiling, too. Enjoying this random, frivolous moment. Enjoying you.

You suddenly stumble a bit, wincing, your improvised tune abruptly ending. “Time out. Sorry, my feet are killing me. I feel like I’m getting a blister.”

“I think there’s a bench over by the water. Yes, there is. Here, sit down. I’ll grab your shoes.” You obey, settling onto one end of the wooden structure. He joins you, setting your shoes on the ground near his feet. “Alright, let’s check your—oh.” You’ve shifted, now sitting sideways, your stockinged feet occupying his lap. His hands gently begin probing once he’s recovered from his initial surprise, assessing each sole. “No blisters yet that I can feel, but you should probably keep the shoes off as much as possible. You’re not used to wearing heels, are you?” He hasn’t paid much attention up until now, but he thinks you’ve always worn flats to the office.

“No. And they’re brand new. I just got them because they matched the dress. I thought they were pretty.” He hums, partially in agreement, partially in disapproval. “That feels nice.” He still hasn’t stopped caressing you, continuing to massage your sore extremities without even realizing what he’s doing, moving from your feet to your ankles to your shins and calves.

Then he halts, his hands abruptly abandoning you. Too much temptation. He has to stop touching you. “Anyway, you’ll be fine,” he says dismissively, knowing it sounds harsh. You sigh, moving until your legs are properly aligned beneath you, your bare shoulder now brushing against his shirtsleeve.

“Can I ask you something personal?”

“I can’t promise I’ll answer, but go ahead.”

“Why do you always wear long sleeves?”

“Overstepping again,” he cautions curtly.

“You told me I needed to be more aggressive with the applicants. Firm. Decisive. Direct. Focused. Get right to the point.”

“True, but I’m not a client. At least you’re retaining something,” he adds. Not mocking. Maybe a little proud.

“It doesn’t bother me if…”

“If what?” He prompts.

“If you have some, I don’t know, some condition you’re ashamed of.”

“It’s not a condition, exactly.” He hesitates. He could just consider the discussion over, but something about being in this near darkness makes revealing the truth seem a little safer. He fumbles with the button of his shirt cuff, shoving it up to his elbow and then reaches for your hand, guiding your fingertips to his forearm.

“Scars,” you realize aloud. “What happened? Are they burns?”

“No. A…mechanical accident at a previous job. And no, I’m not giving you any more information than that.” Your fingers continue to trace the furrowed skin. At first the movements seem curious. Then the touches evolve into more of a caress. They feel good. He doesn’t want them to, but God, they do. Stroking a secret part of him that’s been concealed for so long feels so deliciously sinful. He swallows loudly when you lift his arm, allowing you to manipulate the limb until your lips graze the inside of his wrist. Fuck. Immediate heat to his groin. He needs to stop this, right now. “You shouldn’t…I’m not who you think I am.” He tugs his arm free of your grasp.

“What do you mean? Steve?”

It’s exactly what he needs, hearing that false name just then, bringing him back to reality. The person that you want doesn’t exist. Not really. It’s the facade you like. Not the man underneath. You don’t know who he really is. Can never know, because discovering that would drive you away from him for good, and he can’t accept that.

He bends to retrieve your heels and stands. “We should probably leave.” He hates pushing out every word. Absolutely despises himself for not grabbing you and pressing you down beneath him and kissing you under the stars. But at least you’re safe. That was more important.

He knows you’re hurt and confused. That happy little bubble you’d recreated around the two of them popped yet again. Stiff goodbyes are issued to the bride and groom before leaving. The ride back to your apartment is silent.

“Thanks for going with me,” you murmur as he pulls in front of the main entrance.

“I’m glad I did. Genuinely.” It is surprisingly the truth. He’d enjoyed himself, in spite of everything. Because of you. He likes being with you.

“I don’t understand you.” You reach for his hand, and he allows it. Because really, at this point, what does it matter if it happens once or twice or a dozen times? He’s already crossed a line with you he never should have. “Why do you fight yourself so much?” Your voice is quiet.

Because that hand you’re holding so gently has done terrible things. Because there is so little keeping me from doing what I want, from tearing right through this fragile barrier between us.

