#Mustard oil for Hair

[iq4u-health-wellness]

(via Nature's Secret Weapon: Unleash the Benefits of Mustard Oil for Hair)

[gulaboils]

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[dragonmickie]

fuckkkk i have that consultation appt thing for the getting on disability process today how do i prove im worth being allowed to survive

[banglakhobor]

সরষের তেলেই বন্ধ হবে চুলপড়া, দূর হবে খুশকি! জেনে নিন কী ভাবে লাগাবেন?

কীভাবে মেশাবেন?প্রথমে একটি প্যান নিয়ে তাতে সরষের তেল দিন। এবার এতে এক চামচ মৌরি, এক চামচ মেথি ও পান পাতা দিন। পান পাতা ছিঁড়ে দিয়ে দিন৷ এবার গ্যাস চালু করুন এবং ঢিমে আঁচে রান্না করুন। এটি রান্না করলে এই তিনটি জিনিসের পুষ্টিগুণ তেলে মিশে যাবে এবং চুলের সব ধরনের সমস্যা নিরাময়ে সাহায্য করবে। Source link

[erosmutt]

　⯌　𝘽𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙞𝙧𝙡　⨟　𝗝. 𝗞𝗲𝗹𝗹𝘆, 𝗦. 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝗿𝗼𝗲, 𝗦. 𝗕𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿

〣 ﹒▨﹕CONTENT WARNINGS﹒foursome, incestuous activities, free use undertones, objectification, somnophilia, double penetration, degrading, face slapping, pussy eating, bukakke, large age gap (James is 46, Scott is 21, Sam is 20, reader is 19).

┄﹒WORD COUNT﹒⤹ 4,152

BNUUY'S NOTES┆Finally, the long awaited fic! Part of the "Partnered Up!" series, which is a series of fics where all the characters are paired up and are with reader. The first installment is this one! Titled after a Red Hot Chili Peppers song. Originally, I was going to title it after a Rob Zombie song, but here we are! I'm so excited to share this with all of you. Eat well my loves!

≻ㅤ﹒ㅤlet's have a coffee together!ㅤ﹒ㅤノ

"You're welcome over anytime y'wanna be, sweetiepie."

You snap out of your daydream, lifting your gaze. In front of you stood your best friends' dad, James, a spatula in his hand. The kitchen was filled with the scent of seasoned beef, the familiar sizzle in the cast iron skillet on the stove a comforting sound. Your eyes rake over his broad shoulders, his waist, and down to the curve of his ass in his dark blue boxers. His jeans rest low on his hips, barely held up by his butt. Man, he really needed to invest in a belt.

Right as you open your mouth to respond, the sound of heavy boots hitting the creaky floorboards accompanies the sizzle of the patties James was flipping. "Hey dad, hey babes." One of James' two sons, Scott Kelly, greets the two of you as he sits a hefty 30-count case of beer on the kitchen table. His brother, Sam Kelly, was scrolling through his phone as he nodded to you. "What’s up?"

Scott's hand slams down onto the top of the large case of beer. "Found a new flavor. Peach Busch." He grins triumphantly, while Sam snickers, shoving his phone into his pocket and sitting down in a chair next to you. "A girly drink." He sticks his tongue out at his brother, making the blond sneer. "Go fuck yourself." He mutters, tearing the flimsy cardstock handle to reach a can.

James kills the heat on the stove then tosses the spatula down onto the counter. "Watch your fuckin' mouths, alright? Jesus," he shakes his head, gathering the condiments - barbecue sauce, ketchup, mustard, mayo, and an assortment of other burger toppings - then he sets them down onto the counter. "Now sit down and hush so we can eat."

Sam licks his lips as he gets up, grabbing a few paper plates off the top of the microwave. "Huh," he hands everyone a plate, then plops down in the creaky kitchen chair, making it scrape against the dirty linoleum floor. The four of you join hands and a quick prayer later, you all take in the assortment he cooked. "So," his father begins, cracking open a beer. "How's it been goin' babygirl?"

You look up at him, in the middle of squirting ketchup onto your hamburger. "Uh, what does that entail?" You ask with a lopsided grin. Scott shrugs. "The usual, you know? Like, I dunno, any boyfriends or somethin'?" His baby blues flick up to glance at you before focusing back on his dinner. "You coulda made the fries last, Jesus." Sam mutters from next to you before taking a massive bite of his burger, brows furrowed as he hums in satisfaction.

After chatting, hot beers, and dinner, the four of you were piled on the couch, watching whatever movie you caught on TV. James had his socked feet kicked up on the busted up coffee table, his arm around you, the stench of cheap cologne and potent motor oil clinging to his skin and clothes. His hand caresses your shoulder, fiddling with your sleeve, squeezing, tracing shapes. Your eyelids flutter closed, feeling heavy. James looks down at you. "Sleepy, babygirl?" He pulls you closer up into his side. "Snuggle up buttercup." He chuckles, ruffling your hair affectionately as he removes his arm from around your shoulders to put it around your waist, large hand resting on your stomach.

As the movie goes on, Sam and Scott end up on the floor, playing UNO, oblivious to their father and best friend up on the couch. James' hand slips up your shirt, rubbing over your soft tummy, over your womb. His dark gaze falls on you, eyes half-lidding as he rubs over your warm skin, your stomach distended with all the dinner you ate. "Sheesh..." He whispers to himself, teeth gently digging into his bottom lip. 

He'd be absolutely lying to himself if he tried to say he didn't have dreams about you full and round with his baby. Disgusting, he knows. He's pushing 50 years old, his knees creak when he gets up after sitting awhile, he has to be in bed before 10pm or he'll get pissy - he has zero business wanting to knock up his young sons' barely legal best friend. You kept him young, kept him on his toes, kept him wanting to keep up with the times. He'd do nearly anything to get just a glimpse of your teenage pussy. Oh, he could already imagine how tight, how warm, how wet, how -

"Dad!" Scott's grating voice snaps James back to reality. He looks down at his son. "What?" He hisses, rubbing his hand over his dark stubble. Sam turns around and looks up at his dad, then at you, then back at his dad. "Wanna play cards with us?" He asks, waving the cards as if tempting James. You stir out of your half-asleep state, then you smile, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. "Mmm, UNO?" You move away from James, standing up. You turn to look at him and hold your hands out, giggling as he lets out a heavy sigh, taking your hands and rocking back and forth before using you to get up off the couch with a groan that makes your stomach coil. "To the kitchen. I ain't gettin' down on that damn floor." James says, making his way to the kitchen. You follow as Sam and Scott gather up the cards.

"James?" Your voice calls, your hand resting on the door frame of James' bedroom. He groans, opening his eyes to look at the digital clock on his nightstand - 2:52AM. He turns his head to look at you and waves you into the bedroom. "Mm, what's wrong dollface?" He sits up, rubbing his hands over his face. You make your way over and sit down, a pout on your lips. "I can't sleep. Sam and Scotty are up playing games." You go quiet. James listens, and the resounding sound of his sons’ joint bitching at the TV reaches his ears. He rolls his eyes and licks his dry lips. "C'mon, you can lie with me." He pats the mattress. You climb into his warm bed, and once the two of you are settled in, the only sounds that grace you are your breathing, the muffled voices of the boys in the living room, and the rhythmic clicking of his rickety ceiling fan above the bed.

"Usually you're out like a light." James comments. "Well, 'least you used to be able to sleep through anything. Guess that changes when you ain't a kiddo no more." He says, a warm hand rubbing your arm to soothe you to sleep as he did when you were little on nights you would sleep over, when you would come crying to him about a nightmare. Even now, all these years later, it was incredibly endearing to him. The way you suckle around nothing and end up sleeping on your stomach. That wouldn't do if you were pregnant, though.

Throughout the night, James found himself unable to sleep. He had a raging boner, his cock aching, boxers nearly sopping with pre from all the leaking his tip had been doing. You had your cheek pressed against his shoulder, your arm draped over his doughy middle. He stares down at you in the dark, the moonlight streaming through the dusty blinds helping him see your parted lips as they catch the pallid glimmer.

James brings his hand up and rubs his thumb over your bottom lip and the corner of your mouth, collecting the drool that accumulated during your peaceful slumber. He brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks the drool off it, his eyes fluttering closed and nearly rolling back in perverted satisfaction. Removing his thumb with a gentle 'pop,' James rests his hand on your side, beginning to rub up and down, up to the side of your chest then down to your hip. "Christ," he whispers, digging his fingers into your flesh with a gentle squeeze. He finds his way into the side of your camisole, calloused hand rubbing over your breast and soft nipple, thumb caressing the bud.

He was at a really horrid angle, his joints beginning to ache already, but he deemed it worth the pain to be able to grope you in your sleep. James' other hand goes down to his crotch, slipping into his boxers and grabbing at his velvety shaft. After hearing noise he stopped for a second, then went on, rubbing his thumb over his damp tip, assuming the boys were packing it in for the night.

"Dad?" Sam's voice calls, and right as James snatches his hand out of his boxers, the bedroom light flickers on. He stares at his sons, his hand still around your soft, fatty breast. Sam's lips part as if to comment, and Scott just stares at the print of James' hand through your thin navy blue camisole. Oh, he was fucked.

“Um, are we interrupting something?” Scott finally comments, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. “We came to see whose bed she wanted to take, or if she wanted to stay in the living room. For fucks sake…” He sneers, and his brother watches, fiddling with his labret as he watches his dad slowly retract his hand from your top.

Sam's big blue eyes travel down to your now exposed stomach, blinking silently. "Hey hey, calm down," James coos, pushing himself up into a sitting position, unintentionally making you stir awake. His cock strains against his soft boxers, tip threatening to peek out from underneath the fabric scrunched around his thigh. "She can stay in whichever one'aya's bed she wants. No need to fuss." He says, and you lift your head to look at the twins, returning Sam's slow, cat-like blink. "Huh?"

With a disgusted scoff, Scott turns on his heel, his hand resting on the wood of the doorway as he readies himself to leave. "I can't believe this." He mutters, walking out and down the hallway. Sam took a moment before making a move to leave, though, but he soon followed his brother, disappearing down the hallway.

Left in a tense silence, neither you nor James commented. Just sat, oddly content, until he spoke. "I know you might think this is gross," he begins. "But... do you mind helpin' me out, babygirl?" He asks, and the two of you make eye contact, his gaze pleading while yours was surprised. "James," you murmur, your hand finding his hairy thigh. "I can try."

You make your way between his thighs, your hands resting on either side of his penis. “Can you show me what to do? I’ve never seen a guy’s thing in real life before.” You admit, examining his cock curiously. When you wrap your hand around it, a bit harshly, James hisses. “Gentle, dollface, gentle.”

“Here, slow. Slowly. Up and down. Yeah, just like that.” He watches, a smile coming across his face. “You got the hang of it already.” So, you began to stroke him, getting a feel for it, taking in the warmth, the scent, the texture, the way his shaft twitched in your grasp. You watch as his hands fist the sheets beneath him, his nostrils flaring as he nears what would be his first orgasm of the night. With a shudder, James comes undone, warm semen spurting onto your hand. “Oh.”

“You’re a natural,” James pants, his hand coming up to brush some wispy hairs away from your face. “Good job sweets. My boys are missin’ out.” He grins lazily, then falls back onto his pillow with a sigh.

You get up and adjust your top. “I should get to bed.” You make your way over to the bedroom door, and as soon as you open it, Scott and Sam stumble in sideways. Those little creeps, they had their ears up against the door, listening in. You yelp in surprise, and step back from the door. “What the hell is wrong with you two?!”

Scott’s eyes go from your face, to your cleavage, then over to his dad’s exposed cock, then back up at your face. “No fucking way his jizz is on your hand right now.” Sam chimes in, glaring at your hand with contempt. Overcome with embarrassment, you look down at your sock-clad feet, eyes tracing the checkerboard patterned fabric. “Are you listening to me?”

You and Scott were so preoccupied that neither of you noticed James come up behind you, hand coming to rest on your shoulder, his dick still out of the confines of his boxers. “It ain’t somethin’ to be ‘shamed of, you know.” He reassures, caressing your shoulder as he looks between his twin sons. “I never got to give y’all the talk, did I? Maybe now’s a good time, yeah?”

Scott was a bit more enthusiastic than you anticipated. Sam, on the other hand, seemed more hesitant. Though judging by the tent in his shorts, he was far from unaffected. With a deep breath, you settle down onto the bed, the boys on either side of you. James stands in front of you three, his cock noticeably hardening. “What the fuck,” Scott whispers to himself, meanwhile Sam was shifting around, trying to relieve the friction in his bottoms.

James begins pacing, starting his impromptu sex ed lesson. “It’s not a weird thing to talk about. Sex is how we all got here. ‘S a natural thing.” He reaches down and tucks himself back in, thankfully. “It’s not just a way to make life, but to pleasure yourself, too. Everyone likes it.” Their father turns and looks between his sons, then his eyes settle on Sam. “Especially you,” he points. “You think I don’t hear you?” He then looks at Scott. “You? Don’t even get me started on the shit I hear you watching.” The blond raises an eyebrow, parting his lips to bitch back when James goes on. “Both’a’ya think she and I are disgusting for doing shit like this when really, we not. You just ain’t mature enough to get it through your heads that you two not the only ones that think with their dick.”

Sam looked especially uncomfortable now, doing his damndest to not make eye contact with any of the others in the room. “Then give us a hands-on lesson if you give so much of a shit.” Scott quips, making everyone look at him. Realizing his mistake, he widens his eyes. “Wait! I’m fucking with you, I’m fucking with you, I’m fucking with you!” He rambles, making you snicker, until Sam finally chimed in. “Can we?” He asks. The other three of you turn to look at Sam, his cheeks reddening a deeper shade.

