#and cook and bake and put up a small tree

[neiptune]

if you celebrate christmas i hope you're having the best time and sparkly decorations and ignited fireplaces and cozy blankets and ugly sweaters and family reunions and good movies and yummy cookies (feel free to send a pic of your tree i love peeking)

if this is a rough time, please know i'm thinking of you! the holidays can be cold and lonely and waiting for this whole season to be over can be a pain in the ass but it's not gonna last forever & remember, you are loved. plus, you can still bake yourself yummy cookies 🍪

[wardenparker]

Baked in Soulmates

Pero Tovar x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 14.5k Warnings: Fluff, random historical factoids, flirting, grumpy-sunshine dynamic, discussion of past lovers/lives, talking about sex, food/alcohol consumption, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex. Summary: After having a premonition about him many decades ago, Peor Tovar finally walks into your bakery and turns your world inside out. Notes: Inspired by and based upon The Smell of Fresh Bread - a Writer Wednesday that Keri did some time ago, which has long been one of my favorite Pero pieces ever. It's a great way to bring Spooktober to an end! 🧡 As always, I apologize for any errors I might have missed in proofreading.

It was a rare day that saw you sitting at the table in the staff sitting room with nothing to do, and today unfortunately was no exception. While the cook took her time with the menus and the pantry and fussing at the scullery maids, you put in the long and diligent hours of a baker all for the benefit of this one great house.

It worked well for you, or at least it had in the past, to come into a large house like this and cook here for as many years as you can remain inconspicuous before finding an excuse to move on. It's easier that way. There are fewer explanations to give.

At least in this house there are more like you.

Kneading the dough for buns that will be studded with dried fruit and candied peel to be slathered with butter at tea, you hum quietly to yourself and focus on the rhythm of the work. Baking has been your steady companion through every lifetime you've lived and every country you've passed through, keeping you steady even when your magic became erratic or the treacherous uphill march of immortality weighed too heavily on your shoulders. A soft hum and the steady pace of kneading dough will keep you moving forward. They always have before.

“Ohhhh they are wanting their tea early.” Sally comes bursting into the kitchen, flustered and annoyed. “They are wanting it at three instead of four.” She huffs as she rushes over to the large cabinet. “And the mister wants another cup of coffee now that he has let the last one get too cold.”

"And he'll not perish during the five minutes that it takes to make," you hum pleasantly, not looking up from your work. The young housemaid seems always to be in a tizzy and you're far too old at this point to get worked up about anything so generally small. "Tea at three is just fine. Everything will be ready in time."

“Are you sure?” She hates when they change things around, believing that the house should run like a clock and it shouldn’t change.

"I will work a little faster, that is all." And there may be a dash of magic in the teacakes if necessary, just to make sure they rise in time. The family need never know.

“You are magical.” She heaves a sigh of relief, always put at ease by your unflappability. “It is always when he decides to come home.”

“If I had a shilling for every time a man made plans needlessly complicated, I would be rich as Croesus,” you hum, almost dismissively, but laugh to put Sally at ease. The fact is, you are fairly rich. But the wealth accumulated over centuries of immortality must be carefully parceled out. “There is no need to get worked up just because the master is in a tizzy.”

“You are right.” She sighs again and rolls her shoulders as she waits for the pot to boil. “As you usually are.”

“With age comes wisdom, my dear.” Though you look no older than thirty, the young housemaid has no idea how much wisdom you truly have.

“I suppose that is true.” She huffs slightly and starts to set up the sugar and milk for the coffee.

Down the hall, the servants’ door opens, letting in a gust of autumn wind that carries the scent of crisp leaves and the apple trees in the garden. It wafts in the scent of the wood fire from the next room over and picking up the muted notes of lingering from the cup of tea you had made for yourself which is now growing cold on the work table nearby.

It also carries, somehow, the crisp, atmospheric smell of stardust.

And within seconds your mind is engulfed with entirely another scene altogether.

Cardamom, cinnamon and rosemary scent the air along with the yeasty smell of fresh bread. A man opens the door. Dark, scarred with eyes that are brooding and seemingly holding a thousand years worth of secrets. Even in the unfamiliar and very informal dress, his stance is one of a solider. This is a man who has seen war and is on guard from unseen enemies lurking around every corner. Dark hair, short and practical, is unstyled and accompanied by facial hair that is not in fashion during this time. “Buenas—”

An entirely different, sharp and acidic, unpleasant smell pulls you from the vision. In just a moment you've gone from standing at your work table to lying on the stone floor of the kitchen, with Sally wailing and fretting in the background and the caretaker kneeling over you with a stern frown painted on his face.

Smelling salts have been useful for centuries, but that does not mean the smell of them has improved any.

"I'm alright." Your voice is hoarse though, and weak, and the man looks less than impressed. Under the cover of Sally's wails, you are able to murmur the truth to the warlock surveying you for injury. "It was a vision. I'm alright."

“A vision?” He frowns and helps you sit up. “Do you need to go to your room to write it down?” He asks quietly.

"I ought to." You nod, scrubbing your temples with your fingers and feeling them sticky against your skin. "But the dough..." That dough needs to be finished kneading and rested if tea is going to be served early today.

“I can finish it.” You have shown him how many times and he knows how important it is to write down specifics while they are fresh in your mind.

"Cover it in the bowl and put it by the stove when you're done?" It's no small thing to offer to finish your chore for you, and you're grateful for the kindness. "I'll just go and freshen up," you say a little louder, hoping to quell some of Sally's vocal worrying with reassurance.

Helping you to your feet, he snorts and waves Sally away. “Take the coffee where it belongs.” He orders, even though he had no authority in the house, he is tired of listening to her caterwauling.

“Thank you.” Touching his arm gently, you give the man a nod. “I’ll be back in a few moments.”

Smirking slightly, he sweeps his cap off his head and bows. “Anything for you, my lady.” He intones playfully and winks at you before turning to take an extra apron off the hook and wash his hands.

******

Life in that house was good. The family was reasonably kind, they paid as well as they could, and the company you had kept then was amiable. The caretaker had been kind enough and gentle enough that when he had confessed love for you, you had gone to his arms and to his bed for more years than you had expected. But as always, you had needed to move on.

Sometime in the early 1950s you had made it back to America for the second time, and found work in a bakery in the North End of the city run by an Italian family. The focaccia you made there was different than the type the cobbler's wife in Rome had taught you to make, but only out of necessity. That cobbler's wife and that Rome were nearly six hundred years gone by then.

Here, you told the family employing you that you were a widow and supplied stories of the caretaker whenever pressed for details of your late husband. They assumed that he had died in the war. You did not contradict them.

And then one day the scent of warm spices and a new vision of the dark man with his scared eye came to you, and you learned his name.

Pero Tovar.

******

The bell above the door tinkles, letting you know that someone has come in. A necessity when you are so often in the back with your ovens. “Buenas Dias.” Pero has learned that manners are necessary in this time, if you want to have people not refuse your coin. Even if it is a small plastic card. “I need a loaf of whatever smells so good.” He grunts, slapping his card down on the counter, belly rumbling.

The visions had not many sense for many years. Of course the familiarity of a bakery was something you could understand. A customer. A sale. But the little rectangle in his hand did not begin to make sense until plastic and credit cards became realities. But all the visions of your past had eventually come true, so the faith you have in your magic had brought you to today. To the loaves of bread leaving your oven and being set lovingly on wire racks. The lingering, mingling smells of cardamom, cinnamon, rosemary, and yeast mixing with autumn air and your customary tea.

To the man walking through the door of your shop.

The loaf you had handed him in your second vision was what most bakers called artisan now. An old world thing with wheat germ and oats and none of the processed white flour that was most popular in the modern world. This was bread that smelled of dirt-floored cottages and honey – more precious than gold – being stored in clay pots and bargained over. This bread smells of home, and through your vision you had felt the same would be true for him.

So you took it from your racks and savored the scent, placing it on a trencher with jam and butter, and handed it to him to enjoy. When he tried to pay, you only gently refused. "For you, Pero Tovar, there is no charge." You tell him, enjoying a private smile and his shock all at once. "Eat and remember."

“How do you know my name?” Pero had been drawn here by the smells of the past. The scent of time forgotten. Pulling from him the core memories that have almost been forgotten until they are recalled. Sitting unused and dusty like a book on an abandoned library shelf. In the time he came from, books were more rare than gold, now people carelessly toss them aside when they don’t care for the words written inside them.

"I have known your name for a long time." You can't say just how long. Not yet. There are still many things to learn about the man from your visions. "Sit," you encourage, nudging the plate toward him again. "Remember. Enjoy."

He doesn’t question you, he doesn’t attack you. Despite this time’s view on weapons, Pero still does not walk around unarmed. He could have a knife at your throat in an instant. Instead, he sits at a small table and tears apart the bread with his hands like he would have when he was on his first set of years.

It is a satisfying sight, you have to admit that much. Raw enthusiasm is in short supply in this modern age. To see someone devour the food that you prepare is an enormous part of why you have continued to bake century after century. In continues to be a challenge to feed all of the hungry people in the world, but you do your part. And this one man is included in that number.

For more than a century, this man's face has held a place in your mind, so you stop at his table to put a cup of coffee at his place as well. Let him enjoy himself, you think, and offer him a smile when you put down the mug.

Pero pauses, glancing up at you and then back down at the steaming cup of coffee. “Gracias.” He murmurs after a moment and picks it up. It doesn’t appear to have all the sweet creams and syrups that they have in this era and for some reason, he’s disappointed by that. Although it would be more than what he had drank when he was riding towards the East and selling his sword.

"Come back after sunset," you tell him, and walk away again to greet the new customers who have come through the door.

He frowns at the comment, wondering what he will need to come back for. How you know his name, he had checked his credit card. The name is on the back, so you didn’t get it from there. He is suspicious, but that just means he will come back.

******

It’s not that your shop strictly closes at sunset, but as the proprietor and only employee, you have the luxury of making your day what you like. From sunrise to sunset you sell breads and sweets and coffee and tea to your customers, and luxuriate in the ability to do as you please. If someone upsets you or is rude? You can simply turn them away. If they are kind and lovely? They can have their treats for free. The only person keeping track is you.

Tonight, like every night, you bundle up your unsold things to be picked up by the young lady who works for the village, and she distributes them amongst the poor and the hungry at night as she makes sure that each and every one has a roof over their head and a warm place to sleep. This, you have already decided, is the person from this life you will be leaving a great deal of money to when you must disappear and move on. You always choose one, and this time it will be her.

It is in this state, humming yourself as you load up paper bags with bread at the end of the day, that Pero Tovar finds you once more.

This time, the bell does not alert you to his presence, he had manage to slip inside without disturbing it. “How do you know my name?” He asks, watching as you look up from your task.

“Good evening, Señor Tovar,” you murmur politely, undisturbed and unperturbed when you look up.

It makes him frown even more when you aren’t surprised by his presence. “You seem to know me, but I would remember meeting you.”

“Would you?” That is what surprises you, and you look up to find him watching you carefully.

He doesn’t know what game you are playing, but he is starting to get frustrated. “Who are you?” He demands again.

You supply your first name easily enough, and finish depositing the bread loaves and sweets into bags. Everything except the small white cardboard box on your counter. That is marked with his name and tied up in string. “I’m like you are.” You tell him calmly.

He highly doubts that. “A bastard?” He snorts, purposefully misunderstanding. “You seem too sweet for that.”

“Actually?” You chuckle a little. “Yes. I am. But I meant that I am older than I look. As you are.”

"I'm thirty-eight." At least that's what it says on his driver's license. This lifetime at least. "Do you think you know me from somewhere?" He demands, wondering what you are playing at.

“I would sooner believe you to be five hundred and thirty-eight.” Your visions never specified too much about him, but the aura of magic he held around him had some of the same hallmarks as yours. Namely, enchantments and immortality. “We have never met, but I have seen you before.”

His jaw tightens and Pero growls dangerously, stepping closer to you. "You are mad, witch." He hisses, shaken to his very core that you might know of his plight even though he much older than your claim.

“Perhaps.” You actually laugh a little. “But at least you are right about one thing. I am a witch.”

That confuses him, making him furrow his brow together and frown. Looking around the kitchen to see if there something to explain all of this.

“Come and sit down.” That feels like the right thing to do, and you motion to one of the tables close by. “If you would like me to, I will tell you what I know.”

He watches you for a moment, gauging you before he moves over to the table and pulls out a chair and sits.

"You know that magic is real." Coming to sit down with him, you bring two cups of coffee to give you both something to do with your hands. He had frowned at his cup earlier when you set it down, so this time you had added a touch of caramel and vanilla to the hot steamed milk to see if he liked that better. "We have both been touched by it in different ways. But both of us have been given immortality. Whether that is a blessing or a curse depends on the day."

“How old are you?” He demands after a moment, leaning over and staring at you with an intensity that would make a mere mortal uneasy.

"That would be a rude question to ask a lady in any century, but fortunately for you it is a moot point." An amused smile curls your lips as you sit back and sip your coffee. "I do not know. When I was born they did not keep track of birthdays so studiously."

“What is the earliest century you remember?” He asks instead, aware that it is only because of his own parents he had been aware of his age before his trip to the Wall.

Thinking back as much as you can, you sip your coffee in silent thought for long moments before finally being able to answer. "I remember the news that Charlamagne had been crowned emperor." You tell him. "I was a child, and a messenger came to our village. But life went on as usual, unaffected by the change in man who supposedly ruled us."