Those are the real answers, but of course he can’t tell you that. So he simply says “Because.” Which is no answer at all. He stares at your still joined fingers. “It’s not a rejection based on your merit as a person. You deserve to know that.”

“Is it because we work together?”

“Well, that’s a definite drawback. Workplace relationships are never a good idea.”

“The age gap?”

“Are you calling me old again?”

“Maybe.” A small smile appears, but fades quickly.

“That’s another concern. But that’s not the main reason.”

You shift in your seat, turning your body more to his. “What is the main reason?”

“I can’t tell you that. Not any differently than I already have.”

“But you do like me.”

“Yes, I like you,” he admits, his voice tight. His gaze shifts to the windshield. It’s too difficult to look at you. To see that hope, that desire he’s certain is mirrored on his own features.

”Like me as more than a friend, I mean. Find me attractive,” you continue, seeking obvious clarification.

”Yes, I find you extremely attractive.” His eyes flick to yours. “And yes, I like you as more than a friend. I shouldn’t, but I do.”

You reach for his glasses, slipping them free before he can stop you. You carefully fold them and tuck your arm behind your back. You know what you’re doing. He knows it, too. Playing along. Leaning. Grasping. Tugging the gold framed lenses free. Your face tips up. That ripe mouth he wants to defile is just within reach. So close. Just the slightest movement would bring his lips to yours. Touching you. Tasting you. The barest little shift is all that’s required.

He suddenly leans back, jerking away from you, his gaze quickly diverting so he doesn’t have to see the lust and hurt mingling in yours. “You should go inside and soak your feet and get some rest. I’ll see you Monday.” It’s a cold dismissal, contrasting so starkly from the warmth you’ve stoked inside of him. He heaves a shuddering sigh when you finally exit his car, watching your retreating figure. He wants to chase after you. Drag you against him. Witness your surrender.

And you would, too. He knows you’d succumb to him. Do whatever he wanted.

If only he’d ask.

[official-ilvermorny]

Tarot and the Ilvermorny Houses

In recent years, I have learned more about Divination, the art of looking into hidden parts of the past, present, and future using one’s own inner eye guided by certain magical tools. Throughout my studies, I have come to realize that there are certain parallels that can be drawn between the suits of the minor arcana in Tarot and the houses at Ilvermorny. Each of the suits – Coins, Swords, Cups, and Wands – is often associated with a different area of life, much like the four individual “parts” of a magic user often associated with each Ilvermorny House. It is from this approach that this essay will attempt to further explore the nuances of the Ilvermorny Houses and their admittees.

Wampus — Coins

Wampus is known as the House of the Body, and the tarot suit of Coins is associated with the physical realm. The Coins deal primarily with finances, work, physical health, and anything that may belong to the realm of the five senses – what we can touch and hold. Thus, if this exploration holds any merit, we may see Wampuses grounded in the physical world, concerned primarily with what is happening in real time, what they can control or influence with their direct action.

The House of the Warrior may at first glance seem tied to the classical element of fire, but instead, think of the Tarot’s way of aligning Coins with elemental Earth. After all, a warrior is perhaps the most likely to be grounded in the physical realm as one who enacts changes in their world through their physical actions. In addition, much of the imagery in the Coins represents the agricultural cycle – planting, tending, and harvesting one’s crops. Similarly, Wampuses may view the world as a fertile landscape from which abundance may spring forth with the right tools and their own hard work. This suit also contains a warning not to get too caught up in what you can perceive with your bodily senses that you fail to remember that there are things beyond that which you can see.

With this interpretation, Wampus may lend itself to literal fighting and farming, but also to nature, activism, business, public safety, law, skilled crafts, athletics — fields where people understand the value of getting their hands dirty when necessary.

Horned Serpent — Swords

It is said that Horned Serpent is the House of Scholars and the Mind, and Swords are no different — this suit represents thoughts, ideals, and rationality. Its imagery represents a mind constantly at work, healthiest when it allows itself time for rest but prone to overactivity which may lead to restlessness and anxiety. So too may Horned Serpents find themselves capable of great feats of the mind, so long as they care for themselves by allowing themselves time for recovery and rejuvenation.