“Fine then,” James says, making his way to the bed. “Lay down sweetpea.” He urges you, gently pushing your shoulder, a silent instruction for  you to lay back. “Usin’ you for some edjumacation, just relax dollface.” He smiles, and you make a noise of confusion as he runs his hand over your stomach. “Watch boys,” he instructs, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. He tugs them down, your thighs jiggling as your hips plop back down onto the bed. 

You can’t help but feel embarrassed, you were being put on display for a less than ideal anatomy lesson, and the two boys you’d called your best friends since you could remember were staring at you like they could just devour you. The room fills with the nervous laughter of the two others as your body unfolds before them, eager to learn the intricacies that make you so unique. Your stomach was revealed first, followed by your thighs. As Scott giggles, you flush, feeling a sudden heat fill your face.

With your underwear the only thing keeping your intimate parts hidden, James gives a shit-eating grin to his audience, who tap their feet and shuffle in anticipation. James then hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and gives a swift tug down, revealing your fat, squishy mound and puffy pussy lips, soft and inviting. The sight of your hidden treasure causes the boys’ eyes to widen, taking in every detail of your body.

Your cheeks flame with mortification, an uncomfortable mix of embarrassment and arousal. The twins sat gazing at your exposed body, their eyes raking it in all its glory. You shudder, goosebumps forming on your skin as you sense their unabashed curiosity and lust. Pleased with his handiwork, James steps back, hands resting on his hips. “Go on, you two always were hands-on learners anyways.”

Scott, on your left, reaches out and touches your breast, his palm cupping the mound, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. You were overwhelmed with humiliation and pleasure, which was only amplified when you felt someone between your thighs. When you lifted your head to look down, you saw Sam on his knees before you, lips inches away from your pussy. “There you go, touch on ‘er.” James encourages the boys before taking a seat on the bed to your right, his large hand coming to rest on your stomach. “You’re such a trooper babygirl.”

You felt heat coursing through your veins, and you were unsure whether to be disgusted by the incestuous display or to just continue going with it. The feeling of being stripped of your dignity and autonomous power left you in a state of confusion, but your stomach coiled with a twisted thrill that came with the degradation. “Eat ‘er out, Sammy.” Scott tells his brother, sitting up straight. He swings one leg over your body and straddles your chest, then pulls his sweatpants down enough to remove his cock comfortably. His musky shaft bounces free before hitting you in the face. “Open your mouth- open it,”

You open your mouth willingly, the tip of Scott’s cock gliding past your lips and into the warm sanctuary of your mouth. Your tongue traces the underside of his shaft, sending tremors through his body. James watches in satisfaction as his sons take turns pleasuring you. Scott’s rough, unskilled hands gripping your head to guide his cock into your mouth contrast with Sam’s gentle, teasing tongue that flicks at your clit. As you begin to get into it, the twins sense it, their eagerness increasing tenfold. The blond bottoms out, balls against your chin as he groans, barely able to hold himself up, his thighs tensing. “Fucking- oh my- oh fuck,” he hisses, fully intent on keeping the two of you that way until James had to guide him back out. “Off.”

When Scott and Sam move out of the way, James settles between your legs and with a firm grip, finds your hips and snatches you to the very edge of the bed, his lips meeting yours for a slow, deep kiss. He groans softly against your lips, cock resting on your mound, the taste of peach beer like honey on his tongue.

James breaks the kiss and looks up at his sons. “Fuckin’ hell, Sam, play with ‘er tits.” The teen nods, hands finding your breasts, kneading the flesh gently. He drinks in the sight of the mounds jiggling beneath his touch, the curves and contours calling to him like a siren. “Scott, get under her.”

Scott doesn't waste a moment, his bottoms getting kicked across the room and hitting the floor, joining all the clutter and shit in his dad's room. He maneuvers underneath you, arms wrapping around your middle. “You good doll?” James asks, and you nod, hands on top of Sam's, guiding him to play with your nipples in a way that'll bring you the most pleasure. “Yeah, ‘m good,”

“Good.”

With the help of James’ hand, Scott's cock pushes into you, pulling an embarrassingly loud moan from your lips. “Oh, fuck!” You arch your back and Scott pulls you back down. “Stay,” he whispers hotly against your ear. “Stay right there.” In the heat of the moment, you didn't even notice that James was beginning to push into you as well until your poor cunt was being stretched to the brim. “James! James- ‘s so- ohhh, can't fit it,” you slur, making the man chuckle. “Yeah you can. Cunts are made for this, it's just a lil’ difficult ‘cause you're so young, babygirl.” After a bit of struggle, James penetrates you, your warm walls enveloping him. A guttural moan escapes him as he starts to grind against you, the friction from his son's cock against his paired with your wet heat almost too much for him to handle. “Atta girl, grippin’ me tight.” He smirks, drinking in the moans and cries that came from your lips.

Sam leans down and captures your lips in a soft kiss, much different from the other two on a mission to ravage your poor body. One of his hands tangles in your hair while the other is shoved down his pants, palming his shaft over his boxers. He was waiting, itching to have a go at you.

Your eyes flutter open, hazy gaze meeting James', whose eyes were sparkling with a devious triumph. “You gonna let us cum inside ya sweetiepie?” He asks, moving his hips in a rhythm that compliments Scott's. Since you were stretched so far and the friction was so great, the two of them had to find something that worked.

“Fuck, ‘m close,” Scott moans, his fingers digging into the flesh of your sides, tugging at you. The desperation in his voice is almost laughable. Sam breaks the kiss with a snicker. “Think it’s been like two minutes, dude. Pull out, let me.” Scott nods and does so, his cock glistening with your juices as he crawls out from underneath you.

With everyone out of the way, the three of them looming over you like a hungry pack of wolves, you can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. The others join in, the sound of their laughter mixing with the shuffling around. “I can’t even sit right,” you giggle, running your hands through your damp hair.

“I know. It’ll be fine babycakes. Get up.” James grins, turning you over so you were now on your tummy. “Gonna run a train through ya baby. Ready?” He lifts your hips, hands coming to rest on your ass. “Gonna take all of us, yeah?” His sweet talking distracted you from the way the teens were maneuvering your body, putting you in a position they wanted you.

James spits down onto his cock, lubing it up before he pushes the tip of it against your tight cunt. He grunts, feeling the resistance, but he’s determined. With a swift thrust, he breaches you, his cock sinking deeper with each rock of his hips, making your pussy stretch open. The boys, not to be outdone, get to work on their part. Sam guides his cock into your inviting mouth, your tongue swirling around his cockhead while your saliva bathes him. Scott groans, smacking your cheek with his own member, smearing precum onto your skin. “Fuck yeah,” he grins. “Take it like that baby, take Sam’s dick in your mouth.”

“Ghhk- hhg, kkh-” you gag on Sam’s cock, eyes shut as you struggle to breathe. Your body is a mess of pleasure, tits bouncing with every thrust, your pussy gripping James’ cock and your mouth moving up and down Sam’s. Your moans are muffled, but it only makes it all the more arousing. Sam pulls out and his dick is replaced with his brother’s, Scott’s tip hitting the back of your throat. The springs in the old, cheap mattress squeak and creak underneath the combined weight of the four of you.

Scott’s fingers tangle in your hair and grip your skull, being fed off the sounds of you choking and struggling. “Fucking take it, don’t fucking stop,” he growls, teeth gritting. “I wan’ cum on ‘er face,” Sam chimes in, getting off the bed, hand beginning to fist his cock as he waits for the other two. Following suit, James pulls out and so does Scott, the pair pulling you down onto the floor.

You cough, attempting to catch your breath before they get their hands on you again. You steady yourself with your hands on the dingy carpet, getting ready for the facial. “Fuck babygirl, close your eyes and stick that tongue out.” James commands, watching as you oblige. “Oh shit, keep it right there,” Scott pants, and you let out a surprised squeal as your face is covered in sticky sperm. You give an open-mouthed giggle and slowly open your eyes, keeping your tongue out.

It frosted your nose and cheeks and tongue, and your lashes were matted as you looked up at the three of them, meeting their satisfied expressions. Hopefully there would be a second class for James’ anatomy course.

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @addictedtohobi , @102hannah , @emmaloo21 , @vixxensvoid , @ilovekmchenzie ﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @laylaplease , @brooklynb8by , @geekforhorror , @gallerygourmet , @anakinsbbgirl ﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @literally-izzy , @anakinstwinklebunny , @jadegmfu , @bimbo-baggins17 , @thesassypadawan ﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @t03soup , @trippyhippywitch , @valloos , @demieyesore , @piastricentric ﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @s1aywalker , @s1ck-skv1l , @catnipaddictt , @gabsskkk , @slutforfinnickodair﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @realscott , @jediavengers , @enchant5d , @zapernz , @starlmbed﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @offthethirlwall , @tfmerc , @dazednstars141 , @anisluvrgirl , @stepdadjameskelly﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @cocobear18 , @poutypisces , @mugwump327 , @espinathena-17 , @fallout-girl219﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @necromancerrrs , @decaffeinatedunicorn , @speaknow-sw , @lunarnightt﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 .  @jyinnc , @haydenslittlegirl ﹒📧

[ironstrange1991]

Ambien Slide

Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: A Cigarettes After Sex song inspires a sensual moment in the Sanctum's kitchen

Word Count: 1,6k

Warnings: Oral sex with female receiving

A/N: I was making dinner while listening to CAS when I had this idea and I needed to write it as quickly as possible before the motivation went away. It is completely self-indulgent and has not been proof read so ignore any mistakes and have a nice reading ;)

You were in the kitchen distracted while preparing dinner. You almost never cooked, but when you decided to prepare something, you always made it a special moment.

You decided that night would be special because it was Friday and the week that almost drove you crazy was finally ending. When leaving work, you went to the grocery store to buy the ingredients to make a steak with mustard sauce and garlic and oil paste. Not satisfied with the work you would have to do, you decided to prepare dessert too instead of buying something ready-made.

When you arrived home with your bags in hand, you were greeted by silence and the echo of your footsteps on the floor that indicated you were alone. Before you were afraid of staying in Sanctum alone, now you felt really good there.

After taking your well-deserved shower and dedicating some of your time to taking care of your hair and skin, you put on new satin pajamas that you had bought a few weeks ago and hadn't worn yet. It wasn't provocative at all, but it was pretty and black, your favorite color. It was past 7pm when you turned on your speaker and put the new Cigarettes after sex album on and dedicated yourself to preparing dinner. You had already lost count of how many times you had listened to that entire album in the last few weeks. In fact, you hadn't heard anything else since the album was released and it had been over a month.

You barely noticed time pass as you wandered around the kitchen doing your chores to the sound of those soft tunes. Giving in to self-indulgence you opened a bottle of red and poured a glass which you drank in a few sips and refilled. You liked to cook sometimes, without having to commit to doing it every day, it was like therapy for you. You could completely disconnect from the outside world and all the turmoil in your head when you did it, suddenly it was just you and the subtle art of mixing different ingredients to create something wonderful.

Because you were completely absorbed in your domestic world, you didn't hear Stephen arriving, nor did you hear him calling out to you. You were finishing the berry pie, cutting some strawberries to decorate it, when he entered the kitchen and surprised you by wrapping his strong arms around your waist while hugging you from behind.

"I was wondering what you were up to here." He said, placing a small kiss on your cheek and you felt that feeling of butterflies in your stomach that you always felt when you were around him. You had already given up wondering how long this feeling would last. You had been together for over two years and there wasn't a day that went by that you didn't feel that way around Stephen. You were sure that what you had was one of those that last.

You tried to act normally, just humming a response as you placed the strawberries on top of the pie, but Stephen took advantage of the fact that your hair was tied up in a high bun and began placing little kisses on the back of your neck that quickly made your skin prickle and your whole body tremble in response to which he giggle.

"This looks delicious." He praised.

"You haven't seen anything yet. I got inspired tonight, prepared a full dinner."

He nodded, burying his nose in your neck and breathing in your scent. "What is the occasion to deserve such a special dinner?"

You giggled feeling his goatee tickling you "It's Friday and this week has been horrible. I'm just glad it's over."

He hummed, "And is Cigarettes after sex part of the moment? You said once that every time you listen to them you think of me, so I wonder if I should expect something more from the night besides a nice dinner."

You bit your lower lip realizing that the album in question had ended and started again and was starting the last song already – again.

"Maybe" You replied "If you deserve it."

He let out a small hum.

"I really like this one." He said referring to the music that was playing. “They are all similar, but this one has something special. What's its name?"

"Ambien Slide." You said softly feeling his hands slide to the sides of your waist as he slowly moved from one side to the other making you both sway to the beat of the music in an extremely sensual way and he was right, there wasn't a single time that you listened to Cigarettes after sex without thinking about Stephen. It was your band and you didn't know if he was doing it on purpose or not, but you doubted you could hear that song again without remembering this moment.

"It's not exactly a happy song." You tried to reason and he hummed continuing the movement uninterrupted.

"But they make even sadness sexy, don't they?" He teased you by squeezing his arm around your waist and literally trapping you against his body and you gasped feeling his hard on against your ass.

"You do it. I don't know how other people feel about them, but for me it's about you. Every song is about you. Everything is about you, Stephen." You confessed, turning your face to meet his lips.