“How did you come to live this long then?” You are older than he is, but a good four hundred years. His eyes are wide and curious, never meeting another than has been cursed with walking the earth without end.

"I tended to a dying witch," you tell him, sitting forward again at the table with your cup in your hands. "She was very powerful. The woman who taught us all and who raised us up to the goddess. It was an honor to tend to her even in her painful last moments. And she blessed each of us with a gift. The other girls were older than me. One she wished eternal kindness on, that she and her family would always be good to each other. To the other she gave an endless curiosity of spirit. That girl died within the year from eating things she should not, which I do not think was the intention of the gift." You shrug slightly, having thought of these other girls so often that it no longer brings you sadness to think of them so long ago. "When it came time to give me a blessing, she was in the throes of more pain, and she wished to the goddess that I should never know the pain of death that she endured in that moment."

“So you never find the peace of eternal slumber.” Pero leans back, still confused as to how you could have known about him. His own existence is a curiosity that he has never been able to explain despite the theories. Witches no longer hold the same fear that they might have centuries ago. He has seen too many gods and people fall through the ages.

“I understand it is possible.” But you shrug your shoulders. “But it would require enchanted items that seem to no longer exist.”

Pero nods. “So how do you know about me?” He asks. “Have you been watching me?” He thought he had been more careful. It was hard to cover his tracks with the scar on his face, but he had used prosthetics a few of the lives he has lived and explains the scarring away as the boons of war. He had tried hard to keep from being photographed, but now it was impossible.

"No." You sip your coffee again and nudge his cup toward him, encouraging him to do the same. "I have visions. And I had some of you."

“Visions?” In his entire life, Pero Tovar has never had a vision. He has memories, often coming to him while he sleeps in the form of dreams - or nightmares, but never visions. He picks up the cup and examines it for a moment before taking a sip and his eyes light up in delight at the sweetness.

Sweet things for this man, apparently. That will be easy enough to achieve. "My senses tingle. Smells become more acute and I can hear the songs in the wind. Then my mind's eye fogs over and I see..." Describing this is easier now, since the advent of new technologies. "As though I were watching a film, made from my own point of view. I see the future."

“So you saw me walk into your shop.” Pero reasons. “Any knowing my name?”

"The older I get, the more intense my visions are," you explain. "Centuries ago, they were more frequent and far less detailed. Now? I will rarely have more than one every few decades. But they are much more intense. More detailed. They instill knowledge in me instead of simply showing me an image."

Pero cannot say that he would envy a gift like that. It would put him on edge more than he normally is. “Why would you have visions of me?” He questions that part, taking another sip of his coffee.

“That,” you tell him, having the last sip of your coffee. “Is what I do not know.”

Your answer simultaneously makes him unease and relaxes him at the same time. Unsure of why he believes you, but he does. “I don’t know why I still walk the earth.” He admits quietly. “I had long believed it to be because of the Tao Tei, but no one else from those battles still roam.”

“Tao Tei?” The term isn’t one you’re familiar with, which is surprising. You’re familiar with quite a lot.

He looks out the window the modern streets and huffs to himself slightly. “Demons, aliens, monsters.” He shakes his head. “I still don’t know exactly what they are, but they were ferocious.”

“So they were creatures.” At that, you nod again and lean forward on the table. “That is most likely why I have not heard of them. Unless you can eat them or milk them I have had little interest. My many lifetimes have been spent mostly in a bustling kitchen.”

"They were in the far East. The Nameless order worked hard to keep word of them from spreading." Pero explains. "It is not like now. The word traveled so much slower than now."

“I miss it,” you admit without shame. “Things are so fleeting these days.”

"Some days I would have talked to no one but my horse.” Pero snorts, “now having a horse is rare.”

“I do like my bicycle.” That makes you grin. The bicycle you had bought while living in Boston in the 1950s is vintage now, but you learned to repair and care for it yourself. The basket on the front was long ago replaced with one of your own making as well. “But horses are wonderful companions.”

"So you have just been waiting for me to show up?" He asks, still trying to wrap his head around the idea that you know him. Even if this is the first real conversation you have had.

“More or less.” You agree. “Since 1909. Or really, since I bought this shop. I walked in the front door here about ten years ago and realized it was the bakery from the visions, so I got a job here and bought it when the previous owners decided to retire.”

He nods and looks around. “Looks like it is a nice place to live one of the many lives we experience.” He compliments. “Have you always been a baker?”

"Most of the time." He is entirely right. The two of you have lived countless lifetimes. Endless choices of where to go and who to be. But you have mostly kept to what makes you happy. "In different parts of the world, in different ways, and always learning new things. Have you always been a warrior?"

“Always.” He nods. “Although it is harder to do these days.” He admits. “Private security is more about using technology now than brute skill.”

"I imagine your sword is in far less demand these days." In fact you can't think of a single way he could use it outside of sport and discipline, which is a shame. A talented swordsman is a gloriously indulgent sight to watch. "Have you tried any of the new martial arts?"

He sighs, “all of them.” He admits. “But the MMA shit is boring.”

"Pobrecito," you tease, chuckling a little at his dismay. "You should fight fires, then. Use your strength and immortality for something valiant. Just to try it out."

“Fires.” He snorts and shakes his head. “I will scare the little girls hiding under their beds while the wallpaper burns.”

"Or inspire beautiful women to open their legs in gratitude." Standing from the table, you take the two empty coffee cups and round the nearby counter to rinse them and set them in the dishwasher.

“I have not taken a wife in many years.” Pero admits, looking down at his hands. “I do not wish to bury another.”

"Surely that does not mean you cannot enjoy a warm bed from time to time?" When you reemerge from behind the counter, you sit down again, sensing that there is plenty more talk to be had. "The last time I married was 1810, but that has not kept me from pleasure."

He chuckles. “I did not say that.” You have a modern take for one so old, but he doesn’t mind that. “It is hard to not feel dirty.” He snorts. “They are all so young.”

"Well that is true enough." And well worth sharing a laugh over. For there are very few in the world as old as the two of you. "There is not much to be done about an equal age, though. The community of immortals in the world is quite small, and always on the move. For reasons you understand all too well."

“Community?” Pero frowns, his head jerking up and he looks at you in confusion. “There are more?”

"I have met thirteen others, over the centuries." You tell him, nodding. "Mostly witches or warlocks, but also some who were enchanted at random, like you were. Mostly we acknowledge each other, share a few stories, and then go our separate ways."

“You are the first I have met.” Pero tells you. “I have always believed I was alone.” It had been a lonely existence, but he had felt like it was his punishment, or reward, for what happened at that wall. Although he could never explain why William lived out his life as expected and died an old man.

"There are many theories. About what could eventually kill us, or what can weaken us." Theories that you had been over time and time again with the few other immortals that you had come across. "Apparently it is possible for us to die. But...not easy."

“You mean being stabbed, blown up, crashing, or drowning would not do it?” He asks sarcastically, ticking off the ways he should have died many times over. He had come out with little more than a scratch.

"Apparently." Your head cocks to one side, wondering how he will take this. "It is more like a fairy story. Where true love restores us to our mortality."

Pero chuckles. “I have loved many times, bruja.” He reminds you. “Yet there is still no grey in my hair or beard.”

"True love." You correct him. "Not just love. I have loved more times than I can count. Endless, depths of the oceans of love. But supposedly the truest love our hearts can feel...that is what is supposed to do it."

Pero frowns, digesting your words and trying to understand them. “You are speaking of soulmates.” He murmurs. “Those do not exist.”

"Until today, you believed you were the lone immortal in the world." The reminder is stark, but not unkind. "Who is to say soulmates do not also exist?"

Pero sighs and nods, having to concede that fact. “You are right.” He grunts. “But if I had not found them in nine hundred years, then I fear I have none.” He smirks and huffs to himself. “My soul is long rotten.”

"Perhaps. Or perhaps not." There is really no way to know. No way to open up one's heart or soul and read the name written there in destiny's hand. "I suppose we can only wait and see."

He shakes his head and stands. “Then I guess that your vision has been fulfilled.” He feels oddly disheartened by that, but his face is set.

"Has it?" You do not rise from your seat, but watch him intently. "My vision could have had any of ten thousand meanings. But all I know is that we were destined to meet. I should hate for it to only be one time."

“Perhaps it will not be.” Pero nods to you and then glances at the door. “The darkness settles.” He reminds you. “You should go home, bruja.”

"Come again at closing time, if you would like to talk more." This time you do rise from the table. There are bags to gather and things to distribute to the needy. "I am always here. In this lifetime, anyway."

Pero nods and he’s unsure if he should offer to walk you home, but he reasons that you have been taking care of yourself for far longer than any other woman walking alone at night. “Gracias.” He murmurs before he disappears through the door as silently as he came.

“Buenas noches,” you murmur to his back, watching the swift and sleek way he retreats. Pero Tovar must have been an admirable opponent in his warring days.

*****

It takes an entire week for Pero to come back. He had been purposely avoiding that side of the village so he didn’t drop in. Doing research and trying to learn everything he can about you. Your digital footprint is good and the way you have set up your ‘lives’ is admirable. Now he wants to talk to you again.

His stealth is admirable, but you catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye as you wipe down the counters. The last guest has left for the night and the village girl has come and gone for the bags of leftovers already. “Good evening, Pero Tovar.”

He almost asks how you knew he was here, but he doesn’t. Instead, he steps closer to you. “You have lived under the radar.” He says. “It was hard to find your trail at first.”

“But you have been successful now?” Finishing up your cleaning, you take your apron off and toss it in the small hamper you keep under the counter to accumulate washing. Every few days you take your towels and aprons home from the bakery to wash and dry at home. The ritual is soothing.

“As far back as 1841.” He admits. “The trail is harder to follow any farther back. Records are not as good from before as they are now.”

"1841..." You think back, trying to remember where you were an who you were then. "That was...Greece, wasn't it? Did you find employment records from the hotel?"

“Your marriage record.” Pero shakes his head. “But before then, it seems like you had just arrived from somewhere else.”

"From here," you tell him, smiling nostalgically. "From Spain. I was living in a fishing village on the Portuguese border. I met a Greek merchant who begged me to come away with him and..." Trailing off, you shrug your shoulders a little but never stop smiling. "It sounded like a grand, romantic adventure. Cristos was a good man, and I worked at a hotel in the islands for a long time."

Your voice takes on a soft, dreamy quality and for a moment, Pero is jealous of the Cristos you speak of. It must have been a grand romance. “I was in America during that time.”

"Oh?" You're interested in anything he is willing to share about himself. Unlike him, you did not go digging into his past. More hopeful that he would return to share with you when he was ready. "What did you do there?"

“Went west.” He had found the rough and Wild West fascinating and had enjoyed the hard journey. Remembering vividly blazing that trail to the East, so it was only fitting that he also went West.

"You were a cowboy." That image of him is actually fairly charming, morphing the smile on your lips slightly but not at all dimming it. "It must have been easy to blend in. With so many Spanish speakers all over the west back then."

“The language has changed so much over the years.” He snorts, knowing you are well aware of that fact. “There were a lot of Germans there too.”

"Did you sell your sword there as well?" It would have been guns by that point, far more often than swords, but your question is the same. Was he a warrior in that time too?

“Homesteader.” Pero shakes his head. “Started a ranch. But there was plenty of gunfights.”

"You actually settled down?" That surprises you, but you nod. It's impressive that a man so restless seems to have found moments of tranquility in this long life. "That must have been a welcome change."

“It was nice.” Pero frowns slightly, remembering the last wife he had taken. He had buried her on that ranch. Her and the baby who had also died in childbirth. “It wasn’t going to last though.”

"Not everything does," you say, but before you can stop yourself, you chuckle a little. "Except us."

“The only good thing is that I’ve not started aching like people complain about as they grow old.” Pero rolls his eyes. “Besides the normal middle-aged aches.”

You laugh again. "I count it as one of my truest blessings that I was given my immortality before the aches and pains set in."

“And that bone cracking doctor is amazing.” Pero groans, rolling his eyes slightly. “In my original time, he would have had all the riches in the world riding with a group.”

"A chiropractor?" Once again, your laugh rings through the shop. He is straight forward and honest, despite being suspicious and grumpy, and it makes you smile unexpectedly. "I would not have thought of that myself, but you're perfectly right."

He likes the sound of your laugh, his own grin quick and broad before his face slides back into that normally fearsome set. “I know I am.”

Letting your laughter linger in the air, you lean on the counter between you and consider him. The things you have wondered in the last week - and in the century before that - are running wild in your mind again. "I'm glad you came back."

“Not sure why.” He steps closer and tilts his head. “For you or for me.”

“Handsome and hungry,” you tell him with another laugh. “That’s my favorite kind of man.”

He lifts a brow, surprised that you would find him handsome. “Your bread is very good.” He admits. “I might have dreamed about it.”

“If you think my bread is good,” you hum, tucking a pleased smile into the corner of your mouth. “You should try my pastries.”

He glances towards the empty cases. “I will have to try them sometime.” He is hungry, but it seems like that has something that has never gone away despite the availability of food now compared to in the past.

“Or…” Noticing the expression on his lips and the hunger in his eyes, you tilt your head. “Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I was going to find food and I ended up here.” He had been trying to avoid coming to you for another day, but his feet had other ideas.