Swords also represent the element of Air. This may seem counterintuitive considering the Horned Serpent is a water-dwelling creature; however, may it be remembered that Air represents not only thought but (perhaps more importantly) communication, the air that passes out of our lungs to give us voice. What drew Isolt Sayre most to the Horned Serpent was its ability to communicate with her. So too we may find those sorted into Horned Serpent House to be interested in communication, the conveyance of one’s ideas and thoughts to others through verbal, written, or visual means.

As such, we will find Horned Serpents among top academics, including theorists, historians, and other scientists, not to mention those among the greatest of communicators, such as writers, orators, politicians, linguists, and actors.

Pukwudgie — Cups

The suit of emotions and intuition seems quite fitting for the House of the Heart. Emotions are our inner reactions to what may be happening in the outer world; they are a bridge between the two realms. This is also represented in the Cups’ relation to intuition — humanity’s innate ability to understand the world around us to some level without the need for conscious thought. The Cups’ imagery is at times the most fantastical of the suits, and the subjects are sometimes depicted doing something seemingly illogical, taking a leap of faith in hopes for better things to come. Pukwudgie is also the House of Healers, which makes great sense when one considers that all wellbeing is deeply connected; when one’s emotional health is poor, their physical health will be adversely affected, and vice versa.

The Cups also represent relationships and interconnectedness of every kind through their connection to the element of Water (after all, Water is necessary for every form of life on earth, and touches sea, earth, and sky in its ever-turning cycle, bridging the gap between the three worlds). The imagery of the Cups represents how our innermost feelings and intuition may affect our bonds with those around us — romance, friendships, family, and other partnerships. This also expands beyond inter-human relationships to our bond with the Earth itself.

It should be no surprise, then, to see Pukwudgies in every area focused on relationships, intuition, and mending broken things — healthcare, psychology, counseling, environmentalism, spirituality, hospitality, and diplomacy.

Thunderbird — Wands

The suit of Wands is the suit of passion and creativity, perfect for the House of Adventurers and the Soul. One may notice that much of its imagery revolves around merchants and fighters, which could be seen as the purview of Wampus; however, one must also remember that Thunderbirds above all else are those who take risks and set off to new places in search of excitement and adventure. Thunderbirds often feel a strong need for novelty, movement, progress, and expansion.

Wands also represent the element of Fire — interesting, perhaps, for a house whose mascot spends so much of its time in the air; on the other hand, what is lightning if not fire flashing in a storm? The Soul is complex and individualistic, and it desires to be known and to make itself known; there is a flame inside that demands to be let out so that it may shine. Thunderbirds often cannot help but try to make their mark on the world, whether for good or ill. The imagery of Wands is a reminder that fire can bring warmth and safety as well as chaos and pain. Strike a match and guide it to where it should go, and you bring light and life to even the most desperate; lose control, and you and those you love will get burned.

So, Thunderbirds may find themselves leaning towards fields in which they can best make a difference, make their mark, or find the necessary dynamism: the arts, teaching, activism, philosophy, entrepreneurship, innovation, and exploration.

Final Thoughts

As the reader may have noticed, there is overlap and nuance in what I have just described, as humans cannot be divided into neat boxes. Any vocation will find a strong foothold in any house. For example, a politician should be a scholar of philosophy and history, but they should also desire to heal people through the policies they write and support. A dancer certainly has great passion and creativity, but they are also grounded in their own body and the physical world around them.

There is something to be said too, about the interconnectedness of the Houses, the Tarot, and the wholeness of a human. Just as every House has overlap with all the others, every suit of the Tarot will bleed into the other suits, and every person has a body, mind, heart, and soul. We may tend to gravitate towards one part of ourselves, but we should not do so at the expense of the others.

Above all, remember the motto of Ilvermorny School: “As a family, united we stand.” Each member of the family is unique, and together we are stronger than we could ever be apart. Grow into who you are, and find the people who will support and uplift you and have strengths where you may not, and work together to make the world a better place.

———

~ Selwyn