Oh those lips, warm and soft, moving against yours with such passion, parting slightly as an invitation to let your tongue in. You let out a gentle moan in response and your hand wrapped around his in your waist, intertwining your fingers with his own while the other slid back holding his neck to keep him as close as possible as your breaths became heavier and heavier until he needed to break the kiss to breathe.

The music was still playing, but it was just a ringing in your ear now, you could feel your heart buzzing above it and your legs went weak and you let out something between a gasp and a chuckle.

"What is it, Sweetheart? Did I make you a little dizzy?" He asked with a smirk on his face. He knew very well the effect he had on you, but he liked to tease you anyway. "Or was it the wine I tasted on your lips?"

At that point you had already completely forgotten what you were doing and the song had finally ended giving way to the first song on the album which was starting over for the third time. You turned to face him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. "Do you want to taste some more?"

He chuckled and in one movement you were in his lap. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he walked to the table and placed you sat on top of it.

"There's something else I want to taste now." He said pulling down your pajama shorts down your legs, throwing it on the floor and diving between your legs.

You closed your eyes, feeling his tongue on your core and your entire body shook. You would never get used to that feeling, to the way Stephen could reduce you to a moaning mess with just his tongue. He opened your folds with his fingers and sucked on your clit and then went back to using the tip of his tongue flicking it against your entrance to tease you and going up to your clit again taking turns licking and sucking on the hardening bud.

You could hear music playing, but you couldn't pay enough attention to identify the song and it didn't matter, nothing else mattered other than the feeling of having Stephen between your legs.

"Oh shit, Stephen. So good. You're making me feel so good. Gonna make me cum if you keep this up."

But he just moaned and continued with his pace, holding your thighs with both hands to keep them apart and your legs began to tremble involuntarily as you felt the heat rising from your center to your stomach and the knot threatening to break.

"Oh Stephen..." You moaned louder feeling your release washing over you. "F-fuck, oh fuck... I fucking love you... so much, so much..."

When he emerged from between your legs his face was red and wet, but he had never looked so handsome and you grabbed him by his robes and pulled him back to your lips. They tasted like you.

You were feeling dizzy, your heart buzzing in your ears, but yet you never felt better.

"Say it again." He asked on your lips. "I love hearing you saying it."

"I fucking love you, Doctor Strange." You said cupping his face in your hands and he smiles proudly.

"I love you too, sweetheart." He said, pulling away and picking up your pajama shorts from the floor and helping you put them on.

"Dinner?" You asked trying to return to the earthly plane.

He nodded "Sure. But I'll take a shower first.” He said with a smirk and you could see the bulge in this robes pants. You took pride in it.

“Don’t take too long or your food will get cold." You said still trying to regulate your breathing.

He gave you a peck on the cheek “Okay, but I’ll have my dessert upstairs tonight, sweetheart."

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

BACK TO DOCTOR STRANGE MASTERLIST

BACK TO MAIN MASTERLIST

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[vxiphoid]

RAINY REVERIE

❨ summary ❩ obey me › things they would do to cheer you up. hearts and minds have a tendency to break when there are too many thoughts in your head at once, how would they help?

tags ✧ nb!reader, established relationship, reader is going through it😞, slightly suggestive in lucifer’s part?, IM SORRY IF YOU HAVE A CAT ALLERGY (mammon), idol slander, bathing together, itty bitty angst in belphie’s.

amanuensis’ message ⊹ i tried to make the reader a bit different for each brother because people deal with being upset differently… but hello?? theres like 130 of you now, tysm for all of the support, i love you all sm sm :(<33

⌜ 2.5+ ⌟

obey me masterlist

LUCIFER

♫ wishful thinking - benee

╰ he understands more than anyone how stressful school or work can be. doesn’t help that rad piles more shit on as you advance. he’s offered to give you a message, pressing small kisses in his wake before smearing oil onto your skin.

“you did so well today.” lucifer praises gently against your skin, thumbing the junction between your shoulder blades. you sigh contentedly as he massages into your muscles with ease, his fingers brushing your skin in gentle strokes to help ease out the knots and tension that have accumulated over the day. you inhale sharply at the contact, and a small smile quirks up the corners of your mouth when you hear him hum happily at your reaction. “your hands feel good, not that i don’t like the feeling of your gloves, your hands just feel better. i like your hands on me.” you murmur, leaning further back into his touch, basking in his affectionate caress. there was a stutter in lucifer’s movements as he stiffened momentarily before relaxing once more, but it didn’t deter his hand from its progress. “well, i know that… i figured i take my gloves off a lot in your company since you like the feeling of them so much.” he murmurs, sounding slightly embarrassed by his own statement as he continues to massage at your shoulders. he makes sure his thumbs are positioned correctly on either side of your spine, his touch feather light. “i thought this was pure?” you ask teasingly, peering over your shoulder. lucifer gives you an unamused look, pushing harder into the small of your back which elicits another soft sigh from you. “this is pure. you’re tainting it.”

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MAMMON

♫ (your cat) don’t stand a chance - mustard service

╰ last thing he wants is you going to bed angry or upset in any way. even if it isn’t his fault he still feels like he needs to spoil you to make it better? so, he gets you something. in a box, a big box. yk nothing bad, just something he prolly shouldn’t have bought…

“heeey, pretty… so i know you’re having a really bad day ‘n shit but how would you feel if i brought you a cat?” mammon asked, stiffly pushing open his bedroom door with his shoulder, a light looking box in his arms. you eye him, hard. “what’s in the box, mammon.” the mewls of protest from within spoke for itself. when you bursted into his room clearly pissed off, mammon was already on his way out, kissing you and promising he’d be right back he just needed to grab some stuff. by stuff you didn’t think he’d be at the pet store buying a kitten, especially this breed. maine cats are expensive, he even went out of his way to buy toys and the necessities. you thought you would have been mad about it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be as the little baby ran around trying to catch a feather you swung around. the kitten finds rest in mammon’s mess of hair, likes to be carried around in hoodie pockets, and makes biscuits with it’s beans on your back. you couldn’t be mad at all, both the small fur ball and your boyfriend cleared all the stress you had. mammon lied down beside you in the floor, watching you jerk around the stick for the kitten to tail, he rests his head your shoulder. “you feelin’ better?” you nod with a natural smile and he kisses your shoulder. “good.” you say nothing, instead you pull him close and cuddle together on the floor, the kitten pawing mammon’s head before curling up for a nap. you smile, holding out your pinky. “don’t tell satan?” mammon takes your finger, pressing your thumb with his. “‘course not.”

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LEVIATHAN

♫ honey - red hearse

╰ levi was already dressed for a midnight walk when you came in, he figured you needed one too just to clear your mind. helps you put on your shoes and jacket while you rant about how horrible your day was, kisses your cheek while you two leave the house.

your boyfriend treats this like any other day, not in an ignoring way, no. he figures he’d rather listen to your rant then try to see the other person’s (asshole) side. in plus, if you get it all out of your system, you won’t be so pent up. he buys you your regular drink and holds it for you while you express your anger with your hands, bringing the straw to your mouth when you need a pause. “—and it wasn’t even my shift!” you huff, sipping your drink when levi brings it to you. “thank you, i love you. anyways, this bitch—“ you could go on and on for hours and he wouldn’t get tired of hearing your voice. eventually he’d tug you into one of those 24 hour cafes and request an outdoor seating area, preferably where there isn’t people. when your rant seemingly comes to a close, your forehead meets with levi’s shoulder with a heavy sigh. he kisses your crown, “d’you want anything off the menu? they still serve breakfast if you want any.” he smiles when you nod. “thank you for listening, i know that was a lot. ‘just been stressed.” his hand slips into yours, kissing the back of it. “i’m here for you whenever.” and he means it. you know that levi would give you literally anything in the world, he’d do anything for you and the little things only add to how precious he is.

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SATAN

♫ structure - odd sweetheart

╰ satan is a ticking time bomb when he’s mad, he may look okay but one minor inconvenience will send him over the edge. the plus side is that he knows most of the methods that could calm anyone down. those methods are watching really bad shows and their cringy acting.

the click of the spacebar signaled that you paused the show for the ninth time tonight, the silence loud between you and satan as you both stared at the blinding screen. his expression mirrored yours; slightly gaped mouth, squinted eyes, and meeting a glance before they returned to the frozen show. “she didn’t just kiss her husband to be’s brother after having a one night stand with their father…” he said quietly in disbelief. “on her wedding day.” you mumbled, forking around your takeout noodles in its cup. satan opened his mouth and you fed him some, treating yourself quickly afterwards. “y’all would watch anything at this point, kill your producer!” you and satan have been bingeing this horrible romance show for so long you completely forgot what time you even started watching it. its so ridiculous, not worse than idol, but still horrible. satan, on the other hand, was just glad you were enjoying yourself after a soiled day. you catch his eye and grin slightly, “what?” he shrugs with his mouth, turning back to the show. “nothing.” “mm, you want something, what is it?” you prodded again, leaning forward and giving him an inquisitive stare. you were sure you weren’t getting an answer by the way he was twirling his fork, so you leaned into him, brushing his hair away to press a kiss to his jaw, that caught his attention. “thank you, satan. for cheering me up.” you whispered to him sweetly. his lips curled up at the edges. “anything for you, love.” your eyes dart back to the screen after what you thought you saw actually happened. “she’s making out with their dad now?! go back, go back!!”

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ASMODEUS

♫ bad behavior - austin mills & remi wolf

╰ he knew that as soon as you walked into his room silent something was wrong. he just got out of the shower and you hugged him. you hugged him tighter than you usually do, and he noticed. he’s never seen you so deflated, tears filling your lash line. fortunately, asmo knows the perfect way to calm you down.

“okay baby, do you want hot pink or pink?” your eyes flick between the two headbands from your spot on the bathroom counter. you know they’re basically the same color, but it doesn't stop you from trying to guess which one is cuter. “hot pink.” you say finally, nodding in the direction of the headband in asmo’s right hand. “correct answer, you weren’t allowed to choose anything else.” asmo slips on your fuzzy headband and you snort as he carefully adjusted it on your head. “why’d you ask then?” you tease. asmo shrugs, leaning in closer to press a quick kiss under your eye. “so we can match!” after your emotional feeling day, your boyfriend suggested you join him in his skincare to take your mind off of everything for a bit. you agreed immediately, happy at the opportunity. you’ve been so stressed lately, working part time at a small coffee shop near campus while attending classes full time, and not having time to spend quality time with your boyfriend made you feel like you had let him down. you were grateful he was offering to help you out though. asmo’s finger hooked under your chin, using a silicone spatula to smear on a cool peel off mask onto your other cheek. you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and he grins, pecking your lips before getting back to work on your mask. little whisps of champagne hair escaped from his headband, his tongue sticking from the side of his mouth while the mask between his brows crinkled in concentration. asmo always did this whenever he focused particularly hard, so you didn’t interrupt him even if he did start to ramble about something or another. you couldn’t get enough of watching him make himself so at peace with his surroundings. your lips meet his palm gently, and he quickly got the paragraph hidden behind such a small act. “you’re welcome, baby.”

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BEELZEBUB

♫ grey luh - berhana

╰ beel knows that even himself needs a bit of time alone before he’s ready for any interaction so he let’s you have you’re time. while he waits, beel prepares a bath of pure relaxation. scented candles, various different bath bombs, and even one of those bath tables.

you groan exasperatedly as beel lifts you from the warm embrace of your duvets, “i know, i know, i’m sorry. you can go back to bed in a minute…” he assures you, his voice soft and droopy. you’re about to protest but he shushes you by kissing you softly on the lips. “i know you need this.” with that you stop your whining and hum quietly, accepting a loving defeat. you were already starting to nod off against beel’s chest til your nose caught whiff of vanilla and the cold tiles of the bathroom under your feet as he set you down. the bath was filled with crystal clear water, a blue tint shimmering over the liquid due to the relaxing lighting. there were candles and various oils and body washes littering the shelves of the bathtub with a scent that was both sweet and refreshing at the same time. it was almost overwhelming in its complexity but it was also perfect because beel always made sure everything had an effect that would make you happy, calm, relax. “your week has been stressful so i wanted to make you something even it it isn’t a lot.” you smile brightly up at him, eyes shining with love for him despite still having bags underneath them, which he brushes away with another tender kiss. you already began to strip, your bones were aching for warm bubbling water on your skin. “just relax, okay? i’ll take care of you and we can go back to bed after dinner.” you pause just as you dip your leg into the water, “you’re not joining me?” beel blinks at you owlishly, mouth opening and closing a few times as if trying to find words, “you wanted me to join?” you blink back at him, confused until he finally says something intelligible again, “yes? why wouldn’t i want you to join me?” he smiles at you, a small and gentle curve of his lips that you couldn’t help smiling back at him. he wastes no time settling down behind you, your body immediately melting into his, the heat radiating out of him and warming you up like never before. “better?” he questions, hand rubbing your back soothingly, his other arm wrapped snugly around your waist. your head rested on his shoulder, arms loosely wrapping around his own torso. “absolutely. thank you.”