“We could…eat together?”

He obviously hadn’t thought about that, but it doesn’t sound bad. Often he eat alone and it would be nice to have someone sitting across from him. Perhaps a beautiful woman would help others not be so wary of him.

“Tovar?” Brooding and silent seems to be his way, but you asked a question that deserves an answer.

“What?” He frowns in confusion and realizes that he has not answered you. “Sí.” He nods. “Yes. What do you want to eat?”

“Do you like seafood?” You had made friends with a family that runs a restaurant on the nearby cliff overlooking the ocean. It is beautiful and the food is stunning. “I know a place.”

“I like food.” Pero jokes dryly, smirking slightly when you grin.

“We can walk.” Motioning toward the door, you excuse yourself for just long enough to disappear, grab your purse, and reappear again.

Pero watches as you step outside the shop after him and carefully locks up. Silently guarding you even though he’s not needed in that capacity.

“Down to the cliffs.” You tell him, wondering if he is accompanying you out of curiosity or out of boredom. Either way, it’s at least nice to spend time with someone like you. “This way.” Almost as soon as you say it, you head out through the village streets toward the promise of a warm meal and a cold drink.

Pero isn’t familiar with the town, if he’s honest. He doesn’t explore much, but he watches as you confidently saunter off down the road.

The walk takes only a few minutes, but when you arrive it is to the comforting smells of fresh food and the warmth of friendly smiles. You ask to be seated outside, enjoying the last sunset and thanking the owner when she lights the candle on your table to ward off the nighttime despite there being plenty of other light sources nearby. Your table on the edge of the patio is away from the others, giving you privacy to talk, and you have a feeling the owner might have mistakenly believed you to be on a date this evening.

Pero chooses the seat that gives him the view of the patio and anyone approaching, but he’s not so unmannered that he doesn’t pull out your chair for you, even if he doesn’t wait for you to sit to walk around to his own.

“The women these days must think you’re very gallant.” Gallant and grumpy, you think to yourself, smiling again. That is surely how his latest conquests describe him.

He rolls his eyes and huffs as he sits down, watching the movement behind you before he picks up the napkin and drops it in his lap. “Don’t know.” He admits. “I never ask.”

“Not out for romantic companionship in this lifetime?” Even if it’s not marriage, having a companion is always possible.

"I've had one." Pero shrugs slightly. "She wanted kids and I cannot give them to her."

“Cannot or will not?” It is a bold question, you admit, but immortality does not take away a person’s ability to have children. Not as far as you know, anyway.

"It is the same answer." Pero shrugs. "I would not want to watch my child grow old and die. I could not bear it. Not after losing -" He sighs. "It is better that I not populate the earth."

“People like us…we lose everyone eventually.” That is an unavoidable truth, though also undesirable. “I’m sorry for the ones you lost.”

"You have lost others too." He points out, glancing at the waiter when he pours out wine and he lifts a brow. "Come here enough they know what you drink?" He asks you.

“Yes.” There is no shame in that, and you thank the waiter with a smile. “Do you know what you want to eat?” You ask Pero, though neither of you has looked at the menu very much.

"Food." He snorts, and looks around at the other tables as if he can just pick something from their plates that looks good. "What do you get?"

“Either the grilled octopus or the spicy bacalao.” Over the centuries you have tried almost every kind of food possible. Seafood dishes truly are some of your favourites, though. “Or scallops. Really, everything is good here.”

He grunts and nods. “Sounds good.” He does open the menu to read through the options. It’s amusing that when he was riding with William, he could not read, now he reads in multiple languages. Including Chinese. Knowing the language would have been helpful back then.

The waiter departs to give you time to decide, and when he returns a few minutes later you order your usual octopus and Pero opts for a prawns dish that sounded good to him. It leaves you alone together again at your table to look out over the ocean and you sigh happily at the comforting scent of salt air.

You like it here, that is obvious and Pero stares as you unabashedly, curious to your thoughts.

"What is it you want to ask me?" There must be something. You are no longer so insecure that you would be confused as to why a man would stare at you. There is nothing on your face. No food stuck in your teeth. He is simply curious.

“You do not feel it?” Pero asks finally, unable to refrain. “You seem so relaxed.”

"I do feel relaxed," you agree, smiling as the wind wraps around your shoulders. A hug from the earth that you happily appreciate. "People and places come and go, but the wind and the ocean? They are as permanent as we are."

Pero frowns and leans back, unable to understand why you would not feel it. He looks around and sighs before he picks up his wine glass.

"You pout when you don't get your way." The observation makes you hum in amusement. In some ways even this man with his hundreds of years is still very much a boy. "What ought I to be feeling, Tovar?"

“I do not pout.” He grumbles. “You really do not feel the vibration in the air? The pull?” He doesn’t understand it, but he does feel it. He’s drawn to you. “It feels like the air is dancing right now.” It makes him uneasy because the only time he’s ever felt that was when he was in danger but there is no danger here. Confusing him even more.

"Like...electricity." You nod slightly, but tilt your head slightly as you look at him. "I thought that was simply my magic. But if you can feel it too..." Truthfully, you had thought it was your magic's response to your intense attraction to him. But if he can feel it too, it must be much more than that.

“So you do feel it?” He leans in, eyes wide. “It is your magic then? You are that powerful? You pulled me to you?”

"If it is my magic..." Shifting forward in your seat slightly lets you talk a little more freely. Even at a table that is slightly isolated you have lived through too many witch hunts to simply go around shouting about magic. "Then it is doing something I have never felt before."

That makes him frown even more. If you don’t know what it is doing, he has no hope of having the question answered. “If?” He catches that. “What else could it be?”

"Are you sure you want the answer to that?" He will not believe you, you can predict that now. That the other thing you could liken this feeling to is one that was described to you three centuries ago by a couple in the islands of the Caribbean.

He rolls his eyes and purses his lips. “I wouldn’t have asked the question.” He reminds you.

"Fine then." You wave one hand as if to say he asked for it. "I have heard of this sensation once before. Centuries ago. From a pair of soulmates."

Brows pulling together, he takes his time to connect what you are saying. Then the dark orbs are blowing wide and he jerks back to look around quickly again. “You are saying—?”

"It is possible." Anything in the world is possible, after all. Long life has taught you that. "But I do not suggest we go testing the theory by getting into danger."

“What does danger have to do with soulmates?” He asks, frowning again.

"The chance that immortals bonding with their soulmates restores their mortality is...very high," you remind him quietly.

Clarity shines in his eyes and he leans back again. “But we don’t know if that’s what it is.” He hums, picking up his wine again. “We will not test it though.”

"Two meetings do not constitute a connection." And that is all you have had, despite the fact that your vision had stretched over decades and you had dreamt many times of those things your magic revealed to you. "But I agree. We will not test it."

“Soulmates.” He whispers, as if he is trying it on. He looks over at you again and licks his lips. “How would we know? For certain?”

"There are a few tests – magical ones – that could be tried." Their origins all seem dubious to you, or they require ingredients for potions that are unavailable in this new and modern world. They are less than ideal. "Or there is a more...primal test."

“Primal test?” He wonders if it is some kind of blood ceremony or something.

You smirk, hearing in his voice that he expects you to say something deeply mystical or esoteric. "We could have sex," you clarify, pronouncing every syllable.

You are enjoying teasing him. He can tell, but his body is too busy agreeing with your suggestion to care. “We could.” He growls, hands curling on the table as his entire being shifts into something much more dangerous.

"You are interested." It doesn't even need to be a question. His body language makes that clear, and your lips turn up in a smile all over again. "Good."

“You are a beautiful woman.” He reminds you bluntly. “I am old, not dead. My cock still stirs.”

"I'm very glad to hear it." Feeling more confident and looking forward to the night, you shift in your seat to sit a bit taller and survey the man before you unabashedly. "It would be a pity to waste such an enticing man."

It has been a long time since a woman has called him enticing. Instead of preening, like the young boys seem to do now, he lets you look your fill.

"Are you the sort of man who needs to be in your own space?" It is now a negotiation of sorts, but you are happy to be able to study him while you talk and wait for your dinner.

He huffs, amused by that idea, and shakes his head. “I don’t know if I’ve ever had a space that I considered my own.” He points out. “We are both nomads.”

“True. But some people feel the need to exert control wherever possible.” Satisfied that he is not one of those men, you sit back again. “Think of it as asking ‘your place or mine’.”

“Your place.” He decides immediately. “If you want to kick me out, it’s easier.” He doesn’t also say that it will be later in the night and not safe for you to go home alone, not wanting to seem sexist.

“My place.” Your smile is crooked and calm, intrigued and anticipatory. “Good.”

He wonders why that is good, but he shrugs it off, his eyes shifting behind you to see the waiter bringing the food.

You give the waiter warm thanks when your plates are set down, and look back to Pero with interest as the two of you begin to eat. “Tell me a story,” you request, wanting to know more about the man now that you will be spending at least one night together. After all, he has never met anyone like you and you have never met anyone specifically like him. Who else could you share your life stories with in the same way?

Pero frowns slightly and decides that you should hear a story from his original lifeline. "There was this bastard I knew." He begins, the gruffness of his voice is belied by the glimmer of fond remembrance in his eyes. "William Garin. He was a pain in my ass. Getting me into scrapes and saving my ass on the battle field. But I saved his life more." He adds. "He heard about this mystical black powder the Chinese had. And he convinced me to go in search of it. The weapon of our dreams."

Garin is obviously not Spanish, nor is William, and the time spent as a warrior connects dots in your mind. Dots that most in this day and age would find unsavory, but you know better. Survival was harder back then. “You were mercenaries together?”

"Sí." He nods, happy that he does not have to explain every detail to you. "We had fought together for this lord and when he was done with us, we had managed to not kill each other, so we rode together."

“A friend you don’t wish to run through is exceptionally valuable when the sword is already in your hand.” Mercenaries were never long on friendships, as you recall. Which makes it doubly impressive that the men stayed together. “So you went to China together?”

"We collected a group of men." He continues, looking down at the wine and the water at his plate. "All of us desperate for the powder for our own selfish reasons, but we were foolish enough to believe that we could obtain it."

“Fools sometimes have great success,” you point out, sipping from your wine glass. “But I think your luck was not so good, judging from the expression on your face.”

"Twelve of us started out." He nods. "Two of us made it to the Wall."

“The Great Wall?” It is still great today and in nowhere near the splendorous condition that he must have seen it in then.

Pero nods. “Some were killed by bandits, some from disease.” He huffs. “One poor bastard broke his back when his horse fell on him.”

“An unfortunate fate for anyone, bannered soldier or freed lance.” You nod slightly, not wanting to make light of his brethren’s fate but knowing that happened to many.

“The last three died the night before we reached the wall.” He stares at his wine before he takes a large gulp of it. “Eaten by the Tao Tei, though we did not know that at the time. Ripped away from the fire in the blink of an eye while we were resting from running from bandits. Will and I survived together and he took the creatures hand when it had come for us.”

“What became of your brother?” It sounds like he was far more than simply a brother in arms. Pero is likely to have tracked his entire life and legacy.

“When we left the Wall, after the Tao Tei had been defeated, he left his heart behind.” Pero frowns slightly. “After three months, we turned back and he return to his general.”

It’s sweet, or perhaps bittersweet, but you off him a soft smile of understanding. Laced with curiosity, of course. “An unusual love, or an unusual general?” You ask gently.

“She was ferocious.” He chuckles, understanding your meaning and appreciating the tact. “She brought out a side of him I didn’t understand at the time.” He admits. “He was better because of her, the best version of himself.”

“That is what soulmates do, they say.” Satisfied that you haven’t offended him or the memory of his friend, you settle back into your meal. “Did you stay long with them?”

“Until their third child was born.” He hums. “It had become obvious to me that they were aging but for some reason I was not.” He frowns slightly. “I went to a monastery to search for answers and when I returned, my friend was on his deathbed, old and feeble.”

“You were there for his joys and returned to show him your love at the end.” That is honorable. Commendable, even. “That is more than many friends can say they have done.”

“He deserved it.” He shrugs as if it was not much. It was the least he could do in his mind after so many years. “After they were buried together, she had passed the year before, I started my path alone. Never meeting anyone like myself until now.”

"Perhaps it is a sign?" If he even believes in them. As likely as not, he thinks them child’s play.

“Perhaps.” He takes his wine and finishes the rest of it. “It has been a long time since I have seen any signs of anything beyond this existence.”

“I cannot claim to know anything of what lies beyond.” How could you? “But this life is valuable despite being infinite.”

“It is getting harder with technology.” He admits.

“Avoiding being photographed is difficult.” It is a hazard, if you’re honest, which is why you have stayed out of the big cities for decades. “I stay out of cities and tourist traps now. We have to be so careful.”

“Especially with my scar.” He gestures towards his face. “I have thought about surgery but who knows if it would work?”

You consider him carefully for a moment, letting a smirk turn up one corner of your lips. “It might be a pity to lose,” you tell him finally. “The effect is rather dashing.”

His brow lifts, the one affected by the scar and he hums. “You like a more….rugged appearance on a man, hermosa?”

“I do.” And you are old enough and have had enough lovers to know that you do have a preference. “It is not necessary, I would say. But certainly my preference.”

“Then I am pleasing to your eye?” He asks, smirking slightly. He might not be a vain man, but he does enjoy when a woman wants him.

Far be it from you to deny a truth, especially when it is one you have already confirmed. He has let you look your fill during this meal, after all. “I would not be taking you home with me if you were not,” you confirm, and let you smirk grow a little wider.

“Depended on how desperate you might be.” Pero jokes dryly. “Thought I do not believe you have had much trouble warming your bed over the centuries.”

“More than you might think,” you admit, but shrug. “I thank you for the compliment, though.”

“You are a beautiful woman.” He grunts. “Interesting too.”

“More compliments?” Your face blossoms into a teasing, playful grin. “Since I am sure you do not hand them out meaninglessly, I am even more glad.”

“Tell me about yourself.” He asks, wanting to know more about this witch who had known he was somehow coming into your life. “You ever been wrong with your visions?”

“In the early days.” You nod to that, willing to admit that you had needed much training to learn to wield your power effectively. “I have honed my skills. Learned how to tell when things are important. Listened to the way the visions sing to me. I have been wrong before, but not in many centuries.”

He nods. “And you knew that I would come to you, but not exactly when.”

“Because I do not presume to know everything from the visions anymore. Early on, we are so eager to know all. We cannot abide mystery. But now?” You wave one hand dismissively, picking up another forkful of your meal. “The universe will tell me what I am to know when it decides I am ready.”

“It is not like you do not possess the time.” He snorts, finding comfort in your ideology and he picks up his own fork. “Your bread is probably the best I have had in years.” He compliments. “I dreamed of it last night.”

“Is that all you dreamed of?” You doubt it, much to your own amusement, and are not ashamed of what your own dreams have consisted of since meeting the mercenary.

“No.” He admits easily, a ghost of a smirk pulling at his lips. “It was hardly decent.”

“Good.” The way your thighs clench in anticipation is no accident, but all he sees is the pleased expression on your face and perhaps the fire in your eyes. “Then it matched my own.”

“Then tell me what you want.” He demands. “I am sure you have expectations after being here so long and seeing how sex progresses.”

“We have both been here a very long time, Tovar,” you remind him with a wry chuckle. Your meal is finished and your wine as well, so you sit back in your seat and inhale the ocean breeze. “We will take pleasure in each other until we are exhausted, we will sleep curled in the same bed, and when we wake tomorrow we will indulge again if it pleases us to do so.”

“You are very sure of yourself.” He chuckles, not minding the idea of your evening at all. “It is a trait I admire in a woman.”

"If I was certain of myself, I would plan beyond tomorrow morning," you tell him, valuing honesty more than pretense in this moment. The meal is ending and the next steps you take together may change everything. That is what you are unsure of. "But I don't presume to know your mind. Only my own."

“You know it well.” Even though it would not be considered the newer custom of a date, Pero pulls out his wallet to pay for the meal you shared.

It's gentlemanly of him, and after hundreds of years walking this earth you have both accumulated fortune enough to always keep food in your bellies, so you simply thank him for the gesture. You will make him breakfast in the morning before he decides to be on his way, and that will be payment in kind. There is a sort of uncertainty in your bones about how this coupling will turn out – not because you doubt that you will find pleasure but because Tovar seems prone to run from anything he perceives as comfort.

Wiping his mouth one last time, Pero stands and he waits for you to get up as well. “Then let us go find our pleasure with each other.” He offers.

Your home, like everything else in this village, is close enough to walk to. There is no soft sweetness of hand holding or stolen looks, but instead a sort of comfort of knowing what is to come. He walks closer to the street, shielding you from anything that might splash or come too close. When you make it to your door, though, the air of anticipation seems to tighten around both of you and you suddenly become hyper aware of how close he is standing as you turn your key in the lock.

“You can change your mind.” It’s not that he is trying to get you to send him home, but he always prefers to know there is no doubts when he takes a woman to bed.

"I don't want to change my mind." You push open your front door and step back, letting him enter first if he wants to. "You can as well. If that is what you want."

“I would regret it for a thousand years if I left now.” Pero shakes his head and steps into your house.

"Considering we may well live that long, I would hate for you to live with that feeling." You step in behind him and close the door, deciding to throw the lock closed because he is a warrior of many lifetimes and will be on high alert if the house isn't secure.

He hums in approval, sure that after so many years walking this earth you can protect yourself, but no one openly invites the bear into their home. He looks around, finding your private space to be an extension of the bakery you run. Warm and inviting, although he recognizes the antiques that must be collections from your past lives.

"Look around if you like." Shedding your bag and jacket, you don't mind that the space is a little untidy and obviously lived in. This new fascination with making a home look as if no one lives in it is maddening. "Would you like another drink?"

"I am good." He declines as he start to poke around shamelessly. Picking up trinkets and examining them. If he had been the Pero from years ago, he would thinking of stealing from you. Now, he just admires them before setting them back down as he learns more about you from what you keep in your home.

"Do you have a favorite?" As he shuffles through the shelves and collections of keepsakes from your past lives, you smile softly to actually be able to share them with someone who understands.

“Why did you keep this?” The flower is dried, encased in resin and obviously of some importance to you.

"Because I promised the little girl that gave it to me that I would keep it forever." You tell him honestly, stepping into the living room to gaze on the dried wildflower bud. "When the plague came through the village we were in, almost everyone died. She could not have been more than ten years old, but I promised her I would nurse her parents while they died, and she gave me a flower in thanks before her grandmother took her and they fled the village together. The flower was for my kindness, and I took the promise that I made to her very seriously."

“Hopefully the girl had a good life.” It was doubtful, times were hard back then, but it was the best he could hope for anyone.

“Hopefully.” Not having been able to find her later on, you could not say for sure. But she was a sweet little girl and you liked to imagine she found happiness of some sort or other as a woman.

“Your home is very cozy.” The word sounds rough on his tongue, but you don’t seem to mind his gruffness.

"I see no reason not to surround myself with things that bring me joy." You extend your hand, wondering if he will take it and how that will finally feel. You have wondered about his touch for more than a hundred years. "That includes people."

Pero stares at your hand for a moment, then he reaches out. The scars on the back of his hands have faded over the millennia, but he can still see each one. He watches his fingers touch your palm and slide over your skin.

In modern times, they talk about electricity between people. Between a couple coming together. But in the centuries past that spark of new passion was always what happened before an all-consuming fire. The calluses on both of your hands seem to slide over each other with ease, letting your fingers lace together and making your breath catch in a way it hasn't in centuries.

And all at once desire seems to banish every other thought from your mind.

His eyes widen slightly, feeling tug deep in his belly, lighting a hunger in his loins that has long been dormant. Even though he had told himself he would let you control the pace of the night; he is dragging you close. Already obsessed with the next step that you would take. A kiss.

It’s as if you fuse together instantly, that kiss being the mere byproduct of your union into one being. Arms wrap around each other as fiercely tongues entwine, the kiss already deepened into something hungry and exploratory as soon as your lips met.

Once he’s tasted you, Pero is ravenous. Growling as he slides his tongue against yours and holds the back of your head, tilting you like the heroine in a romance novel. The need pouring through him into the flick of his tongue against yours and the groans he is feeding into you.

Every inch of your body is alight with need, and while the fingers of one hand sink into his hair to tug sharply as much as to keep him near, your other hand explores. His frame is even broader than you expected, shoulders and arms thick with corded muscle. You are pliant under every demand of his kiss, returning his moans with enthusiasm even as you start to blindly feel what lies ahead for your pleasure.

He does not know your little house, but he is learning your body. Caressing you with large, sweeping passes over your body. Listening for when your moans intensify. Wanting to memorize what brings you pleasure.

The little cottage only has one floor, though, making it easy to navigate blindly. You could not tear yourself from his embrace now even if you desired it — but the only thing you desire is to bring him with you as you slowly pull your intertwined bodies toward your bedroom.

He lets you guide him. Shuffling with you as you start to pull away. Not wanting there to be any space between you, he follows. Trusting you more than he has anyone in hundreds of years.

Out if the living room, across a small hallway, and through the doorway into your bedroom, you keep hold firm hold of him. Of the countless lovers you have had over the course of your overly-long life, none have set a fire in you that could compare to what you’re feeling right now — and the shocking thought that a soulmate might exist somewhere in the world for you narrows itself into an almost inevitable reality.

He’s never felt like this. Not even when he was a wet behind the ears whelp tumbling into bed with his first whore. The craving he has for you has burrowed under his skin and his fingers reach for the tie to your dress to strip it off your body.

Your hands work just as fast and thoroughly, pulling his sweater over his head despite having to part from him to do so. If you never breathe another breath that did not come from his mouth first, you would live another thousand happy years.

Modern clothing is both a gift and a curse. A gift because there is less of it, a curse because it was easier to just throw a woman’s skirts up and sink into her if she was not wearing drawers. Panties now are alluring but so restrictive. His fingers dig under the band and he shreds them in his haste to rid your body of the barrier between you.

If you felt any sort of restraint whatsoever, you might be amused by his eagerness, but it matches your own. It matches how frustrated you are to have to tear through the shirt under his sweater just to get to bare skin, then the belt and sticky zipper on his trousers to get to what you're craving. His cock is hard as stone – as desperately hard as you are wet – and you moan with a measure of uninhibited relief when you slip your hand inside his pants to discover he isn't wearing any sort of underwear. One less layer to have to tear off of him.

He would chuckle if he could breathe, but that is beyond him right now. Groaning when your fingers wrap around him, he bucks his hips forward and only takes his hands off you to strip down his pants and kick them off with his shoes.

Your bra is the last thing tossed aside, and you sigh into the feeling of his calloused hands kneading your flesh. He has made no mistake about appreciating a woman with curves, and in this moment you have never been more grateful for them. Any additional patch of skin for him to touch is worth praising.

"Beautiful." He growls, cupping and squeezing your tits, appreciating the lushness of your curves and the way you fit into his hands. It's as if you were created to slot into him perfectly.

“Enough to keep your hands full?” You huff a breathy laugh, already knowing the answer.

“You could be a little plumper.” Pero snorts, never denying a thicker figure is sexy. Back when he was younger; that meant you were well fed.

You grin, laughing with him, and tug him toward your bed without shame. “Then it is a good thing I am a baker.”

“Does that mean your cunt is sweet?” He teases, reaching out to brace his arms so he doesn’t collapse on you when you both fall into the bed. “Tastes like honey?”

“You’ll have to tell me.” The blankets are pushed aside immediately, letting you both tumble onto the mattress eagerly. “For the sake of your sweet tooth, I hope so.”

He flashes a predatory grin, eyes dark and full of mischief as he bites your chin. "Then let me have a taste."

"As much as you like," you assure him, sliding back to lie down amongst your pillows. "Until we are both satisfied."

He hums and attacks your mouth again, intoxicated by the taste of your lips and sure that the rest of you is equally addicting.

Every inch of you is plied with those hungry kisses. From your lips and jaw down the length of your neck, paying tribute at the temple of your breasts and growling into the soft flesh of your belly as he makes his way down. No detail is spared his voracious attention. No scar missed. No stretch mark unadored.

You are exquisite. A map of time, of experience. Random scars that have faded to non-existence. A lesser man wouldn’t even notice them, except Pero wears the same faded marks on his body. His tongue and teeth worship them until he has bitten each of your thighs and his shoulders are wedged between them, inhaling the musky, tangy scent of your sex like it’s a stimulant.

"I will go and get the honey jar if it will get your tongue inside me faster," you gripe, smirking at him even as your thighs bracket his head and his breath wafts over your cunt.

“Impatient witch.” Pero huffs, frowning so he doesn’t laugh. But he takes your lead and buries his tongue deep inside your walls, his prominent nose pressed against your clit.

"I will not apologize," you groan, sinking further into your mattress with a keening sound of bliss as he dives in with enthusiasm.

He wouldn’t expect you to. You are too brash for untruths. You are impatient and he groans into your folds as he sets about learning what makes your thighs quiver about his ears. It’s been years since he’s eaten a cunt with this much enthusiasm and he wants to prove that he can make you squeal.

Your fingers find his curls, tangling in the long strands and encouraging him to seek the deepest parts of you. It bows your back and makes your skin tingle, and you anchor yourself to him as he begins to build you up in pleasure right away. Every stroke of his tongue is magic, and you have experienced enough magic in your life to know that sensation deeply.

You respond so beautifully to him. Synchronizing your moans to the flick of his tongue or the nudge of his nose. Urging him on with breathless chants of pleasure that have him aching against the sheets he is grinding down against.

The pleasure is almost blinding, taking over all of your senses so that you forget everything in the world beyond him. His name is the only one one your lips, barely joined by breathless praises. A thousand lifetimes of practice have made him a skilled lover and you are glad to reap those rewards tonight.

You melt into him. Your cunt is better than honey but he laps at you continuously. Sampling the sweet nectar and pulling the gorgeous sounds out of you with a glee that is bordering on smug.

Time is as liquid as your body by the time you fall apart for him. All you know is that your world has narrowed to the man between your legs and that this is what you want more than anything in the world. You sob his name as he drinks down your release, fingers twisted both in his hair and in the bedsheets. The unapologetic ringing of bliss through the walls of your house seem to reverberate back to you, as if knowing that this pleasure should not be shared with anyone else.

Watching you shake apart is a privilege. One that he is determined to have. Again he curls his tongue around your clit to help you extend the fluttering of your walls. Obsessed with the way that you sob his name.