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BELPHEGOR

♫ valentina - dreamer isioma

╰ usually naps off his anger or sadness, basically letting it build up silently, naps do help him but he knows that naps won’t erase anybody’s pain in, like, two hours. belphie makes you a little care package; essential oils, sugar scrub, candles, sweets, blanket, plushies, melatonin gummies for the sleepless nights, headphones, etc… it was a rare sight seeing belphie out of bed and productive, instead your roles being swapped.

the attic’s stairs creaked as belphie ascended to where you were curled up on his bed. he approaches slowly, stretching his neck out a bit to check if you were sleeping. fortunately, you were not. “hey, babe? i got you something…” belphie muttered. you turned your head slightly, the glow from your d.d.d illuminating your face. belphie sat down next to you, laying out what was clearly a care package on a bedside table. the colors were subtle, a nice slightly desaturated blue with white accents for bows on the bag, few constellations littered the design. “you didn’t need to waste your money on me, belph.” you sigh, holding his face in your hand, belphie leans into your touch. “it wasn’t a waste. you’ve worked so hard.” he smiles as he kisses your palm. “plus, nothing’s a waste if its for you.” there was some static in the room, it made the atmosphere even more intimate. belphie rests his head against yours, taking a deep breath in. you smelled nice, and belphie felt immensely calm. “do you want anything else, hun? i could cook dinner…” belphie trails off, rubbing circles onto your arm. he feels you shake your head, “you’re more than enough. i’ll open the gift in a second, promise, just need you.” belphie kisses the top of your head, resting his cheek on top of it. there was static again, the feeling only growing more prominent as he pressed a kiss to your temple, “i love you.” you turn slightly to face belphie, placing your lips against his, they were soft, sweet, and tasted like honey and vanilla. you felt the tension plaguing your body ebb away, you relaxed into your lover. belphie pulls back, pressing another chaste kiss on your forehead, “i love you the most.”

[midnightorchids]

in another life im putting mustard oil in jason’s hair and calling him meri dunya while we watch old bollywood movies and eat sweet seasonal fruits <3

[megalony]

Safe and Sound

This is a new Thomas Shelby (Peaky Blinders) imagine that will have a follow up part. I hope you all like it, this was requested by the lovely @musicistheway I hope you like it hun.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @anonyymoouussssss​

Masterlist

Summary: Grace tries her luck with the famous Tommy Shelby but she doesn’t have a chance when he’s married to his teenage sweetheart. So she plots her revenge on his little family.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Tommy took a second to tangle his fingers in his hair before he tried to stand, fighting the tiredness overwhelming him. It had to be early, there was scarcely any daylight breaking through the gap in the curtains. The room was illuminated in waves of grey and just a few mustard yellow streaks that told Tommy it was early, probably before six in the morning.

His eyes did another tired sweep of the room, confirming that (Y/n) wasn't in bed with him and that was probably the reason he was awake now.

His legs barely shuffled across the carpet and finally started to move properly when he plodded down the stairs, trying to keep his steps light enough that he didn't make much noise. He didn't want to wake the three-year-old asleep in the other room upstairs.

The lamp beside the sofa was switched on bathing the living room in dim lighting but there was a river of light coming from the kitchen.

Tommy followed the light like a beacon, squinting the further he got until he walked into the kitchen. He leaned his weight into the doorframe, crossing one leg over the other and his arms over his chest while a soft smile broke out on his face.

There she was, the one thing in the whole world that could give Tommy a full night's sleep and battle the memories that plagued him to keep him safe and sound asleep. (Y/n) was hovering near the oven, a frying pan of bacon and eggs sizzling away on the stove but what made Tommy's smile brighten was how (Y/n) was stretched up on tiptoes, an arm reaching out like she was aiming for the sun in the top cupboard.

All his other senses seemed to come flooding back to him and his ears finally switched on to the sounds in the kitchen. He could hear the oil in the pan spitting out around the bacon and he could hear the music from the radio playing very quietly from the windowsil near the back door. And he could finally smell the breakfast cooking in front of him that made his stomach growl and tighten and show him how hungry he really was.

"Need some help?" His voice was laced with sleep but still as deep and low as ever.

"I'm sure you do this on purpose,"

Dropping back down to her feet, (Y/n) turned to look at her husband who simply grinned. Tommy himself wasn't freakishly tall but he was taller than her and therefore (Y/n) knew he liked to hide things from her. He would pupt things on the top shelf- just like he had done now with the teapot- so (Y/n) couldn't reach and had to clamber onto the worktop or give in and ask for his help.

She felt his bare chest press up against her back and his fingers curled around her hip, giving her an assuring squeeze before he reached up to get the pot down for her. 

"Thank you," (Y/n) mumbled quietly, closing her eyes when she felt Tommy's lips moving to press against the side of her neck, hovering over her pulse like a vampire waiting to strike and tear her apart.

"Why are you up so early?"

It wasn't like (Y/n) to be up before Tommy, he was always up and dressed and out the door before her, save for the few occasions when work permitted him to stay in bed until eight or nine in the morning. He didn't like waking up without (Y/n) in bed next to him, it wasn't natural.

"We couldn't sleep so I thought I'd make a start on breakfast." (Y/n) could barely speak when his lips kissed along her neck until his teeth were grazing over her jaw and his hands snaked around her front until his palms were pressed against her stomach over her nightgown.

His name passed through her lips in a groaned whisper when he continued to nip at her jaw and his body became glued to hers, pressing every ridge of him into her. He made it very hard for her to shuffle over to the oven to move the pan before their breakfast was burned.

"Aren't you hungry?"

"Hm. Very."

A gasp broke free of (Y/n)'s lips when he spun her around and backed her up into the worktop. His fingers roamed over her thighs and quickly dipped beneath her gown and the pads of his fingers skimmed up her legs until he was gripping her bum. Between kisses to her jugular, he whispered 'up' against her skin before effortlessly lifting her up onto the counter so he could move between her legs. He got as close as he possibly could until her bump was glued to his abdomen and his teeth bit down on her neck, taking a devouring bite.

Her legs hooked around his waist and her heels dug into his lower back over the top of his boxers which coincidently, was all he was wearing. She could feel his hands roaming back around until he was holding her hips and his index fingers were prodding the waistband of her underwear.

Whatever she was about to say was swallowed by his lips devouring hers but it was his turn to groan when (Y/n) looped her arms around his neck and tugged at the short strands of hair at the back of his head.

"Tommy," (Y/n) breathed through his name, barely able to see straight when she opened her eyes and her mind was clouding over until she was barely coherent to her thoughts anymore. She moved her hands from his neck round to his cheeks and cupped his face in her hands, bringing him level so she could taste his lips.

She could feel him smiling into the kiss that left her lightheaded and when she looked into his deep blue eyes, she could have gotten lost forever. But (Y/n) knew Tommy's ever alert mind had clicked onto the sound she could hear.

"Daisy's awake," He muttered quietly before stealing another kiss, and then another until (Y/n) felt like she was going to black out.

Tommy looped his arms around (Y/n)'s back beneath her gown and splayed his fingers out across her back, keeping her as close as he could while he turned his head towards the doorway when the small patter of footsteps got closer. And he smiled to himself when (Y/n) leaned forward to tuck her face into the crook of his neck, looping her arms back around his neck, loosely this time.

"Morning daisychain."

He watched in amusement as his little girl trotted over to him and latched herself onto his legs. He wasn't sure how long they all stayed there, tangled around each other like vines. It could have been a few seconds, it could have been minutes or even an hour but Tommy didn't care, he relished in the comfort both his girls gave him.

That was, until his name came booming from the other side of the front door and John's voice filled the kitchen.

Unlike in John's house, Tommy actually locked and double bolted the front door. He wasn't taking the risk of an enemy or a drunkard from the Garrison trying their luck and walking right into his house. Not with both girls here. Tommy had more enemies than John and in John's house, it was always family who came in without knocking, not strangers.

Scooping Daisy up into his arms, Tommy crossed the living room and unlocked the door, allowing an unamused expression to paint his previously happy face when he looked at his younger brother.

"What do you want at this hour John?"

The discomfort on john's face was crystal clear by the way his lips curled down and his eyes raked up and down Tommy's figure. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen his brother in nothing but his boxers. He was always promptly dressed and ready for the day when they saw each other. Even when Tommy had been shot a year ago, he had only stripped his shirt, not his trousers.

John managed a smile at the little girl who deadlocked her arms around Tommy's neck and burrowed into him, fighting off the urge and need to go back to sleep.

"There's a problem, at the shop. Some of the bets have been ransacked..."

"You'd best come in then."

Tommy turned round and walked back through to the kitchen as John took the signal to follow and shut the door behind him.

"Morning John." (Y/n) smiled over at the younger man who had become a brother to her since she was a teenager. She had known the Shelby's for so long and been married to Tommy for long enough for them to be her own family now. They took her in from the moment Tommy asked her out on a date, it was an instant family that she couldn't love more if she tried.

"Morning (Y/n), I need to steal Tommy, problem at the shop."

"Not before breakfast you don't, you all need to eat." (Y/n) crossed her arms over her chest but she smiled despite the news that Tommy was going to be leaving earlier than planned today and probably for a lot longer.

"You heard the lady, sit down." Pointing to the table, Tommy beckoned for John to take a seat. Tommy for one would never defy (Y/n), she made the rules and he lived by them and he certainly wasn't leaving on an empty stomach. He needed to get dressed anyway soa  few extra minutes with his girls having breakfast wouldn't make that much difference.

"Tommy..." (Y/n) pressed her lips together and looked up at her husband through her lashes when he turned to face her.

She dug her hands into the edge of the counter and slowly started to swing her legs back and forth until he edged closer until he was stood by her side, resting against her leg. She could feel the shiver that burst down his neck when she hovered her lips over the shell of his ear and breathed against his neck.

"I'm stuck,"

He had lifted her up onto the counter but she couldn't serve up breakfast if he didn't help her down again. She wasn't jumping off the counter, not with the extra weight of the baby weighing her down and putting her off balance.

Silently, Tommy gently prized Daisy from clinging to his neck and handed her over to John. The little girl whined quietly when Tommy let her go but she quickly nuzzled into John's blazer, frowning nonetheless.

"I got you, love." Tommy hooked his hands under (Y/n)'s legs, squeezing her bum playfully before he pulled her close and slowly lowered her back down. It was going to be hard to leave her this morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A tired sigh tumbled past Tommy's lips as he leaned his elbows on the murky bar and arched his back out, clicking his spine into place.

He didn't know what time it was and he didn't really want to know either. The sun was far away now and the moon was high up with the stars, that told Tommy all he needed to know. It was late and he needed to go home.

The voices in the Garrison started to blur together until all the laughs, the burling brawls and the clinking of glasses meshed into nothing but static in Tommy's ears. Both his brothers were sat in the small adjoining room next to the bar and though the closed door kept their voices at bay, Tommy could hear them both getting rowdy with each other. Aunt Polly had gone home a little while ago and now that the talk of business was over, it was time for Tommy to retreat home too.

After one more drink.

He tapped his empty glass down on the bar and dragged a hand through his tousled hair before someone appeared in front of him.

"What'll it be?"

"Shot of whiskey, for the road."

"Leaving already Tommy?" Grace swiped a rag across the bar in front of him before she turned to find the specific bottle that Tommy had been drinking from tonight.

Saying nothing, Tommy just nodded his head and waited patiently for his glass to be refilled. It was time for him to go home, (Y/n) and Daisy would be waiting for him and he hadn't seen them since the early hours of the morning when trouble arose. It had taken all day to sort the mess out at the bet shop but now it was done and the evening's meeting was over, Tommy could go home to his girls.

"You look stressed Tommy, anything I can do?"

He didn't like the way she leaned over the bar towards him or the smile on her lips. Something about Grace seemed to set Tommy on edge whenever he was around her. It was probably because she was always trying to get close, begging for conversation and closeness that he didn't want.

Deep down, Tommy knew what Grace was after but it was something he wasn't prepared to give.

To further his silent point, he began to slowly spin the wedding ring clad on his left hand. The gold band made slow circles around his finger in a soothing motion that was comfortable and familiar to Tommy with how many years he had worn it. He let his eyes flick from Grace, to the ring and back again before he downed the shot she poured him and pointed for another.

The gold band was a second skin for Tommy now, he'd been wearing it since he was twenty, since before the Peaky Blinders and back when John was a pre-teen terrorising the streets. Since he wore it, Tommy's eyes would never stray to anyone else, not like some of the other blokes in his family and his hands never wandered unless it was (Y/n) within his reach. She kept him on the hypothetical straight and narrow, she kept his mind clear and his course straight. She created the rules Tommy made the Blinders live by, kept them from going too far over the edge into the darkness beyond.

"No, nothing you can do other than refill my glass."

Something akin to burning annoyance flooded Tommy's senses when Grace's hand reached out and her finger sweeped across the ring on his finger. Stopping his repeated action of spinning it around while she tapped the gold band and for a moment he thought she was about to try and take it off.

"You sure? I know all sorts of ways I could help, and I don't see your wife anywhere."

The closer she leaned over the bar, the tighter Tommy's hand clenched around the whiskey glass until he was close to shattering it into pieces. Why was she doing this? what did she have to gain from winding him up when she knew he was the one in charge? She had nothing to gain and everything to lose.

"Yeah, well, the Garrison is no place for a pregnant lady." His voice was quiet enough that Grace could barely make out what he'd said.

(Y/n) was a frequent visitor of the Garrison, especially with all the meetings and family business they held here. But on a night like this, when they were out for drinks and brawls started, Tommy didn't want (Y/n) anywhere near when things usually got hectic. He wasn't taking the risk of someone barging past her or starting a fight and having his pregnant wife getting caught in the middle of it all.

Tommy could feel himself rattling, trying hard to contain the rage burning within him when Grace's hand trailed up his arm until her arm was hooked around the back of his neck, reeling him in so they were both leaning over the bar meeting halfway.

He could see the way she was biting down on her lower lip despite the smile she wore like the cat that got the cream. She wasn't used to not getting her way, Tommy could practically feel that radiating off her.