A satisfied sigh passes your lips when you can finally breathe again, and you open your eyes to find him staring hungrily up at you with his cheek resting on your thigh.

“Did I satisfy you?” He’s smug, because he knows he did, but he wants to hear you say it.

"Better than I expected you to," you promise him, not at all upset with how satisfied with himself he looks. He should be that satisfied. You certainly are. But you still shoot a grin back at him. "Now do it again. With your cock this time."

He snorts, taking the backhanded compliment and he leans in to nip your hip and starting to untangle his shoulders from your legs to crawl up your body.

"You wouldn't like a girl who fawned over you." That part of his personality is abundantly clear. Praise is good, but honest praise. Not when it is empty. "But I knew from the way you devoured me with your eyes at dinner that you could do it with your mouth, too."

He grunts, placated by your answer and his lips find yours again as he slides into your arms and wraps his arms around your back.

You’ll take the kiss as confirmation. As an agreement that you have learned him well in a very small space of time. And that is all you need to deliver the measure of passion back to him twofold.

You fit together so naturally. So easily. His body slots against yours with no discomfort, no need to adjust. His cock is pressed against your entrance and all he has to do is push forward to sink into you.

Gasping in unison, the sharp intake of breath turns to a shared, shuddering moan as he pushes inside you. Your arms wrap tight around him just as his hold you close, and the seemingly endless moment of just being joined is better than you ever remember feeling with any man before.

It’s not that it has been so long since Pero has filled a woman that has him groaning your name. It’s how perfect you feel. Transcending beyond physical into something almost primal, like you are his.

One long, breathless moment of amusement is needed before you search out his lips again, nipping the lower one and squeezing your cunt around his cock to spur him into moving. This blissful elation has mountains to climb before the night is over.

He grunts, twitching inside you because of your boldness. He likes a feisty woman, especially in bed. One that demands that her needs be met and met well. He pushes even deeper before he is dragging his cock back out, making sure that your walls feel him retreating to anticipate the next commanding thrust.

The rhythm you build together is damn near athletic with the amount of push and pull you give. Not quite right but all the way to the edge of wondering whether your creaking bed will give out before you decide you don’t care. He would be worth the collapsed furniture, this rough-hewn warrior with his heart of golden softness. And you wonder, in between moaning his name into the darkness, whether anyone has ever told him that before.

The mattress undeath you doesn't give him the leverage that he wants, that he needs to snap his hips forward and pull another beautiful cry from those lips of yours. Obsessed with how you take every demanding thrust and still seek more, he reaches up and grabs the headboard for better purchase. Growling your name while he rocks into you. "Fuck, you are perfect, bruja, taking my cock and begging for more. I'll give you everything you want and more." He pants, almost breathless, but determined to keep the brutal pace up. He had fought in hand to hand combat for hours, he can make you cum before he collapses in exhaustion.

Some lovers are sensuous, some are tender, some are eager or greedy. Pero matches the way you feel in this moment — the unbridled surety of what your want and need and crave — without question and with great enthusiasm. He is as hungry for a partner to be unrestrained with as you are. To find someone with whom you can remove your mask. The wet noise of slapping hips and growling of praise fills your senses like a drug and all you can think is how you want more.

Every thrust feels like he’s going to impale you. Hurt you. Your legs wrapped around his waist feel like they are the only thing keeping him from fucking up into your throat and still you cry for him. It’s the most beautiful, greedy sounds he’s ever heard and he wants more of them ringing in his ears. His lips kiss and his teeth bite along your neck, your jaw while he huffs and puffs, grunting his own pleasure into your skin.

Too much, not enough, absolutely perfect, overwhelming, and yet the most unbridled you’ve ever felt. It is everything. The first time you come apart for him it is like the explosion that heralds the beginning of a new world, tearing you apart from the inside out but only granting you a new and vital life force. Pero ends up on his back beneath you, trading places so that he can watch you ride him with greedy eyes and explore your body with calloused hands as you take more pleasure from him.

You are a witch. You’ve bewitched him. In awe of the sight of you, tits bouncing, head thrown back, you ride him like you are riding a horse across the desert. Every time you slam back down in his cock, his toes curls and his body lurches in pleasure under you. Hands filling with every inch of your flesh he can possess, growling and moaning like he is in pain, but it is pure pleasure bleeding those sounds from him.

It’s sunrise before you’re done with each other, collapsing into a pile of satisfied bodies and damp sheets. One of the best fringe benefits of immortality is the stamina and you fully abused that tonight.

“You have to work?” He asks, panting as he runs his hand down your sweaty spine and smirking tiredly when you shiver in response.

“I’m closed today.” You chuckle, breathy and light, deciding that taking a single day off from running the bakery won’t make a difference to the village. “There are more fun things to do at home.”

He chuckles. “Sí? Like what, bruja? Casting more spells over me?”

“Sí.” Laughing together, you hold him a little tighter, as though a whisper told you he might slip away. “Claro. Of course I will.”

He hums after a moment. “I have never felt that strongly before.” He admits after letting the silence settle between you and your breaths have slowed down. “That connected. Did you feel it too?”

“I did.” A small smile quirks at the corner of your lips. “I do feel it. Perhaps it is as they say.”

“Soulmates?” His eyes widen when he puts it together and his fingers twitch against the curve of your ass where he had been idly caressing. “You believe that is what we are?”

“Perhaps.” Your lips find his, brushing a reassuring kiss there while you still smile. “There is only one way to be certain.”

“How?” He kisses you back before he frowns slightly.

“Sleep, hermoso.” When he looks surprised you only laugh sweetly. “Sleep. And your bruja will cast into the shadows after some rest.”

“As long as you sleep with me.” Pero grunts, pulling you close again and closing his eyes even as the room becomes brighter with the coming day.

******

The sound of the cock crowing penetrates Pero’s sleep, making him grunt and curl around you a bit more as if to protect you from the coming day. “Too early.” He grumbles, although he knows that you must wake, pressing his lips to the warm skin of your neck where his face has been buried through the night.

“Ignore it.” You grumble back, shifting backward in a sleepy shuffle to burrow closer to him under the heavy wool blanket. You’ve only half woken up but you don’t want to leave this bed.

He grunts in agreement, holding you tight and his cock twitches when you press your ass against his crotch.

“Ready for more already, mi caballero?” Not that you’re surprised — you’re ready for him again too. You dreamt about it.

“Sí.” He growls quietly. “Your cunt is too good not to be craving every chance I get.”

"One night and you are already addicted?" You chuckle from somewhere low in your chest and roll over to face him, only to sit straight up in bed when you finally open your eyes.

Pero frowns slightly, feeling the rush of cool air when you pull the warmth of your body and the covers away from him. "Lay down."

"Pero." With your eyes darting around the room, you start to twist and look in every direction, turning a little more frantic with every change of direction. "Pero, look!"

He grunts, opening an eye cautiously and then he is opening the other, sitting up in the bed with a frown. “Where the fuck are we?”

“Flanders.” You practically gasp out the word, looking around in shock. “In a cottage on the river outside Gent…” Practically springing from the bed, you reach for the nearest blanket to wrap around yourself and go to the window.

The garden and meadow behind your little cottage look brighter and sweeter than you remember, but very much the same. It has been hundreds of years since you lived in the Flemish countryside yet here you are.

Swallowing a sharp gasp, you turn back from the color-stained glass window. “When do you say you were from?” You demand. “Originally, I mean?”

Pero frowns as he follows you, not bothering to find his breeches and he looks out the wavy glass. You must have been very well established to have glass. He tells you the year. “Why?”

You swallow thickly, disbelief coloring your features and all you can do is choke out a laugh. “Pero, look around you. We were in an entirely different cottage when we fell asleep.”

“I can see that.” He huffs. “I’m asking why you wanted to know what years I was originally walking through life.”

“Because…” You can feel your heartbeat pounding, adrenaline beating in your veins. “Because in your first walk of this earth, I was living here.”

He frowns, brow pinching together in thought. “Where are we?” He demands, thinking back to that time.

“Flanders. The country. I was already baking then…there is a tavern down the road where I made bread and cooked suppers and helped keep guests.” The awe and confusion on your face are so deeply etched into your skin that it feels like they go all the way into your bones. “For two immortals we should not be so cods walloped by the notion of time travel.”

“Because I have never woken up in a time different from which I fell asleep.” He reasons. “I was supposed to travel to Flanders.” He whispers. “After I left the wall. That was mine and Garin’s plan.”

“You were?” You wrap the blanket around yourself a little more tightly at this surprising news, as if it might bring on more unknown magic.

“Sí.” He frowns as he peers out the window at the sleepy little scene in front of him. It’s almost jarring, how quiet this time actually was. There is none of the low frequency noises that he had grown used to hearing in the modern world.

“I wonder…”

“Wonder?” He turns back to you, watching you as you contemplate this newest development in your lives. “What are you thinking, cariño?”

The term of endearment does not escape you, but rather it almost seems to confirm the thought that has cropped up in your mind. “I wonder if there is something in soulmates…being people who were supposed to meet?”

Pero, despite his humble beginnings at this time in history, is not stupid and he understands what you are saying. “So we have been brought back to the time we were supposed to meet and understand our connection?” He theorizes and looks around the cottage again. “You were unwed at this time?”

He has followed your train of thought exactly and you nod. “I was. When I came to this village, I presented myself as a widow. There was more freedom in it.”

“And I was to come and spend the winter here.” Pero muses. “A sexy widow would have been a very appealing way to spend the winter.”

"I would have welcomed you." He is as to your taste after hundreds of years as he would have been then, and you would have let him into your bed without hesitation. "We would have kept very warm that winter."

He chuckles and leans over, pressing his lips to your bare shoulder. "Overheated." He promises. "Do you think we are here to stay?" He asks.

"It seems likely." Though you do frown, trying to think through the logistics in your mind. "We could travel. Make our way east. You could see your friend again."

"Does-- does this mean we are no longer immortal?" Pero asks, looking down at his hands and body. "Or does this mean we live these times again together?"

"I don't know." You murmur softly, placing your hands over his and gently squeezing. "But we will find out. Together."

------

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

[brainrotbabe24]

Ways Thorin’s company will remember you while they are on an adventure!

Balin: In the art books, it said Balin has a lectern he would write on while traveling. So in keeping with that idea, I would say his quill pens would remind him of you. I imagine he has a busy life and tends to forget about the little things. So when he is on a journey, he will curse himself for forgetting quill pens. But lo and behold in his bag would be a new set. He would chuckle to himself knowing that you always looked out for him. 

Dwalin: Dwalin seems like the type of guy who would get a tattoo for you. Not your face or a heart saying “I love y/n” but something small and sentimental. For example, if you were into gardening or the outdoors, he would have a tree sapling on his leg. If you were into baking, he would have a bread knife on his forearm. If you were a singer, he would get lyrics across his chest. Each night he would take some time to look at the tattoo, and images of you would flutter in his mind. 

Óin: You know his skills of healing are important on any adventure. So in the months leading up to it, you see him gathering herbs and other medicinal supplies to bring. To help him out, you would’ve bought a pouch to hold his supplies in. Oin loves it and regularly puts his most precious herbs in there. He doesn’t let anyone touch it and makes sure it’s secure to his body at all times. Oin loves feeling the material and will unconsciously run his fingers over it when thinking about you. 

Glóin: Isn’t it obvious he will have a picture of you in his pocket lol. He can’t stand not seeing your lovely face while on the road and basically demanded a portrait of you made. He made sure on the day of the portrait he adorned you with the most beautiful jewelry, beads, and braids. You loved it! So when he looks at the picture, he sees all his work/love was being worn proudly by you. He likes having your face be the last thing he sees at night and the first thing he sees in the morning. 

Bifur: Such a sweetie! He would’ve kept a wooden toy you tried to carve… and failed at. Back before he left, you would’ve tried making a toy. You had seen him do it a hundred times, so you didn’t think it would be that hard. A little surprise for him would be perfect. Welp, you messed it up and got so frustrated you threw it out. He found it of course and kept it. He carries it everywhere and takes it out when there is free time. He would never tell you he kept it, knowing you would be embarrassed but loves you for trying his craft. He is beyond proud! 

Bofur: Bofur knows you long for adventure and would feel bad when he couldn’t take you on trips. So to help you “see” the world, he makes sure to learn a song from the area. You guys have a tradition: he leaves, learns a song, comes home, and sings to you. I imagine when he is out in the wild he will keep the song stuck in his head thinking of your reaction to it. 

Bombur: Oh, you spoil him!!! Once you heard he was going on a journey, you would instantly go out and buy him new cooking utensils. He would cherish it, though. He would delicately bring them out every evening and refuse to let anyone else touch them. He would clean the utensils until he could see his reflection thinking of you all the while!

Ori: Before he leaves on a journey, He will set up a knitting date with you. You will both make each other socks, a hat, a scarf—whatever comes to mind! Before you give each other the gift, you make sure that your initials are sewn into them. In times when he is uncertain of his journey, he will look to your initials and think of you. 

Dori: I would imagine since he prides himself on appearance he would have jewelry, and one ring (lol) would stick out to him. You can find him fidgeting with it and even staring at it for long times. It was your present to him, and even if he is covered in mud and his appearance is less than perfect, he will make sure to clean his hand/that finger with the ring first.

Nori: He stole something of yours, but you have to guess. It’s less about the object and more of the joke/tradition that reminds him of you. He will look at whatever trinket he stole and think about you looking all over the house for it. He will chuckle at the thought and will smile, knowing that once he returns and shows you the missing object, you both will giggle. 