When Tommy's lips curved up into something resembling a half smirk, Grace's eyes lit up like a wildfire. She leaned closer until their noses were almost brushing and parted her lips, feeling his breath mingling with hers.

Finally.

She was finally getting somewhere with him. It had taken weeks of agonising over what to say, how to act, how close to get without risk of being put back in her place in a not so kind way. But now, she had both arms hooked around him and his face was one inch away from kissing her. This is what she had been searching for, what she had been trying to make happen. Closing her eyes, Grace leaned closer.

A gasp tumbled past her lips and her eyes flashed open to be faced with a wider grin on Tommy's face than she had seen before, but it wasn't exactly a smile. It was something deeper, darker, sinister like a straight line cracked up at the corners.

His fingers were curled around her neck, keeping her hovering over the bar and with a little more pressure, he stopped her from breathing. Her crimped hair fluttered around her face like curtains trying to protect her but nothing could save her from Tommy's mean streak. He pulled her closer until her stomach jammed painfully into the edge of the bar and she was forced to press one hand against the bar to steady herself. While her other hand came up to dig her nails into his wrist, willing him to release her.

"My lips are for my wife only."

The crooked grin stayed on Tommy's lips after he roughly released Grace, throwing her back to her side of the bar before he stood up.

That should be a lesson learned to her. She needed to stop her advances and pesky intuition and burdening, nosey questions that were getting on Tommy's last nerve. He wouldn't be telling her again and he wouldn't be putting up with this any longer. This was his pub that she could easily be fired from and his town that he could run her out of without breaking into a sweat.

She needed to be careful who she messed with.

Tommy grabbed the cap from his coat pocket and placed it neatly over his hair before he turned on his heels and aimed for the door. It was time to go home.

"You'll be sorry."

Who was she trying to kid? What could she possibly do that would make Tommy sorry for killing her advances that he didn't want? As if he was going to be sorry for leaving her here in a flux while he went home, happily, to his wife.

"Fuck off."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Come on then, who are we meeting?" Polly leaned back in her seat and took a long drag of her cigarette whilst she crossed one leg over the other. A devilish smile curved around the cigarette and and raised a brow at her nephew who sat opposite her at the table.

They were waiting in the main bar of the Garrison for two business associates to arrive, then they would head into the private room for a chat. Polly had no clue who they were supposed to be meeting, only that Tommy wanted her with him rather than his brothers and that gave her a boosted sense of pride.

She was the one who ran the business while he was away and she gave him the advice he always needed, whether it regarded the business or the family.

"A new trade partner," Tommy took a swig of his drink before he checked his pocket watch. If they weren't here in five minutes they would be late and the meeting wouldn't happen. Tommy wouldn't wait around when he had better things to do, nobody made the Shelby's wait.

"Right, well I-"

The air of smoke Polly inhaled got caught in the back of her throat, causing an awful coughing fit. She dropped the cigarette into the ashtray on the table and leaned forward, patting her chest but Tommy could see her eyes were locked on something behind him.

Had the trade partners arrived? Did Polly know them by face or name or even personally?

"Pol?"

Tommy watched her regain her breath and composure but the way she stood up so rigid and tense made him very uneasy and he stood up with her although he wasn't sure why. He turned around to see what had gotten her attention so quickly and feverishly.

It was John.

The younger Shelby brother barged through the doors to the Garrison, his cap disgruntled on his head, his shirt a little skewed and his hands bloodied, but it was what he held in his hands that had caught Polly's attention.

He was gripping a dark purple button up coat that sent Tommy shivering in his polished shoes. It was the coat he bought (Y/n) just before Daisy was born, it was what she wore day in and day out no matter the weather or occasion. It was her favourite and (Y/n) never went anywhere without it. So why was John holding it in his hands? Why did it have splatters of blood on it?

A shockwave rattled through Tommy as he and Polly barged past the tables and rounded over to where John was stood. Within a second, Tommy wrenched the coat from his brother and took it in his own hands to examine it. The coat was damp and wet like it had been dropped in a puddle, but he knew it was (Y/n)'s. Undoubtedly.

"Where did you get this?" His voice was strangely dark with a malice tone but it was the look in Tommy's eyes that sent John reeling.

"Where have you been? What's happened?" Polly appeared at Tommy's side in an instant but she could see tears threatening to spill over in John's eyes. He needed to talk but he knew whatever he had to say wasn't going to go down well with his big brother or his aunt.

"John!"

"It was out in the street, j-just there near the road. Is it...?"

"Where the fuck is (Y/n)?"

Tommy knew no one would have the answer, John wouldn't come in here blundering about like a fool if he knew where (Y/n) was or if she was alright. But he needed to know where the Hell his wife was and what had happened to her for her coat to be left damp and bloody in the street like this.

It had to be a warning sign. Someone had taken his wife to spite him and if Tommy didn't find her, anything could happen to her and he couldn't allow that. He needed to have (Y/n) back safe and sound in his arms now or he might just go insane.

Throwing the cap from his head, Tommy clenched the coat in one hand and dragged his fingers through his hair, pulling at the strands until a few clusters of hair wrenched out and got stuck between his fingers. This couldn't be happening to him. He couldn't be dealing with this.

Every part of him began to shake and he spun round on his heels, trying to look ruond the bar to see who was here and who was watching. Was someone sat in the shadows that he hadn't noticed before? Was someone waiting to see his reaction and laugh in his face and taunt him for not knowing where his wife was? Was this some trick or sick, twisted mind game he would have to play to get (Y/n) back?

"You,"

The coat dropped from his hand and he stormed across the pub in an instant, reaching out for her when she tried to walk out the back and avoid his unfiltered rage.

"This is you. What have you done?" Tommy dug his fingers into Grace's upper arms so tightly that he knew bruises would be left in his wake but he didn't care.

She had told him that he would be sorry for pushing off her advances on him. No one else would dare go for (Y/n), no one would try and do anything to her when they knew the penalty for messing with his wife would mean death. Grace had been the one to watch him like a hawk since the moment she got here and she had been watching him tonight, noticing him, filling his glass without saying anything which wasn't like her.

Usually she would taunt him, flirt with him, try and get some kind of answers or useful information out of him. Tonight she hadn't said one thing to him and he took that to mean she had accepted his warning and was giving in her game of trying to flirt with him.

Maybe it was a sign of guilt instead.

"What have you done to her? Where is my wife?!"

He wasn't in control of himself. One moment Tommy's hands were on Grace's arms and the next, he had his fingers wrapped around her rather delicate throat and he squeezed. He squeezed her flesh until he could feel her trachea beneath his fingertips and he could dig his nails into her skin.

Grace stumbled back until she was backed into the bar, her knees buckling from the pressure but she was held up by Tommy's hands. Her face turned as red as the blood on (Y/n)'s coat and the veins started to pop in her eyes. Her delicate lips parted, gasping for any air that she could get but Tommy wouldn't relent. If anything, he added more pressure until he could see her mind shutting down and for a moment he didn't think he was going to stop. He thought he would strange her until she had no life left within her and he could happily bury her with the rest of the unnamed dead in the cemetery.

It was Polly and John who clawed at Tommy's arms and managed to wrestle him free from almost killing the barmaid. They all watched her slump to the floor, clawing at her chest and heaving for air like a wild animal about to die.

"She did this! It's her, get her talking!" Tommy frantically pointed and swatted at John until he got the hint and hoisted Grace roughly to her feet. He would have to take her somewhere to interrogate her because Tommy clearly had some inkling or knowledge that she knew what was happening and he was almost always right.

Tommy watched his younger brother drag the barmaid towards the exit before the whole world seemed to crash down around him and he stumbled into Polly for support.

"Tommy, what is it?"

"Daisy. Where's Daisy? Who has her she was with (Y/n)!"

He couldn't breathe. Dark hands wrapped around his lungs and nails pierced into them letting out all the air he had savoured, suffocating him from the inside out.

Where was his baby girl?

(Y/n) had been at home with Daisy today, she didn't say anything about going out anywhere and now something had happened to her. That meant that Daisy was either taken with (Y/n) and could possibly be tortured or she was somewhere else, alone and unsafe.

"She wasn't- I didn't think... all there was was the coat." John didn't even think about his niece when he found (Y/n)'s coat. How horrible did that make him? She didn't even cross his mind. He stared at the familiar coat and a slither of dread crept down his spine at the thought of someone hurting his sister. He bolted from the street to find Tommy, to let him know and find out how they could get her back to safety. He didn't even contemplate the thought of his niece being taken or lost.

Pushing past his brother, Tommy set out in a sprint away from the pub with Polly in tow behind him keeping a steady pace in her heels.

If nothing of Daisy's was left for him to find, maybe they hadn't taken her. He wouldn't put it past Grace to take Daisy too if this truly was her doing but he hoped, he prayed, she wouldn't. She had never seen his daughter, never crossed paths with her in the street and Tommy would never let his daughter in the Garrison.

Each breath Tommy took felt like a knife was piercing his chest over and over, leaving him spluttering and gasping as he bolted down the street towards his home on Watery lane.

For once, the door was open. That was a bad enough sign in itself because Tommy always locked the door from the moment he married (Y/n) and he made it clear even when she was home with him, the door was to be locked.

"Daisy? Baby it's daddy, where are you? Daisy!" The more he spoke, the more desperate Tommy became until he was roaring the words so loudly he almost shook the walls to their core. He needed to find her, he needed to find his baby and make sure she was okay. If she wasn't here he didn't know where he would look.

Polly bypassed him into the kitchen, about to check the garden as Tommy jumped up the first few steps on the stairs before a low, wailing caught his attention.

"Daisy?"

When the wailing got louder, Tommy stumbled back down the steps and almost ran into the kitchen before he stopped.

The cupboard.

He struggled with the cupboard door before finally sending a kick into it and wrenching it open.

There she was. There was his little girl, curled up in the corner of the cupboard beneath the stairs, clinging to one of Tommy's black Peaky coats that was wrapped around her like a blanket to keep her safe and hidden. Her pale face was beet red and stained with tears like she had shed a river and her hair was tousled around her head, matching her dads. But it was the desperate, howling cries she was letting out that broke Tommy's heart completely.

"Daisychain, baby it's daddy. Come here,"

Tommy went down on his knees and slowly reached out towards Daisy but he was surprised when she flung herself at him. Her face, wet with tears, burrowed into his neck and she sniffed and dribbled onto the collar of his shirt. Her arms deadlocked around his neck and she pressed her body into him, scutting beneath his coat to stay protected.

He burrowed his nose in her hair and took a slow, steady breath, trying to stop himself from fainting.

She was here in his arms and she didn't look hurt, only shaken and petrified. (Y/n) must have hidden her away in here when she knew something was happening.

"I've got you sweetheart," With a deep breath, Tommy stood up and took a few steps back as Polly came over and wrapped an arm around them both, tears of relief in her eyes.

"Where's mummy?"

"I'm gonna go get her, sweetheart. I promise."

Tommy kissed the top of her head and slowly rocked her in his arms, letting tears fall down his face. It had been so long since he cried. Nobody saw him cry anymore, he wouldn't give them the satisfaction. The only time he had properly cried since before the war was when Daisy was born. He had her safe and sound in his arms, but he couldn't answer her question because he didn't know where his wife was.

He had to find her.

[astra-ravana]

Black Arts Oil

This oil serves to aid all acts of necromancy and workings of malediction.

• Half a dropper of patchouli oil

• Half a dropper of black pepper oil

• A pinch of valerian root

• A pinch of lightly ground mustard seeds

• A pinch of spanish moss

• A pinch of mullein

• 9 whole peppercorns, lightly ground

• A pinch of powdered sulpher

• A pinch of black dog hair

• The ashes of 3 crow feathers

• A generous pinch of graveyard soil

Blend into half an ounce of carrier oil

[gilverrwrites]

Supernatural Taste and Smell Headcanons

I included a lot of characters (I think 24?), but if your fave didn't make the cut, just send me an ask!

Dean

Smell: Leather, cinnamon, and the kind of musk that only comes from an axe body spray, cause you know what man only buys whatever is quick and easy at the gas station. He’d also smell like gasoline.

Taste: Malty like beer, but sweet in the way bbq sauce is sweet.

Sam

Smell: I just feel like (when he’d not hunting) he smells clean, ya know? Citrusy and woody, kind of like D&G light blue, with undertones of like a ‘fresh’ scented fabric softener.

Taste: Kind of fruity but tart, like a berry smoothie.  Also just a little bit of like garlic, or mustard.

John

Smell: That man is a smoker, and you can’t tell me otherwise – at least later in life, way after the marines, and losing Mary. He always has a stale smoke smell on his clothes and lips. I recon he uses old spice or similar as an aftershave, so also like cloves/sage.

Taste: Again smoky, ashy, but also oaky and malty like bourbon.

Mary

Smell: Citrusy like Sam but darker, smokier (joke not intended) with hints of like jasmine, bergamot, and a little bit of vanilla. 100% the kind of smell that wraps you up if you come in for a hug.  

Taste: Chocolate, specifically the kinds with nuts and caramel, woman has a sweet tooth.

Castiel

Smell: I feel like all angels smell at least a little like parma violets, or some kind of sweet and subtle floral smell, be especially Cas. On top of that, he’d have like other earthy scentes, like honey,  patchouli, maybe a bit of amber.

Taste: Coffee, always coffee. When human/when he eats; grape jelly, and honey.

Jack

Smell: Like Cas he has the sort of clean, floral scent to him. I also think he would smell of peppermint and like a yankee candle version of warm vanilla. He just has a cosy, familiar smell to him.

Taste: Again I think minty, additionally like white chocolate and rose/flora flavours.

Bobby

Smell: Like old books, burnt candle wicks, motor oils, and nose hair singing whisky.

Taste: More than anyone else on this list (including Crowley) Bobby tastes like whisky. Not the good stiff though, that’s only for special occasions. He taste like Jim Beam and Jack Daniels.

Crowley

Smell: Like a bonfire!!! Smokey, warm, woody, with a hint of burnt sugar.

Taste: 100% Whisky, and dark chocolate.

Charlie

Smell: Charlie smells like she just stepped out of a fantasy book, like wildflowers, and peppercorn. Like strawberry and blackcurrant wine.

Taste: Like a vegan alternative to Nutella, creamy, chocolatey, nutty.

Meg

Smell: Surprisingly soft and clean. Milky, with almond and peach. Just a hint of leather and cedarwood underneath.

Taste: Salty and sweet, anise: like a strawberry liquorice.

Ruby

Smell: Like cedarwood, ginger, and pink pepper. Pleasant but sharp, and strong. Like it pulls you in from across the room.

Taste: Bold and sweet like cabernet sauvignon, starkly contrasted by pepperoni and cheesy pasta.

Lucifer

Smell: Similar to Jack, in that he smells clean and minty. However, his is sharper, harsher. There is lime, and moss, and mahogany.

Taste: Like pure Moroccan mint, with that like sweet sourness you get on things like a tangfastics or a sourpatch kid. Like if you’re not expecting it, or you taste it for to long it will make you squirm.

Gabriel

Smell: Like walking into the kitchen of a bakery just before opening and they’re prepping everything. Mocha, malted sugar, rich caramel, creamy vanilla.  

Taste: All of the above again! Just so sweet and creamy. Like a spoonful of sugar.

Raphael

Smell: Very similar to Cas, floral, but less earthy, and more sterile. Like aloe vera and antiseptic.

Taste: Again, very clean. He has a flavour the way cucumber has flavour? Refreshing, clean, but not notable.

Michael/Adam 😍

Smell: Kind of like the ocean, meets the forrest. Musk, white lilies, salt, collided with pine, sandalwood, and cedar. Cold, but familiar, ya know?

Taste: Hear me out: Fruit loops, and Dr Pepper. Like Michael has little say over what they eat, that’s all on Adam. And after the initial, ‘I haven’t eaten in 1200 years, I’m gonna eat everything I craved’ has worn off. He’s just like, a normal guy (who does not need to eat because he shares his body with an immortal angel). So, I can see him mostly reaching for snacks that make him feel good, that remind him of his mum, or his childhood, something comforting; like sugary cereals and fizzy drinks. I love them, I will take no criticism.

Rowena

Smell: Like an apothecary. Rich and indulgent. Very aromatic with lots of deep woody tones, sweet cherry, dark rose and other florally scents.

Taste: Like a bottle of mataro, or Nebbiolo wine. Spice, cherry, plum, smoke. She both smells and tastes intoxicatingly expensive.   

Chuck

Smell: Kind of musky, cottony, leafy. I don’t really imagine him smelling too strongly of anything.

Taste: Summary and tart, like a sea breeze cocktail. (Grapefruit, cranberry, lime – an acquired taste)  

Amara

Smell: Similar to Chuck, I sort of envision an absence of smell. Maybe just hints of amber, sandalwood, and a musky citrusy scent.

Taste: Like a white dessert whine, like Riesling. Dry but sweet. Honey, and pears.

Billie

Smell: Bergamot, rose, silk, and cocoa. Inviting and pleasant, but with an undertone of darkness.

Taste: Very similar to scent, sweet and warm but with an aftertaste of something bitter; blackcurrant and dark chocolate

Benny

Smell: Robust (Copper, ginger, tobacco,) but enticing (amber, cardamom, cinnamon).

Taste: I mean, I have tried really had to not add blood to any of the previous entries, but Benny undeniably tastes like blood.

Kevin

Smell: Not good. Pre-prophethood, not so much; I imagine like mint, green tea, jasmine, the kind of smell you would expects from a reasonably priced aftershave. During prophethood, the aftershave is long forgotten; its more fried chicken, old paper, and forgetting to shower for 9 days.

Taste: Like redbull, chexmix, and mouthwash.

Eileen

Smell: Like peaches, and roses, rich chocolate, and strong coffee.

Taste: Chocolate and coffee again, but hints of sparkly summer fruits.

Ketch

Smell: Like high end British aftershaves only the royal family know off, something with notes of fig, and oud, and other pretentious smells. The small of cigar smoke, and leather follow him around too.

Taste: Like earl grey tea, and dry gin.

Balthazar

Smell: Kind of like ketch, some high end and expensive (if he actually had to pay for it). But woodsier, and fresh. He would also have that hidden undertone of violet.

Taste: Creamy and hazelnutty, but there’s a constant aftertastes alcohol, and something metallic to him, no  matter what comes first.

[friend-shaped-but]

Drishtaketu

tagging all those who requested this for wip wednesday: @zyrafowe-sny @kallisto-k @enigma-the-mysterious @loyal-house-of-lupin @wizisbored @eriquin @post-and-out

Drishtaketu's first memory was of being a young boy, about five years old, sitting on his father's shoulders. His second memory was of being about eight, being handed a sword. Drishtaketu’s third memory is sitting on the floor, his mother oiling his hair. His fourth memory is looking at her, dressed to the nines during some royal ceremony, and thinking with a childish innocence, ‘She’s beautiful’. 

Drishtaketu’s most important memory, though, is not with his mother or father, but with uncle Shikhandi. He had bundled little Drishtaketu up in a shawl and plopped him onto a horse, mounted the steed behind him, and one hand on the reins, the other arm around him, had taken him to the top of a hill overlooking most of Southern Panchal, and shown him the rolling mustard fields, golden-spired buildings, and told him, with love and reverence and utmost earnestness, “This is your home, my little star. You have to take care of it,” He took his uncle’s words very seriously. 

“A king was like a gardener”, his grandfather had told him once. “He nourishes new life, all the while weeding out that which is unsuccessful or harmful. He has to have his hands in the dirt, his head in the blazing, burning sun. But the kingdom is his garden, and he has to make it the best damn garden he can,” 

People say he is the exact opposite of his father. He is emotional, too emotional. When he asks his mother, she laughs, and asks him, “Is anger not an emotion?” 

When he is told that he is talkative, too talkative, his mother says, “Don’t the eyes of the crown prince talk?” 

His favourite colour is a deep, deep green. His favourite scent is jasmine. He loves his little brothers(especially Kshatradev, but don’t tell anyone), he loves his mom. He likes going swimming with his father. He can mimic most voices faultlessly, fooling almost everyone. He likes taking walks in the garden with his mother and aunt shalaka after finishing a gruelling workout with his aunt and her bodyguard. He likes to motivate people, make them happy. 

His father does not speak much. He commands, he leads, and it is his voice that booms through the armoury as he commands the trainees. He is a harsh teacher, but Dhrishtadyumna never lets him think that he is not cherished. Loved. One day, he takes the torch from him, and with a firm hand on his shoulder and a piercing gaze, asks him, “You were planning to sleep on that bench over there, were you not?” 

Drishtaketu averts his gaze. 

“Do not stay here past sunset, and do not come here in anger,” Father says, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I will wake you up early so you can practise with the battleaxe. Not now.” 

He is woken up before sunrise, his father shaking him. “Battleaxe practice, remember? I am not teaching you anything new before you master that move,”  

He trains all morning, collapses into his bed, and naps all afternoon. When he wakes up, the sun disappearing into the horizon, he sees his father, sitting on the bed beside him, idly twirling a paper knife in his hands. He looks up and smiles at his father, and feels the ghost of a hand stroke his head. 

“You’re not going to sleep tonight anyway, we should go camping. Would you like to take your uncle along?” He asks. 

Drishtaketu shakes his head. 

His father is a good listener, he realises. They talk more that night than they have done in probably his entire life. 

Father says he is terrible at reading people, but somehow, Drishtaketu cannot get anything past him. He is caught out when he impersonates grandfather well enough to fool all his brothers and aunts and uncles, but his father just says, with a heavy tiredness and a reprimand in his voice, “Ketu…” and he swallows and backs down. 

Father and grandfather have not talked in years. 

“You are not going to turn out like your father, or grandfather, or great-grandfather, a mercenary who will raze Panchal with war once more,” uncle Satyajit deadpans one day, and smiles and shows him how to correct the wrong calculations he made. He’s eccentric, spiteful, and sometimes acts like he’s off his rocker, yet somewhere, beneath all that chaos, is a calm and composure that he admires. His wisdom is earned from him, sure, but that’s not all. When he becomes a quippy fighter, he can frequently hear his father muttering curses at uncle jitu. 

His favourite person in the world is Kshatradev, 17 years younger than him and- he’s the light of his life. He will protect little Kshatra with his life, he decides. He will not let even the slightest inconvenience befall him. He will- 

Oh, his cousins are coming to stay over. He should get used to them. 

“We do not seek the throne because of the power it gives us, Vindhya,” he tells his younger brother, whose position as crown prince is on dangerously shaky ground. “We seek it because we care. You have to care.” He takes Vindhya’s shaking hand in his. “Push past the apathy, and look toward the future,” 

For the first time since the dyuta sabha, for the first time since he heard his mother’s screams, her sobs, and her blazing, burning anger, he allows himself to feel it. He pushes past the apathy, and sobs. 

What are the next few years? Is he preparing his brothers to be the rulers of Indraprastha, or is he resigning them to be refugees in Panchal? Is he preparing himself for a lush, golden panchal, or a razed wasteland? How will his father’s rule- if it will come to be- change Panchal? And will his own rule salvage Panchal, or ravage it? 

The questions keep him up at night, but he never tells anyone.

There is war. 

He is the Senapati’s son. Head held high, he leads more and more men each day, not bothering to speak to his father, not bothering to disturb him and Shatanik and- He wakes up, fights, and goes back to bed. Later. He will be a human later, he thinks exhaustedly. He was his mother’s son before, sun-drenched like the moon, radiant like the flowers she so loved. He misses her, though. He remembers burying his head in her shoulder, hugging her tight and promising to come back before he left, only to be shushed. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she had said brusquely, and pushed him out the door. For now, he will be every inch his father’s son, an unyielding weapon that never breaks, never bends, never falters, never fails. 

Seeing the young prince’s body with the splinters of the spear still left behind in his chest reminds him of his own little brothers. He casts a quick, imperceptible glance at Kshatra, at Shrutakarma, and lets the fire of the burning pyre burn his eyes until they water. 

The commander in him wants to tell Sutasoma to stand straight, look ahead, take the compliments passed his way graciously, what he did was no small thing, but the older brother in him finds it so adorable how Sutasoma squirms under the attention. 

He holds Shatanik’s hands as he waits outside the medic’s tent, worried for Shrutakarma. He tells how grievously injured Shrutakarma is to Kshatradev, holding him back from bursting into the tent to see him, to see his uncles and brothers wrestle with Yama himself to bring the baby of the family, the best charioteer of this generation back to life. Kshatra heaves a sigh of relief when he is alive, and hops into his chariot to flay alive every single person who dared to touch his elder brother. 

One commander down. 

Kshatra dies a day later. Head in his knees, he cries and cries and cries and cr-

He misses Uncle Jitu, he muses absently, when stories come through about how sassy and brave and plucky Abhimanyu was. He hears stories about the boy taunting seasoned warriors,  standing seven against one in the blazing sun. He didn’t fight like a Parshata, he supposes. He fought like a Yadava. Improvised weapons, and a boldness that only the yadavas can possess. But the way he quipped? Oh lord, he might not have Parshata blood, but he sure understood why Aunt Agnijaa called him her son. 

He is thirty two, now. Crows' feet crop up whenever he smiles. His father looks younger than him. Today, after a fight with the strategist, he is refusing to come out of the tent. He can mimic voices, he looks a lot like his father. The army is losing morale. In the blink of an eye, he makes a decision that he thinks will alter the battle. He takes off his arm guards, wears the armour with the golden standard of the senapati of Panchal, and rides his father’s chariot out to battle. 

“Attack!” 

[restorativemeal]

Menu Twenty

Menu Twenty from Rowan Bishop and Sue Carruthers' "The Vegetarian Adventure Cookbook".

Cream of Tomato Soup: butter, onion, celery, tomatoes, brown sugar, parsley, italian herbs, bay leaf, salt and pepper, vegetable stock, marmite, flour, yoghurt, sour cream

Magical Courgette Bake: courgette, egg, milk, cottage cheese, wholemeal flour, baking powder, salt and pepper, cheese, pumpkin seeds

Jacket Potatoes: potatoes, salt, butter, sour cream

Sweet Baked Parsnips: parsnips, salt and pepper, margarine, brown sugar

Red Capsicum Salad with Snow Peas: capsicums, peas, olive oil, lemon juice, red wine vinegar, garlic, basil, mustard powder, salt and pepper

Despite the feelings of positivity I had found in Week Twenty-Eight, it was now Week Twenty-Nine and those feelings were gone. To me, though it was now April, the new year had only just rolled over. There was a newness that typically comes with January 1st. Nothing from January, February, or March was coming with me into April. I had nothing to show for myself and nothing going my way. Now returning to the soup section of the cookbook to complete Menu Twenty, a four page spread whose presence I had feared since discovering it months ago. I couldn’t draw similarity to the previous soup weeks because of the overarching theme of newness. 