Thorin: In the book, Thorin had a harp. I feel the rough and tumble adventure would occasionally get the strings to snap. So when he sees a neat bundle of wire in his bag, he would be thinking of you. His face would get red and a small smile would appear on his face. He loves knowing you think of him! I guarantee when he gets home he will play the harp for you, as a thank you.

Fíli: While I want to say a knife... because it fits him perfectly. I would have to say pipe weed. Fili would be the type to enjoy a smoke while by the fire, and since his trips are always long and filled with danger, he savors the nights he can relax. He would sit back, relax, watch the fire, and “inhale you." The pipe weed would remind him of you, the smell bringing back memories of your hands, hair—anything really. And if he was able to share this precious weed with everyone, he would thank you secretly for helping everyone relax. 

Kíli: Kili seems like the type of dwarf that brushes his hair. It’s less in braids, so it probably gets knotted up more. So having a small comb/brush gifted by you to help detangle after a long day is exactly what he needs. Kili uses it so much and will ask Fili to help brush his hair. He will then close his eyes and imagine you are brushing his hair…His dream would be interrupted, of course, by Fili saying, “Brother, please tell me why you have mud in your hair…”lol

Bilbo: He will keep a book! Maybe one of your favorites that you wrote your notes in. He loves looking over your scribbles, ideas, and thoughts you wrote in the margins! His favorite lines are ones he isn’t supposed to know. For example, he once found a note saying, "Bilbo’s birthday surprise will be on Tuesday. Get Cake!” He would blush and think about how much he loves you. 

Gandalf: He was a tough one to think about....Out of everyone, I feel like he will be gone the most. So, he would love it if you helped him sew up any holes in his outfit. When he is out in the world the stitching will remind him of you and how much you care for him.

[merrymusings]

            winter / christmas / holiday themed prompts

♛ — [sender] brings a gift to [receiver] ☁ — [sender] throws a snowball at [receiver] ✧ — [sender] bumps into [receiver] under mistletoe ✰ — [sender] and [receiver] stroll around the city/town looking at holiday lights ❐ — [sender] gives [receiver] a festive sweater ♬ — [sender] sings a christmas carol at [receiver]'s door ⇧ — [sender] and [receiver] drink hot cocoa at a diner ☃ — [sender] and [receiver] attempt to make a snowman together ● — [sender] and [receiver] decorate a christmas tree ❆ — [sender] and [receiver] get trapped indoors during a snow storm ╳ — [sender] encourages [receiver] to make a snow angel ⍋ — [sender] and [receiver] pick out a christmas tree at a farm △ — [sender] and [receiver] try to chop down a christmas tree in a forest ☜ — [sender] and [receiver] attend a white elephant/secret santa party ✔ — [sender] and [receiver] make small talk at an office holiday party ☺ — [sender] and [receiver] get tipsy at an office/school/community holiday party ♞ — [sender] and [receiver] watch silly hallmark holiday movies ☎ — [sender] and [receiver] put together a gingerbread house ◎ — [sender] and [receiver] decorate and bake christmas cookies  — [sender] and [receiver] cook a festive meal ☮ — [sender] brings [receiver] some fruitcake ✂ — [sender] and [receiver] craft handmade ornaments/decor ♤ — [sender] and [receiver] try to string popcorn garland ☀ — [sender] and [receiver] go ice skating ☂ — [receiver] sees [sender] fall from a roof/high place while putting up christmas lights ☾ — [sender] and [receiver] go shopping for gifts together ‼️ — [sender] and [receiver] take holiday themed photos together ♡ — [sender] and [receiver] cozy up by a fireplace ⌘ — [sender] and [receiver] visit an outdoor christmas/holiday market ♣ — [sender] and [receiver] make mulled cider ◑ — [sender] gifts [receiver] a pair of matching pajamas ✚ — [sender] and [receiver] volunteer at a soup kitchen ➊ — [sender] and [receiver] attend a local theater production of a christmas carol ✿ — [sender] and [receiver] attend a ballet presentation of the nutcracker ★ — [sender] and [receiver] attend a holiday orchestra ♜ — [sender] and [receiver] play board games by candlelight ♨ — [sender] and [receiver] roast chestnuts on an open fire ♯ — [sender] and [receiver] wrap presents together ☠ — [sender] and [receiver] play a holiday themed drinking game ⁑ — [sender] offers [receiver] coquito or eggnog ✗ — [sender] and [receiver] attend a nye black tie gala 𓋼 — [sender] and [receiver] discuss resolutions for the new year ✈ — [sender] and [receiver] count down to midnight

[stuckinthesun]

“You got a little something…” Sanji x Fem!Reader

Kinktober — Week One: Food play (whipped cream), semi-public sex, against a wall, desperate

When you guys docked The Sunny at the nearest Island, your guy’s plan had been the usual one: split up, stock up, load up, move on. But when the crew got to the main village of the small island to see the townspeople in the midst of setting up for a large Halloween party, the plans instantly changed.

Luffy was more than happy to invite himself and his crew to this village's festivities and, of course, put his friends to work to make up for their intrusion. You and Sanji were obviously put on food and drink, getting no complaints from your boyfriend as he was already talking to the local chef about tonight's menu.

You smile at the blonde fondly and follow after him, ready to be his sue chef.

Hours later, the town was a beautiful sight. Pumpkins, both carved and plain, decorated the steps of the buildings; orange lights glittered in the trees, and all kinds of spooky Halloween decorations were set up on the main street, making the local kids laugh.

It was nice, and the townspeople were so lively and festive. You couldn’t wait to go out there and enjoy it after finishing your job serving food to everyone.

“Darling, please, I can handle this myself,” Sanji complained again as he came towards you with another stack of delicious food to be passed out, “grab some food for yourself and enjoy the party.”

You smiled at him, taking the tray of food from him and handing him your empty one, “Now, how am I supposed to enjoy the party without my date, hmm?”

Sanji’s cheeks flush bright red, making you giggle.

“Sorry, baby! I’m almost done, I promise! I’ll be out to enjoy the party with you soon, don’t you worry!” Your boyfriend shouted much too loudly as he started running back to the kitchen, bumping into people as he went. You just smiled at him and nodded before turning around and batting away the rubber hand that tried to steal another helping of food.

After you finish serving the last of the food, you don’t get to see Sanji again for twenty minutes as he helped the local chef clean up. As you waited for your boyfriend to join you for the night, you got yourself a drink, finally allowing yourself to unwind.

“I’m here!” You hear a familiar voice call out, and you smile as you turn to see Sanji jogging up to you, “I’m here, my sweet!”

“Never doubted you,” You chuckled, giving him a kiss when he finally made it to you.

“And as an apology for making you wait,” Sanji beamed a cheeky smirk at you as he held out a plate. You looked down and saw a delicious-looking dessert with what looked like freshly whipped cream, making your eyes widen.

“Did you seriously make all of this? Is that a short amount of time?” You ask, taking the plate from him.

“What, you doubt my skills?”

“Of course not.” You roll your eyes with a smile and take a bite of the dessert.

Instantly your eyes close and an involuntary moan escape’s your lips at the sweet taste. Sanji’s cooking is always flawless, but his baking is almost just as good.

“Gods this is amazing,” You mumble, looking up at your boyfriend to see him staring at you with wide eyes and red cheeks.

“I’m glad.” He said quietly, voice sounding like it was caught in his throat.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Are you-“

“Have another bite.” Sanji quickly cut you off, almost demanding, as he nodded his head towards your dessert.

You narrowed your eyes and slowly took another bite. This time when you bit into your treat, a smear of whipped cream got on your cheek.

You sighed, ready to ask your boyfriend to grab you a napkin, when he reached up, cupped your chin, and pressed his thumb against your skin. Slowly, Sanji began to smear the cream along your lips before sliding his thumb between them, forcing the whipped cream inside.

Eyes widening, your grip on the dessert plate tightened as you stood there shocked. You instinctually began to suck on the digit in your mouth, feeling heat pool between your legs as you watched Sanji’s eyes stay fixated on your lips wrapped around his thumb, almost like he was in a trance.

Sanji’s gaze seemed to grow hungrier as he started sliding his thumb from your mouth, the whipped cream now licked clean, and pulling your bottom lip down along with it.

Finally his eyes met yours again.

“Do you mind if I keep you from the party just a little longer, Doll?” Sanji muttered, and you shook your head immediately.

Without another word, Sanji grabbed you by the hand and began pulling you between buildings, trying to get as far from the party as possible. You scramble to set your dessert down on a nearby table as you’re dragged away, knowing for sure that Luffy will find it before you return.

Anticipation tingled your skin and you quickly followed behind him. You had honestly never seen your boyfriend like that before, and it heated your core to see the pure want in his eyes.

The moment Sanji deems the two of you far enough away, he has you pressed up against a wall in a desperate kiss.

You sigh into the kiss, reaching up to grip him by his dress shirt and pull him closer. Sanji pushed himself flush against you, rolling his hips against yours, letting you feel just how hard he already is.

You pull back from the kiss, “Fuck Sanji, what’s gotten into you all of a sudden?”

“Dunno,” The blond mumbles, leaning down to kiss along your neck making you moan, “Just need you.”

With a nod you slid your hands down his torso, unbuttoning his dress pants and untucking his dress shirt. Sanji’s hands trailed along your thighs and up your skirt to grip your panties, yanking them down in one fluid motion.

“Fuck~” You hiss when the cool air hits your warm center, making you want to close your legs and rub your thighs together.

You don’t even get the chance as you’re suddenly picked up, legs wrapping around Sanji’s waist as he suddenly buries himself inside of you.

“O-oh gods! Sa-Sanji!” You cry out, tears flooding your eyes at the sudden intrusion.

“Couldn’t wait anymore, Princess.” Is Sanji’s response, his voice sounding deeper than usual, “I’m sorry I promise to make you feel so good.”

“Please,” You whimper, holding onto your boyfriend for dear life. His long cock fills you so well, just kissing your cervix and driving you nuts.

You want him to move.

“Fuck.” Sanji groans and gives you just what you need.

He starts thrusting up into you hard and fast, his powerful leg’s useful for more than just fighting. Both of you moan loudly and cling onto each other tighter. Sanji’s face is tucked against your neck, dragging open mouth against your skin while you grip fistfuls of his hair.

It’s all so much; you can still hear the music from the party, see the orange light’s glittering in Sanji’s hair, watch your breath in the cool October night air.

You can feel how his cock hits your sweet spot just right, every time. Causing shivers to go down your spine and loud moans to pass your lips.

Heat builds in your abdomen until you can’t hold it anymore, “Sanji I’m gonna-“

“Me too, love,” Sanji grunts, his thrusts becoming sloppy in a telltale sign of his own orgasm, “Fuck, baby, me too. Cum for me, don’t be shy.”

“Sanji!” You cry out, cumming hard with only his cock inside of you.

The feeling of you cumming around him pulled Sanji off the edge right along with you, making him spill inside of you.

The two of you just stayed like that for a minute, panting against the wall, trying to catch your breath.

After a little bit, Sanji pulled away and looked at you sheepishly, “Sorry about all… that.”

You blink at him before smirking slowly, “I don’t know, I kinda like it. Maybe I should’ve brought the dessert and let you lick some of the whipped cream off of me.”

You felt his now soft dick inside of you twitch and slowly begin to harden again.

You look at him.

Sanji looks at you.

You’ll definitely have to remember this.

Let’s pretend I didn’t get really sick and actually was able to post this on week one AND that the ending isn’t rushed okay

[milkb0nny]

Burgundy Leaves

Ivar The Boneless x gn!reader

Comfortember Day 3: Leaves Changing

Summary: You and your little sister decided to take a stroll through the forest to collect the colorful leaves of autumn. While you both ate some freshly made buns and played catch, you accidentally bumped into Ivar.

Note: Okay... I'm fangirling. This one kinda hit me a little harder than it should. It's so wholesome.

Warnings: none

word count: 999

With the arrival of the cooler season autumn, the leaves slowly turned from a bright green to a sensation of colors. The dense, towering trees of the forest beckoned, their leaves glowing with the fiery hues of autumn. It was a world of vibrant reds, golds and oranges - a symphony of colors that enchanted your senses. This was the kind of season where you felt most alive, and the beauty of the forest had always been your refuge.

Whenever the temperatures dropped the people in Kattegat knew to prepare for winter, equipping themselves with wood, blankets and a food storage. Although the colder season might not be everyone’s favorite, you quite liked it. You had a younger sister, named Ingrid, who also waited for autumn every single year. Therefore, the day you noticed the significant change in the leaves, you took her by her hand and dragged her into the town of Kattegat. Before you made your way into the forest, you stopped by a small stall. You knew the owner of the shop quite well because you had been buying freshly baked buns every other day. After putting the still steaming baking goods in your picnic basket, you and your sibling started your journey.

While you entered the nearby forest, the sunlight filtered through the dense foliage, creating a mosaic of light and shadow on the forest floor. The rustle of leaves beneath your feet and the chorus provided a soothing function.

Your sister ran free, catching falling leaves, collecting the most beautiful artworks by nature and eating snacks out of the picnic basket here and there. A bright smile covered your lips while you watched Ingrid being a happy child.

“Can we play catch, y/n?” She asked you, her eyes flickering in hope.