April began with Easter, granting a day off of the structured labour in my life. Then the sound of screeching tyres and an all encompassing smash, tin colliding with tin. Doors opening and closing, voices, and a car with a crushed behind over the driveway. There was a car accident on the street on Monday morning. Neighbours banded together, and I sent my flatmate outside with the frozen mint peas purchased a week earlier. I was first aid trained but didn’t want to crowd the scene. It felt symbolic, the correlation between a young man stepping too hard on his accelerator, and the feeling that my life was speeding up also. I was still certain from the week before that the universe mapped every event that prevailed down on Earth. The cars were written off, neither one insured, and the fate of both parties troubled me and I became concerned with how self-indulgent I had become through this process. 

Early preparations.

Early fears of Menu Twenty were quelled by the experience and familiarity I had of my kitchen.  The quiet of the kitchen on a Wednesday evening was my break from an otherwise chaotic and unfruitful existence. I cooked diligently, grating, chopping, portioning, blending and cooking down. Guests came in, just three who didn’t reside at the flat. I blended again and tended the oven, before I knew it, there was a Cream of Tomato Soup, Magical Courgette Bake, plate of Jacket Potatoes, Sweet Baked Parsnips, and a Red Capsicum Salad with Snow Peas on the bench in my silent kitchen.

Trivial moments.

We sat at the table and I became anti-social. My hair had grown to a point that I no longer recognised myself and I felt stifled, unable to relate to anyone as if I were meeting them for the first time. With five different meals, we were spoilt for choice. Perhaps the decision of where to begin was overwhelming to all, or just me. The Red Capsicum Salad with Snow Peas, had been made with green capsicum rather than red, and the frozen mint peas rather than snow. “I’ll never amount to anything,” I exclaimed, before swallowing a glass of white wine. Still the least intelligent at the table as my guests played with their food. Jacket Potato into a small man. I considered my future and put my foot in my mouth. Three times sitting at the corner of the table. Discussion turned to silent retreats and the good things we had heard about them. One guest turned to me and said, “you couldn’t do it.” I looked down at my plate and noticed I had spoken too much over dinner because everyone else had finished their plates except me, I still had half of my own Jacket Potato.

The dinner table.

By the end of Week Twenty-Nine, I was all negativity. Seeking guidance through forms of nonviolent silencing and willful ignorance, socialising with groups I wasn’t so familiar with.  I considered whether it was inhumane to refer to such good friends as mere guests. Was I downplaying the roles they played in the cookbook? At the very least it was April and my faith in the universe remained unshaken.

[angstyaches]

For holiday requests, how about someone overindulging on some eggnog?

🎄🥂

Word Count: 4000+

CW: interspersed angst, stomach ache, repressed stress, tense sibling relationship, overeating/drinking, alcohol, burping, mild nausea.

___

Oli beamed from under the hood of her elf onesie. “Eggnog?” 

She had already filled four mugs of it and then piled them high with aesthetically-pleasing swirls of whipped cream dusted with cinnamon. The mugs were all matching, reindeer faces protruding from the ceramics, and had been neatly arranged on a black lacquerware tray. Last year, the trusty mugs had held hot chocolate with peppermint syrup. The year before, mulled wine with chunky cinnamon sticks.  

“Is it alcoholic?” Nadja flinched as Lilith whacked her in the stomach with the back of their hand. “What?” 

“I-I can open a bottle of wine.” Rex was standing next to Oli, her fingers lightly resting on her girlfriend’s shoulder. She had brought her hair up to shoulder-length, and it fell it tight, forest-green curls from underneath her Santa hat. The white bobble bounced back and forth as she glanced towards the kitchen, then back at Nadja. “Or… prosecco? I think there’s a bottle of prosecco.” 

Nadja’s eyes did something Lilith hadn’t seen them do all day’; not while they’d opened presents, not while family members had filed in, not when the Christmas pudding had been set aflame; light up. “Ooh, yes, please.” 

“I think I’ll join you.” Rex lifted her hand from Oli’s shoulder. She had done her nails with a glamour, turning them a deep, shimmering blue.  Tiny white snowflakes drifted softly through the air surrounded her fingertips, vanishing above her cuticles before reappearing at the tips of her nails. “Lilith?” 

“I’m going to try Oli’s eggnog.” 

“Just us two then,” Rex smiled at Nadja. 

Nadja gave a low chuckle as she followed Rex through to the kitchen. Rex started opening cupboards with her back turned, unaware that she’d just made a best friend for life. 

“More for us.” Lilith winked at Oli, rubbing their palms together and selecting a reindeer mug from the tray. 

“Precisely.” Oli rested the tray of down on the coffee table and grabbed a mug for herself. She sat, and Lilith followed her lead.  

The cheesy Christmas blankets and throw cushions were strewn across the sofa, greens and reds contrasting against the mustard-yellow upholstery. A digital fireplace burned on the TV screen, crackling beneath soft instrumental holiday music. For today only, the apartment was full of the smells of cinnamon, vanilla, and cloves. No doubt that tomorrow it would be back to smelling equally of engine oil and sage. 

Rex trotted back from the kitchen, her arms laden with the prosecco bottle, bottle opener, two glass flutes, and a digital magnetic timer. Nadja shuffled behind, hands swinging, and sat down on the couch next to Lilith. 

“Their place is smaller than I pictured, but it’s really nice,” she whispered. 

Lilith pursed their lips and took a mouthful of eggnog so that they wouldn’t have to reply.  

They loved their sister, they truly did, but after a day of enduring family niceties, it was hard to keep up the same pace. Drinks at Rex and Oli’s was usually a tradition kept between the three of them, but for the first time since she’d turned eighteen, Nadja was single for Christmas. For the last three months she’d been making it known how depressed she was about it. Lilith had been venting to Rex about how hard it was to keep reassuring their sister when they were already dealing with their own relationship issues, when Rex had insisted that Nadja come over on Christmas Day, too. 

To top it all off, Nadja had still moped like a teenager all day, and didn’t seem to appreciate just how much of an honour it was to intrude on this sacred tradition. She slipped into things that belonged to Lilith like she’d always secretly owned them first. 

She didn’t realise how badly Lilith needed this. Not just a respite from real life, but a respite from all of their multiple versions of real life. Tonight, they weren’t a witch, weren’t a warrior, weren’t an agent, weren’t anything but... 

But what? 

These were all bad, not very Christmassy, thoughts, and Lilith drowned them under a mouthful of whipped cream from the top of their mug. And then they swallowed it all down. After licking the cream from their lips, they took another swig, this time from deeper in the mug. 

It was the perfect temperature, hot enough for them to feel it warm them on its way down, and deliciously rich and smooth. Lilith wasn’t sure why they had expected eggnog to taste like scrambled eggs, and their eyes literally opened wider as they processed the fact that they were basically drinking custard. All their life, they had been the kind of person to take the smallest possible sliver of Christmas pudding and then make it swim in custard. All this time, this had been an option, and they’d been totally oblivious? 

“Oli, that’s fucking gorgeous,” they hurried to say in between sips. 

“Thank you!” 

“Is it?” Nadja’s shoulders slumped. Lilith practically saw the FOMO flash through her eyes. She quickly got over it, though, at about the same time as Rex placed a flute of prosecco in her hand. 

“Cheers, m’dears,” Rex said softly, clinking her flute against Nadja’s. She also reached across to clink Lilith’s mug, and then Oli’s.  

Lilith eyed the red lipstick smudges on their mug, feeling a bit ashamed that they’d already taken a drink. Well, several. 

“And Merry Christmas,” Rex added, stepping over the coffee table with her drink still raised in the air. Her eyes glinted, purple and shimmering, as she turned and smiled. “We survived another one.” 

“We sure did, babe.” Oli gazed up at her girlfriend as though she couldn’t quite believe her eyes that she existed. The two of them generally weren’t sappy or lovey-dovey with Lilith around, but since they couldn’t exactly be a third wheel with a fourth person around, Oli seemed to have taken the opportunity to fawn a little. It seemed to take a bit of effort for her to turn her head to include Lilith and Nadja. “Merry Christmas, beautiful humans.” 

“Yep. Merry Christmas,” Nadja agreed with a nod. A tad solemn, but she was trying. Lilith felt a sudden wave of guilt for resenting Nadja for coming along. She looked so happy, so comfortable, and Oli and Rex were all too delighted to welcome her into their home. 

And Lilith Mars Forrester was many things, but they were not a Grinch – even if their jumper literally had the Grinch’s face knitted into it. At the end of the day, they were sitting in a room with three of the most important women in their life. 

“Merry Christmas,” they smiled. “I love you guys.” 

Toasting done, Rex flopped on a purple beanbag on the floor. She had placed the magnetic timer on the coffee table while she’d been serving the prosecco and giving cheers, but she picked it up now, tapping buttons until there were five minutes on the clock. 

“And with that, I hereby declare,” she said, “this year’s official Christmas Day Decompression Session… begun!” 

Oli instantly launched into a passionate tale of how her brother-in-law had forgotten to bring the cranberry sauce for the turkey, even though they’d called him three times in December to make sure he remembered. This had descended into madness, with the brother-in-law accusing Oli’s mother of never liking him in the first place. The words tumbled out of her in a hurry, since time was of the essence. 

Nadja looked at Lilith with wild confusion. Ah. They’d forgotten to explain it to her, hadn’t they? Or had they purposefully omitted it? 

“We have five minutes to be as negative as we want about Christmas with our families,” Lilith whispered. “Then we let it all go and enjoy the rest of the night.” 

“What?” Nadja hissed. 

Sweat tickled the back of Lilith’s neck. 

“Do you complain about me, you bastard?” 

Once again, Lilith forewent acknowledging her by filling their mouth with an excessive amount of eggnog. Looking back a moment later, they realised that not answering was probably far worse than answering honestly, but by then it was too late. 

“Alright.” Oli sighed deeply and waved a palm to the room. “Somebody else go.” 

“Lilith bought me a makeup palette I already own,” Nadja blurted out. She threw an accusatory glance in Lilith’s direction and then seemed to quietly seek validation from Rex and Oli. 

Rex grinned into her prosecco glass. Oli grimaced and leaned forward, pressing her elbows into her knees like she was watching sports. 

“I – did I?” Lilith coughed, a splash of eggnog catching in their throat. Their heart thumped in their chest as they remembered that afternoon in the department store, picking up bottles, trying to decide which one to buy. Their hands shaking. Their brain buzzing with the details of a quarry they still hadn’t tracked down. Trying not to think about how many more victims were being made while the Hand continued to gather intel –  

“I’m sorry.” They swallowed, glancing at Rex in her festive hat and pyjamas. Christmas Day. Friends. Happy, happy, happy. They looked at Nadja. “I have the receipt. We can go and exchange it tomorrow.” 

“Thank you.” Nadja nodded and looked quite pleased with that outcome. Or with… herself? Did she think the Christmas Day Decompression Session was a game, and that she’d just somehow won? Lilith was disappointed in themself for even wondering that. Of course that was how Nadja saw it. 

“Is that it?” Lilith asked brusquely. 

“That’s it.” 

“Okay…” Lilith frowned in thought as their sister took a drink. They’d half-expected her to complain about how many times their father had brought up Stephen, Nadja’s last boyfriend, despite the fact they’d broken up back in April. If this had been a regular year, with just Lilith, Rex, and Oli, Lilith would have vented their frustration about having to hear about it so many times.  

But with her sitting right there, already stewing, it felt wrong to bring it up. 

Lilith took a slurp of eggnog to give themself a few more seconds to think. “Um. Oh! Petra’s perfume. What the fuck was that?” 

Nadja hummed. “Yes! I could smell her from a mile away.” 

“Wait. There are two Petras in your family, right? Are you talking about your cousin?” Rex asked. 

“Our aunt,” Lilith and Nadja both replied. 

“Ah.” 

“You can probably smell her on us,” Lilith declared, smiling as Nadja buried her nose against the sleeve of her cardigan. 

“I think I can, you know!” 

They both burst out laughing at the same time, and Lilith literally had to hold themself around the waist. Admittedly, it wasn’t that funny, but on top of an already-full stomach topped with eggnog, it was enough to make them worry that their sides would split. 

“Uh, Rex?” Lilith asked, tossing the metaphorical baton across to her where she was still perched on the beanbag. 

It took Rex a few seconds to wipe the look of bewilderment off her face. After that, she held up her phone and began to read from what seemed to be a pre-compiled list of grievances. It was like listening to spoken word poetry, and Lilith sipped away on their eggnog, enthralled. ‘Second-cousin Robert might literally be a flat-earther’ was a highlight. Despite what Nadja might have felt, there were no prizes in the Christmas Day Decompression Session, but if there had been, Rex might have won Most Concerning Relative that year. 

As the timer beeped to mark the end of the Decompression Session, Lilith was cradling an almost-empty mug in their hands and silently offering up their gratitude that nobody had experienced anything homophobic or transphobic this year. It was a little frustrating that that was how low the bar was set, but it was still worth celebrating. 

“Okay. Everyone, breathe in.” Rex closed her eyes and slowly lifted her hands, palms up, from her knees, stopping when they were just higher than her head. Lilith gently inflated their lungs, matching the pace of Rex’s movements. She was actually making them breathe a little too fast, in Lilith’s professional opinion, but they weren’t about to be a Grinch about it.  

Not everybody knew how to become so relaxed that their heartbeat slowed right down, almost to a stop, so that even nearby vampires found it hard to locate you – 

“And out.” Rex brought her hands back down again. Slowly. Ish. 