You answered, “Sure, I’ll count to ten and then I’ll come get you!”

The loud giggles emerged from your younger sister, as her feet made their way through the familiar collection of trees. Shortly after you reached the number ten, you began to run after her.

Suddenly, you trip over a thick branch as you ran around the corner. Though, your lovable face did not hit the hard ground.

With a soft gasp, you stumbled backward as you made contact with Ivar's firm, armored chest. The surprise was mirrored in his cobalt blue eyes as you looked up, a sudden rush of embarrassment coloring your cheeks.

“Y/n!” Ingrid screamed, speeding back to you immediately. “Did you hurt yourself?”

You shook your head, smiling awkwardly.

“I'm so sorry," you stammered, glancing at the tall man, your voice tinged with guilt. "I didn't see you coming. Are you alright, Ivar?"

You felt his icy eyes inspecting every single inch of you, thus made you flush. In all secrecy you owned a soft spot for Ivar. Of course you weren’t in a very deep relationship, but from time to time you helped him, accompanied him or cooked him dinner, whenever he didn’t want to eat with his own family.

“It appears we were both lost in our own little worlds," he replied, smiling softly.

Your sister, confused about the romantic tension between the both of you, distracted herself with collecting more leaves. Ivar studied Ingrid for a moment, his curiosity evident in the quirk of his lips.

“You are collecting leaves? A simple yet beautiful pursuit." Ivar grinned at your sister, who picked out a beautiful red maple leaf. She turned around and gifted it to Ivar, expressing her appreciation. Your heart warmed up at that sight, since he was so gentle with your little sister.

Ingrid’s high voice chimed in with enthusiasm, "Would you like to join us, Ivar? I’ll make you your own crown out of red leaves!"

Ivar, usually not so fond of children, appreciated your little sister a lot. She was honest and kind, unlike many other kids who lived in Kattegat. On top of that, the Viking loved one particular person who was linked to Ingrid - you.

Ivar considered the offer for a moment before a playful glint entered his eyes.

"Very well, little Lady. I shall accompany you,” he accepted, watching her happily run off to guide Ivar and you.

As you continued to explore the forest together, you couldn't help but be captivated by Ivar's presence. Since he had learned how to walk with his crutches, his tall body always surprised you. You liked him, crawling or walking, it didn’t matter to you.

You and Ingrid led the way to the most unique spots in the forest, where the trees cast long and the colors of autumn were most resplendent. Ingrid collected leaves of rich burgundy, while you gathered those of gold and orange. Ivar watched the scene with a hint of awe in his eyes. Ivar's gaze met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The connection between you deepened - you felt like you were the only two souls in the whole forest. Ingrid, ever the perceptive one, excused herself to give the two of you some privacy.

Ivar leaned closer, his presence filling your senses as he whispered, "Y/n, there’s something immaculate about you. I hope we won’t grow apart."

Red hues rushed over your cheeks, your fingers fidgeted with the fur of your coat and you unconsciously bit the skin of your bottom lip while you let his words swallow you whole. You barely could form a sentence under the embarrassment.

“Ivar, no. I apologize, I mean, I’ll always accompany you. Wherever you go,” you stuttered slightly, staring into the blue, vibrant eyes which formed a perfect contrast with the orange hues of autumn. As the forest whispered its melody and the leaves rustled, Ivar closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. His lips molded perfectly against yours, igniting passion that had smoldered beneath the surface.

A kiss you never forgot - your first one under the rain of changing leaves.

[youaintnothinbuta]

“What are you doing up, little lady?” — Elvis Presley x reader

Summary: you and dad!Elvis have a close call, your daughter almost coming downstairs on Christmas Eve to see her parents putting presents under the tree. More domestic elvis for you cos it’s just so healing

Pairing: Elvis or Austin!Elvis x mom!reader

Word count: 661

Warnings: fluff! Dad!Elvis being all domestic <3 probs typos sorry I’m tireddd

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The house had been buzzing with excitement all day, lots of family and friends coming in and out, visits from carollers and elves and cooking baking and everything else that comes along with Christmas time. Your daughter was 5 now and so she definitely understood that all the fuss meant Father Christmas was finally going to visit that night, hence it was a task and a half trying to get her to sleep. By the time it got to midnight, you and Elvis were very certain she was well asleep. You got busy putting all the presents under the tree and doing any last minute wrapping, getting everything ready for the big day.

In the middle of tying a bow, you thought you heard something. Snapping your head up, you reached your hand to Elvis’ knee with a stern “shh,” holding your hand up to motion for him to be quiet. He froze, also listening intently. His eyes widened at the soft rustle of tiny feet padding across the landing at the top of the stairs.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Elvis sprung up, quickly headed up the stairs, scooping up your daughter who was just about to take her second step down.

“What are you doing up, little lady?” He asked gently, resting her on his hip as he moved her away from the stairs.

“I can’t sleep,” she confessed. “Has Santa come yet?”

Elvis reassured her, pressing a loving kiss to her forehead. “No, sweetheart, he won’t come until you’re fast asleep in bed.”

She huffed, worriedly.

“How about this. You wait up here, I’ll warm up some milk for you, and we can have daddy-daughter snuggles until you sleep again,” Elvis suggested.

She nodded, he put her down on the floor and watched as she wandered towards her bathroom, making sure she wasn’t about to follow him downstairs. After heating up some milk for her in record time, he handed her her bottle and carried her back to her bedroom.

With her bottle clasped tightly in one tiny hand, your daughter used the other to tug gently at one of Elvis’ fingers, leading him towards the oversized armchair nestled in the corner of her room. Taking the hint, Elvis settled into the chair, pulling her onto his lap and cradling her against his chest.

Elvis held her close, his arms forming a protective cocoon around her as she sucked contentedly on her bottle, her eyelids growing heavy with sleep.

In a gentle whisper, Elvis began to sing, the familiar lyrics of lullabies filling the room with warmth and comfort. He sang to her softly, with all the love in his heart, the melody of his voice wrapping around your daughter like a warm cuddle. For the next twenty minutes or so, he continued to lull her, until at last, the gentle rise and fall of her breathing signaled that she had drifted off to sleep once more.

Carefully and quietly, Elvis eased her limp form from his embrace, laying her down gently on her bed. He tucked the covers snugly around her, ensuring she was warm and secure before pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

Descending the stairs once more, Elvis found you waiting expectantly, concern etched across your features. In the time it’d taken him to get y/d/n to sleep, you’d pretty much wrapped up (no pun intended) and cleaned everything up.

“She’s all settled now,” he said with a reassuring smile.

You let out a relieved sigh, leaning into his body for a cuddle. “Thank goodness,” you agreed, a small chuckle escaping your lips. “I don’t know what I’d do.”

Elvis chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “We would’ve made something up,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Now, let’s go to bed darlin’, we got an early morning,” he said, picking you up, reaching for the light switch, turning it off before carrying you upstairs, laying you gently down on your bed.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 75 (Nearing Delivery and There's a Fancy Cake!)

As with all her pregnancies, Heather worked hard up to her due date. Running Buttercup Pet Clinic meant very little time off and she was always tired, but she was more confident than ever in her team's ability to hold things down when she took some family leave after delivery.

She'd begun making ambrosia treats to sell, giving a few to Conrad so he'd have them when he returned to the lighthouse. But as ever, he was in no hurry to chase down ghosts and death, and it had been months since the Ambrosia Society's last newsletter. With Heather so close to giving birth and Ash about to celebrate his birthday, Conrad was happiest sticking close to home.

The did pay a quick visit to her family in Henford-on-Bagley, where they picked up a death flower from her mother's last batch so they could start growing a bush on their own. "Thank you for this," Heather said when they arrived. "We're too busy with life and work to wait for our plants to grow, and our upstairs hallway isn't big enough for a cherry tree."

"Take as many as you need," said her mother as River handed her a rare, spiky red and black plant. "It'll be winter soon, and you might want to grow the plant outdoors to give it as much natural light as possible."

One evening, Heather returned home to see a woman peering in one of their windows. "Hello?"

Startled, the woman gave a half smile and rushed toward the square. "The paint job is lovely," she called, but in a moment she was gone.

Inside, Heather found Conrad in the living room watching TV. Right away, he could tell something was bothering her. "What is it?"

"There was a woman looking in our kitchen window."

"What are you talking about?" He jumped up to take a look.

"She's gone. I said hello and I was going to ask her what she was doing but she took off and said she liked our paint job. But I swear to you, she was looking into the house."

"What did she look like?"

"Tall, pretty, blonde hair, black shirt, and she had a Selvadoradian accent...I think."

"Maybe it was a tourist who got lost on their way from the creek," he said, trying to calm her anxious nerves. "I don't think there's anything to worry about, but I'll see if anyone's filed a similar report at the station tomorrow."

They were both unnerved but life went on until it was time to celebrate Ash's birthday. Heather and Conrad were planning to host Harvestfest at home later that week, so they decided to forgo a large party.

"I wish I had the energy to throw something bigger for him," Heather lamented. "But with the Landgraabs in Oasis Springs for the long weekend, I'm happy not to hear Nancy moan about how much sugar you get in a piece of cake."

"He'll just be happy to have the cake," Conrad assured her before he stood to bring Ash to the candlelit dessert - a tiered confection Heather had baked to improve her gourmet cooking skill. "He'll have all the time in the world to hang out with his family and friends, and plenty more birthdays."

Heather smiled as her phone rang. (It was her family. Bad timing made plot!) "Hey Mom, are you guys ready to sing Happy Birthday with us?"

"Of course! Where's the birthday boy? How are you feeling?"

"I feel good. Tired, but good. This one kicks way more than Ash or Jett ever did. It's wild! Oh, they're coming downstairs now."

Conrad brought Ash to the kitchen and hoisted him up, and Ash blew out his candles with a big gust from his small lungs. Conrad, Heather, and her family sang and cheered.

Ash was growing up before their eyes. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

Sorry, psych! Short post coming tomorrow, all about Ash but not technically storyline. I put myself on a time crunch to get certain posts out by a certain deadline I set for me, so I'm squeezing in a quick little Ash hype post to give us a taste without making another post too long and splitting it, pushing certain events past when I want them to post. He'll be a kid tomorrow, I promise!

[vncannyvalleygrrl]

Hello, may I request Allan with a usually pretty quiet partner who is quite selfless in the relationship, but isn't really shy? Like she's really good at cooking/baking and likes to make him food and makes his work lunch nearly everyday. She just likes to make him happy in small ways. Nsfw as well if you don't mind, where she is more of a pleaser.

yes ofc 👍

Allan Red x Considerate Reader (F)

includes a little general, dating, and nsfw hcs. also female reader

General (moreso backstory but whatev)

Allan was always a bit nervous to start dating. He isn't too good at opening himself up to others, he knows he can be a bit stand-off-ish, so he never really considered himself one that someone would actually want to date. Thats why he stuck with one night stands.

This was all until he met you.

He's all to familiar with the feeling of falling for someone; that weird, warm, bubbly feeling in his chest/stomach, his slender hands feel all sweaty and awkward, he knows the feeling and he resents it. But with you, he couldn't help but swoon.

Regardless of how you met, be it a cafe or a coffee place, he had always felt comfortable around you. He held himself back from getting too comfortable, but you made it hard to do that with how you treated him.

You were kind, attentive, every time he met you he felt a connection. You even shared his love for cooking! Eventually he started going out of his way to see you before and after work, slowly growing more attached to you.

You would be the one to ask him out first, shattering his preconceived notion that he wasn't wanted. He said yes before his insecurities could answer for him.

Dating

He was a little nervous at first, he isn't that good at dating, but it quickly went away. Your reassurance had soothed a lot of his nerves when getting into a relationship, and he couldn't have been more grateful for you.

Allan is much more talkative when he's around you, honest to God he cannot control it. He just loves rambling his heart out about whatever topic is bugging him at the moment, and he breaks out of his rant-trance for just a moment and looks over at you, staring up at him, chin resting on your hands with the cutest smile on your face as you listen to him. It's like he's fallen in love with you all over again.

When he first tried your cooking, he thought he accidentally took a bite out of heaven itself. He has tried to replicate your recipes, but it never tastes as good to him as when you make it.

Cuddles. PleasepleasePLEASE hold him. He doesn't care if it's a little hand holding or you with your arms and legs wrapped around him like a monkey on a tree, he eats it up every time. Especially cuddling under the covers when you two are sleeping, it makes him feel like he's doing something right in the relationship.

He thinks that if you two don't do the cheesy shit couples do when they're together that he's a bad partner and doesn't deserve you. You make him feel wanted <3

He was a bit embarrassed to bring the food you made him to work at first. He doesn't want his coworkers to know he can have feelings! He got over it quickly, and now it's almost like he's bragging about his darling girlfriend making him his lunch everyday.

If you put little love notes in/on his lunch bag he absolutely makes sure he faces it towards everyone so they have to read it. It makes Charlie sick but Pim thinks it's adorable. Glep is too short to read it.

Talks about you at work sometimes, and Pim is the only one that listens. He ships you two so hard.

NSFW

Back to the cuddling thing. There are times where he gets horny when he's holding you (happens a lot actually) and he'll be too sleepy for any movement, so he'll just cockwarm you. He'll do it to test his resistance or whatever, but his dick is a little too sensitive and your pussy is perfectly warm and wet and now he's shaking. He just gives up and lazily ruts himself into you.