Beneath her straight-cut bangs, Nadja’s eyebrows were mashed towards each other, as though she could force-of-will her way to Christmas enlightenment. Lilith downed the rest of their eggnog. It was a shame that there were two more full mugs cooling off on the lacquerware tray. 

“I’m going to take another,” they announced, wiggling a finger in the direction of the tray, “if nobody else will?” 

Oli nodded and gestured to the tray. She had shaken down her hood, revealing her choppy pixie cut. Her eyes locked onto Lilith’s. “Are you okay?” 

“Uh-huh.” Lilith smiled as they swapped their empty mug for a new one. They went straight in for a gulp of whipped cream from the top, then took a deep swig. It was still hot, still heavenly. 

“I’m glad you like it. It was my first time making it.” Oli pointed over her shoulder, vaguely in the direction of the kitchen. ““We have mince pies, pigs-in-blankets, and cheese and crackers, if anyone’s hungry.”  

“Are you kidding?” Rex planted a hand on her stomach. She curled up a little tighter on the beanbag. “Are you actively trying to kill me with food?” 

“Not you, babe. I said if anyone is hungry.” 

Lilith sat up a little straighter, twisting a lock of straightened hair from their shoulder. “Did you make the mince pies, Oli?” 

She nodded and inclined her chin. “You want one, don’t you?” 

“If you wouldn’t mind...” 

Oli sprang to her feet. “Nadja?” 

Lilith had never heard Oli say their sister’s name aloud before, and it was obvious that she wasn’t quite sure whether it should be two syllables or three. 

Nadja grinned and nodded. “Yes, please.” 

Oli smirked and stuck her tongue out at Rex. “Rex, how many can I put you down for?” 

The pile of fuzzy red fabric on the beanbag let out a long groan. 

Lilith focused on slowing their heart rate, grateful that Rex didn’t sit back up to try to talk to them. Nadja was preoccupied with sipping her prosecco, and humming along to the tune of Jingle Bell Rock as it played through the TV speakers. 

When Oli returned from the kitchen, she was carrying two mince pies on a ceramic plate. She leaned over and handed the plate to Nadja, but instead of going straight back to her spot in the armchair, Oli crouched by Rex’s beanbag. From behind, she scooped her girlfriend into a hug, rubbing her hand over her belly. 

“You’ll be alright,” Oli said. She kissed Rex’s cheek and got up, hopping back into her armchair. 

“You guys are so cute.” Nadja sulked and picked at the foil casing on her pie. “I wish I was a lesbian.” 

“Nadja,” Lilith chided, but noted that Rex and Oli were both laughing, and it wasn’t forced laughter. “Shut up and eat your pie.” 

She snorted. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” 

Nobody had to tell Lilith, not even once. They took slow, tidy bites, careful not to get crumbs on Rex and Oli’s couch, and they were about halfway through when the rich, fruity filling began to stick in the back of their throat. The pastry-filling ratio was perfect, and was by no means too dry; it was just a matter of trying to force more food into their already overworked stomach. Christmas Day dinner was much heavier than what Lilith was used to eating. They’d had just enough digesting time to forget how full they’d been.  

After washing down the last of the mince pie with a long swallow of eggnog, Lilith had to fight for their life to stifle a belch. They held their breath, willing their belly to settle down. The trapped air still shifted uncomfortably, gurgling as it shifted through their stomach contents. 

“Was that your stomach?” Nadja asked, barely stifling a yawn. 

“Yes…”  

“That sounded like a polar bear waking up,” Nadja observed. 

Rex smiled sympathetically from the beanbag, her eyes travelling to Lilith’s middle. Like Nadja, she seemed to be fighting a yawn, her eyes glistening. “Are you good?” 

If everyone was looking at them anyway, there was no point in making themself suffer more, so Lilith released a short, breathy burp. “I’m just kind of full,” they admitted, raising their mug to try to swallow down the acidic taste in their mouth. 

“Lilith!” Oli cried, following the motion of Lilith’s hand. “You just said you were full! What are you doing?” 

“Oli and the Ivy, are you attempting to ‘nog-shame me?” 

Oli’s eyebrows darted up. “Uh, no. That wouldn’t be very in line with the Oli-day spirit.”

Lilith winked as they took a sip. The eggnog was getting cool now, but it tasted just as good. 

“Let’s do something,” Rex piped up, sitting forward on the beanbag. She tapped her cheeks and shook her head, making her Santa hat bobble whip from one shoulder to the other. “Otherwise I’m just going to get drunk and sleepy and not fun. Shall we play a game?” 

Nadja visibly perked up. “A drinking game?”  

Oli’s mouth opened, then snapped shut again as she looked at Rex. Lilith’s stomach contorted as something private seemed to pass between the two of them. Was it just-the-two-of-them private, or was it inner-circle private? Would they have told Lilith what was going on if Nadja hadn’t been here? 

“You don’t need a game to drink, Nads.” Lilith tapped the underside of their sister’s prosecco glass. “If you want to drink, just drink.” 

She shrugged as if to say ‘fair point’, and tipped her glass towards her lips. 

Rex produced a deck of cards from a wooden crate sitting next to the TV. The artwork on the cards was themed around Roman deities, each royal depicting a different god or goddess. Lilith didn’t need to ask to know that they belonged to Oli, who was a secret Ancient Rome history buff, while Rex was more enamoured with Egyptian mythology. 

She dealt them all into a game of rummy. Oli changed the fireplace channel to Christmas With The Kranks, in the hopes that it wouldn’t lull anyone to sleep like the instrumental music almost had. By the time Oli had completed a seven-card run, Lilith had only collected a pair and a triple; but in their defense, the majority of their body’s energy was focused on digesting the sickly weight in their stomach. 

They finished the dregs of their second mug of eggnog and laid it down on the tray. They tentatively eyed the last untouched mug. The whipped cream had deflated and sunk into the liquid below, but they had no doubt that it would taste just as lovely. 

“Why am I so bad at this?” Nadja grumbled, handing Rex her cards so they could be shuffled back into the deck for the next game. 

“Lilith,” Oli said, “you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking?” 

Lilith grinned. “Well, as long as you’re not eyeing it up…” 

Rex laughed to herself as she shuffled the cards. 

Oli rolled her eyes, barely containing a grin. “You are the only one doing that.” 

It was with just a little sheepishness that Lilith reached for the last mug. They slurped up what was left of the dissolving whipped cream. It slipped far too easily down their throat. As they watched Rex deal the hands for the next game, they felt that first, cold, slightly clumpy mouthful gurgle its way out of their oesophagus. 

Nadja muttered under her breath as she began organising her cards. She held them close, her eyes narrowed, her hand purposefully turned away from Lilith, as though they might have been trying to cheat her out of some imagined victory. 

When Rex won the next game, Nadja threw down her cards with a little more force than was necessary. She snatched up her prosecco glass and stared at the TV, trying to pretend she hadn’t really cared or paid attention to the game at all. Lilith knew her tricks.  

They weren’t good tricks. 

“Nadja, it’s fine,” Lilith whispered, their temper simmering. Nadja’s obsession with winning every game under the sun was one of the reasons they didn’t usually want to spend the entirety of Christmas Day with her. They knew where her frustration came from though, knew that it wasn’t pettiness, wasn’t a cry for attention, wasn’t the behaviour of a bratty child. 

She sighed. “I… think I’m going to sit the next game out.” 

“We don’t have to keep playing.” Rex’s snowflakes were still softly trickling down her nails as she gathered up the cards. “We can just chill and watch the movie.” 

Rex adjusted the lights, lowering the main lights and flicking on an extra floor lamp to supplement the fairy lights and fibre optic tree. Oli jumped up, remembering that there were some Christmas crackers that hadn’t been pulled, and they all pulled two each.  

Lilith won twice but slipped their prizes into Nadja’s lap. It was just a cheap pencil sharpener and a fortune-selling fish, but her eyes lit up all the same. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly. And then Lilith realised that there might have been something magical in that golden fizzy prosecco she was drinking, because she scooted a little closer to them. 

And rested her cheek on Lilith’s shoulder.  

Lilith held their breath. Their stomach was sore, an aching pressure building beneath their abs, and they kind of wanted to shift into a position that was less constricting, but they couldn’t move. Not now. Nadja’s head was still on their shoulder when everything quietened down and, with no more distractions, focused on the movie. 

Rex had shimmied herself onto her side on the bean bag, her arm curled under her head, and she very much looked like a woman who wouldn’t be conscious two minutes from now. Oli stretched out her legs and sank low in the armchair, hands folded over her stomach, eyelids heavy. The fairy lights twinkled, sending gentle flashes of colour through the room. 

Lilith remembered that they still had eggnog left. They slowly reached for it, and sank a little lower in the couch as they returned. They also used their free hand to guide Nadja back to their shoulder. She hummed sleepily and complied. 

The two of them used to hug and cuddle lot when they were little. They’d spent more nights sharing a bed than not. Lilith wished they could say that they couldn’t remember when all of that had stopped, but that would have been a lie. 

Their stomach churned as they swallowed a mouthful of eggnog. At this point, it was more like drinking room-temperature ice cream that had melted to the consistency of a milkshake, which in itself was a delightful treat and a welcome distraction from the sheer fucking guilt that settled over them every time they thought about how they’d been gifted with magic and Nadja had been given the short straw. 

Lilith watched over the edge of their mug as Jamie Lee Curtis fought for her life over a Christmas ham. Ugh. Just thinking about ham brought the salty taste of it rushing to their mouth, even while their tongue was drenched in custardy bliss. How could they have eaten and drank so much that day, and yet still be able to make out individual flavours from food they’d eaten hours ago?  

Lilith let out an involuntary groan.  

Nadja tilted her head up, and Oli looked over from the armchair. No sign of movement from Rex, which either meant she hadn’t heard, or had fallen asleep in a pile on the beanbag. 

“Would you shut up about your stupid stomach?” Nadja complained, straightening up and stretching her arms out in front of her. 

“I didn’t say anything,” Lilith whispered. 

“What did you expect to happen?” Apparently, Rex hadn’t fallen asleep, because she propped her head up, digging an elbow into the beanbag.  

Lilith gasped in mock outrage. “Excuse me. You’re one to talk over there.” 

“I stopped eating when I was full!” Rex pointed out. “You’ve had three huge mugs of what is essentially a liquid dessert, and now it’s all just sloshing and swirling around in there –” 

“No.” Lilith splayed a hand on their belly to stop it shaking while they laughed. “Stop describing it. I can feel it.” 

“Sloshing,” Oli agreed from the armchair, teasing the word out, “and churning –” 

Lilith twisted slightly to rest their head on Nadja’s shoulder, but where Lilith had melted when she’d done it to them, she stiffened.  

“Do not puke on my Christmas clothes,” was all Nadja had to say. 

“Okay,” Lilith sighed miserably, slumping away from her. 

“Rex, I’m going to need to get a closer look at those nails.” 

There was some shuffling around as Rex got up from the beanbag, swapping places with Oli so she could sit in the armchair and let Nadja examine her snowflake nails across the armrests. 

“So cool,” Nadja said softly. “I didn’t know you could use magic to make things pretty.” 

As Lilith expected her to, Rex flinched from the slightest possibility of being praised. “People don’t usually need it to make things pretty. If I was a more creative person, I wouldn’t need magic to make something like this.” 

“You still had to have the vision to make it,” Nadja pointed out. 

Lilith smiled to themself. 

“And what are you talking about? You have a homeware line and a jewellery line!” Nadja exclaimed. “You’re probably the most creative person I’ve ever met.” 

Rex inclined her head. She reached out to the side, seeking Oli’s hand. “Well, I wouldn’t be able to make any of my designs real if it weren’t for this one.” 

Oli took the offered hand and rested her cheek against it, but her focus was entirely on Nadja. 

“What do you do, Nadja?” 

“Me? I work for a non-profit. Um... It’s a lot of spreadsheets and numbers and emails. I – I studied accounting in university, so...” 

“No kidding,” Oli chimed in. “You like numbers?” 

“I do! But, um, I’m trying to find a new job. There’s this guy… this man I dated, even though we work together. Um, anyway, it didn’t work out, so now it’s just…” 

Lilith blinked. They felt a surge of sickness in their stomach, so strong that their mouth watered. Stephen… Stephen worked at the same non-profit as Nadja? The two of them had dated for over a year. How had Lilith not known that they worked in the same place? 

Probably because even when they were Lilith the Sibling, they never really stopped being Lilith the Witch, Lilith the Warrior, Lilith the Agent – 

As quietly as they could, Lilith twisted so that they could rest their cheek on the back of the couch. They hugged a cushion shaped like a gingerbread man to their stomach. 

“Seeing him every day is –” 

A sharp, rolling cramp made Lilith wince, but they bit back the urge to groan.  

“It’s just – it’s been hard. And I just want out of there.” 

“Something new will come along,” Oli said brightly. “And if you ever need any C.V. help, I’m your girl.” 

“That would be so helpful. Thank you.” There was a little pause, only movie noises, for a couple of seconds. “I think Lilith’s out.” 

Lilith hadn’t realised they’d closed their eyes until they heard that. After laying down the dual swords of Lilith the Friend and Lilith the Sibling, it turned out that they were just...

Exhausted.

Despite the speculation, they weren’t even close to sleep, and probably wouldn't be for hours. But sinking down into the softness of the couch, listening to their friends chatting, feeling how warm and full their stomach was, was far easier than fighting any of it. 

And Lilith was so, so sick of fighting. 

“And I thought I’d be the first one to go,” Rex whispered with a giggle. “I’m getting some more prosecco. Anybody want some?”