It honestly surprised Allan when you wanted to please him. Not that he's upset or anything. He relishes in it.

Will never say no to a blowjob on the couch or the bed. He gets super into it and dirty talks you while holding a fist of your hair.

He talks in a weird mix of praise and degrading. He'll be super sweet but the moment he's inside of you he'll say the most stupid, corny things ever and it somehow sounds sexy.

If you give him the slightest amount of praise he'll just instantly come. He is not used to knowing people care about him and it shows so bad.

Aftercare is like a dream with you. Quick hop in the shower to clean off the smell of sex, wearing nothing but extravagant bath robes for the rest of the day (he has several pairs).

Almost never happens, but if he's too tired to wash off he loves it when you just hold him in bed, all sweaty and naked and gross, but free. He'll feel like a total caveman the next morning, but at least he'll wake up and see you. That's probably his favorite part of the day.

[stalkerofthegods]

Lady Hestia Deep Dive

Lady Hestia is a wonderful goddess, she is always there for everyone, I adore Lady Hestia, I do not worship her personally but I know well that she is Amazing.

Herbs • Chaste trees, Rosemary, Parsley, Basil, Sorrel, vanilla, Cinnamon, coriander, Marjoram, Mint, Lemon balm, cloves, clary sage, Allspice, Angelica, Coriander, poppy seed, chamomile, Angelica, Bay, garlic, mint, peppermint, pepper, marjoram, The lavender, the chaste tree, the datura, the California poppy, the goldenrod, the hollyhock, the yarrow, the purple coneflower, all white flowers, Lavender, White roses, angel’s trumpet, goldenrod, hollyhock, and yarrow, pine, Wildflowers & sunflowers, raspberry leaves, sage, pearly everlasting, yellow rose

Animals• pigs, donkeys, one-year-old cows, a Crane. 

Zodiac & scared number  • unknown, I cannot find out what month she was born on, or the day. But I would associate numbers 1, and 6 because she is the oldest and the youngest (and etc, but who even likes my rambles?)

Colors •Gold, yellow, orange, red,  White, Gold, Lavender, light purple, black, silver, and dark red

Crystal•Carnelian, Garnet, Goldstone, Calcite, Topaz, garnet, amethyst, lapis lazuli, green tourmaline, Vanadinite, Quartz, gold, silver, and brass, Amber colored crystals, citrine, clear quartz, sunstone.

Symbols• a kettle, the hearth (fireplace), torch, candle

Jewelry you can wear in their honor• friendship bracelets 

Diety of• the virgin goddess of the home and hearth fire, cooking of meals, and sacrificial food for feasts, architecture, domesticity, family, and the state, and sacrificial flame

Patron of where the families ate and congregated, hospitality, family.

Offerings• give her prayer beads that remind you of her that are not Christian (or make one, which is better), wooden beads, Oil Lamps, Seven Day Candles (because they burn for 7 days), LED Candles, A Candle that reminds you of home, White or red candles, Apple juice, cider, Wine, Baked goods, keys to the home (preferably not stolen(looking at Hermes devotees))), Small kitchen antiques/objects,  pottery/cups/bowls, artwork of homey things, a meal, your favorite things, poetry, books, items you made, fall-themed stuff, spring-themed stuff, First/last foods & libations from a meal, Candles/flame, Honey, Pork, Cakes or Cookies made to look like one of Her symbols,), Keeping a candle/hearth fire or lamp constantly burning, Pictures of homes you want to live in one day, pictures of homes you have lived in, Pictures of architecture that you like, Teacups, teaspoons, tea towels, Childhood memories (ex- stuffed toys, baby clothes, old photos), Homegrown herbs, Toys or art of donkeys and pigs, Leaves or blooms from a chaste tree, Tea light candles (real or fake), Your favorite poetry or poetry you have written for Her, Your favorite books, Stories you have written, Art of flames, fire, candles, Garmets that you have made such as clothing, blankets, beanies, Homemade lotions, bath bombs, shower gel, bubble bath (You can ask Her to bless them then use them she probably won't say no), Beeswax products, honey, olive oil, pumpkin pie 

Devotional• Pick up rubbish in communal areas, Offer the first or last bites/portions of food your to her, Cooking/baking for yourself or others, Having a candle lit whenever possible (electric or real), playing a video of a fire place, Volunteerring at homeless or DV shelters, donating to homeless or DV shelters,  Setting healthy boundaries with friends and family, reading about Tea/Coffee magick, Getting involved with your local community, Advocating for policies you believe will better the community Allowing yourself to rest,  Do a chore you've been putting off for a long time, organize to hang out with some loved ones, Veil or bind your hair, Wear something red or orange, Make a devotional playlist for her, make a Pinterest board or a mood board for her, Learn about kitchen witchery, Cook a meal in her name, Clean the House, Put together a puzzle, Eat popcorn and watch a movie, do Knitting, read about knitting, donate yarn and

knitting supply’s, prepare food for family, make the table before eating, garden, Harvest berries, pick flowers, Donate to food charity/drives, Support people who lost their homes to natural disasters, Welcoming others into your home, Keeping the peace (especially in the home), Donations of time & money to Habitat for Humanity, Do little (or big) acts of kindness, If you have a fireplace light it for Her or build Her altar around it, Meditate next to a fire, Read poetry or a book, play a playlist for Her and play it while you clean or cooks, Clean your house/room and keep it nice and tidy, Take a cooking or baking class, Collect recipes and keep a recipe book, Host celebrations at your home, Remember your ancestors and learn more about them, Spend time with your pets, Take care of yourself and your mental and physical health (Your body is a home for you),  Take a hot bath, eat some ice cream, chill at home for a day, Pray to Her( ex- for protection, inspiration, happiness, guidance, and help getting rid of negative entities in the home, peace in the home, good food, an abundance of food, independence), help to start/tending to the hearth, work on having strong family bonds, Open your curtains and let the sunlight warm the room, Make a potful of tea and keep it in a large thermos, Watch movies that make you feel nostalgic and cozy, Say goodnight and good morning to her, Get an electric blanket and feel the warmth connect you to her, Cuddle a stuffed animal, Make a blog/journal filled with cozy homely things, Keep a few locally baked goodies nearby for when you need them, String up fairy lights and use them as your only light source, Whisper prayers and devotional pieces before you go to sleep, Use a Himalayan salt lamp to connect to feeling of a fire, Invest in little things (ex- pillowcases, photos, curtains) that make your room feel welcoming and peaceful, Make a little bottle filled with herbs and crystals and other things that remind you of her, Listen to music that makes your soul happy and your heart content, Take care of yourself (ex- Brush your hair, use a wet cloth on your face), Keep a tealight on you, Clean one small area of your house, Savor a hot drink, Do small, unnoticed acts of kindness, Always greet animals (both big and small), Do anything by candlelight,  Wear colors you associate with her, Practice your patience (both external and internal), Be a listening ear or shoulder to cry on for those who need it, Make compromises when it is healthiest for both parties, always have a lighter or matches, Listen to music that reminds you of her, Spend time tending to your body, Leave a big tip the next time you have a chance, Practice kindness in all areas of your life (including driving), Take a hot bath or shower with no time limit, Decorate a space, Build a fire, Compliment people (both strangers and loloved ones), Donate something (ex-clothes, money, or your time), Look at photos and embrace the happy nostalgia, Wear makeup or jewelry that reminds you of her, Wake up early to see the sunrise - or watch the sunset, Watch/read about acts of kindness to be inspired, wear prayer beads that are for her, go to a high school reunion, do a family reunion, do budgeting in her honor, do meal planning, set healthy boundaries, have a household notebook, do seasonal cleaning, try home remedies,As you light your gas stove, say a prayer to Hestia, Spend quiet quality time at home, Gather your family (including your chosen family) for a festive candlelit meal, Commit to spending more time with children and old people.

Ephithets•Äídios - eternal, Aïdius – See Äídios., Basileia - See Vasíleia, Bulaea - See Voulaia., Chloömorphus – See Khlöómorphos, Daughter of lovely-haired Rǽa, Khlöómorphos - verdan, Polýmorphos - multi-formed, Polyolbus – See Polýolvos, Polýolvos - rich in blessings, Potheinotáti - beloved, Prutaneia – See Prytaneia, Prytanei, Vasíleia - queen, Voulaia - of the council, Prytaneia -”of the Prytanis.” 

Equivalents• Vesta (Roman), loki (Norse), Brigid (Celtic), Hathor (Egyptian)

Signs they are reaching out• having a strong urge to Vail in her honor, seeing her animals and symbols in your dreams, and seeing her imagery a lot, everything at home suddenly going well.

Vows/omans• that she “would be a maiden all her days”

Morals• morally light/pure

Courting• None 

Past lovers/crushes• None

Personality• She avoids drama, and is generous, but her temper is volcanic in nature, she is slow to anger, but when she gets angry her rage is a force of nature. She is modest, tranquil, and industrious

Home• Mount Olympus 

Mortal or immortal • immortal 

Fact• Historically she is supposed to be the first deity offered to in a ritual due to being the goddess of fire, she's the oldest Olympian, She is spat out last by Kronos so she is also the youngest, she shares her seat with Diyonisus, she did not give it up, she receives a share of every sacrifice/prayer to the gods, and she is commonly seen alongside with Hermes, I would recommend putting their alters close together.

Element• fire 

Curses• a bad family life, food being burnt, having not enough food, being turned away at restaurants, being homeless, your house catching on fire 

Blessings• all domestic happiness and blessings

Roots• Greek mythology….and she was raised in her father's stomach, and at the first years of theogony era.

Friends• all of the gods, but most notably Hermes, but is not friends with Priapus, she dislikes him (he tried to rape her.) 

Parentage• Cronus and Rhea

Siblings• Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades, Demeter, Hera 

Pet• she has no pets.

Children • she has no children.

Appearance in astral or gen• she was typically represented wearing a veil and robe. In some images, she held a flowering branch or kettle as well.

Festivals • None, at every feast and meal a liberation was made to her name first and last, but I associate Thanksgiving with her, but her Roman counter part Vesta has 1-15 June of each year, an then another festival celebrated on 8-9 July.  Hestia is also mentioned on 8 June. But a neo-pagan sets aside 26 December – 22 January as a month devoted to Hestia.

Status• Virgin theoi goddess.

What disrespects her turning away people at your home (she is a goddess of hospitality and it was seen as disrespectful to her to do so.)

Planet• unknown 

Her Tarot cards• the Temperance, the fourteenth Major Arcana card.

Remind me of• Hot cocoa, and Thanksgiving. 

Scents/Inscene • Lavender, Rose, spring water,  rain, Pumpkin, Apple pie, cinnamon, fall leaves, Chamomile, Myrrh, Frankincense, Iris, Angelica, Peony, Angelica, iris, Sandalwood 

My opinion • I like her, but I'm scared of her too. (what a shocker!) 

Prayers• 

Historical-

Holy Queen of Sanctity, we hymn you, Hestia, whose abiding realm is Olympus and the middle point of earth and the Delphic laurel tree! You dance around Apollo’s towering temple rejoicing both in the tripod’s mantic voices and when Apollo sounds the seven strings of his golden phorminx and, with you, sings the praises of the feasting gods. We salute you, daughter of Kronos and Rhea, who alone brings firelight to the sacred altars of the gods; Hestia, reward our prayer, grant wealth obtained in honesty; then we shall always, dance around your glistening throne.

For the lost -

Blessed Hestia, the first and the last, and the always flame. May your light burn bright and strong, May your prayers be those of respect and love, May you guide the lost, And give to those who have nothing. I give thanks to you, Hestia, for all that you have done And continue to do.

For people with intrusive thoughts -

I ask Hestia, the kind goddess, to help those who feel down. May they find comfort and peace inside of their homes and inside their own minds. Protect them for their destructive thoughts, and be the safe place they need so much

A prayer for homeles—

In Hestia’s name, may you always have a home and a roof over your head. May you always be comfortable and warm with a full belly. May you always be in good spirits and good company, never knowing the pervading loneliness that envelopes the soul.

Morning 

Blessed Hestia, Fill this home with your light and bounty, As the day fills it with golden sunshine.

Evening

Glorious Hestia, Let your hearth fire warm this house, As night draws her shadowed cloak over it now.

Blessings of the kitchen-

Hestia bless my little kitchen, I love it’s every nook And bless me as I do my work, Wash pots and pans and cook. May the meals that I prepare, Be seasoned from above, With thy blessings and thy grace, But most of all thy love

Links/websites/sources •

ts-witchy-archive, constantly-disheveled, saryoak, eldritchhorror06, https://twelfthremedy.tumblr.com/post/625205765818515456/hestia-offerings/amp, https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/179727039352/offerings-to-hestiahttps://twelfthremedy.tumblr.com/post/625205765818515456/hestia-offerings/amphttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/179727039352/offerings-to-hestiahttps://www.learnreligions.com/hestia-greek-goddess-of-the-hearth-2561993#:~:text=Keep%20a%20candle%20dedicated%20to,prayers%2C%20songs%2C%20or%20hymns.https://www.theoi.com/Ouranios/Hestia.html#:~:text=In%20myth%20Hestia%20was%20the,youngest%20of%20the%20six%20Kronides.https://www.theoi.com/Ouranios/Hestia.htmlhttps://greekmythology.fandom.com/wiki/Hestia#google_vignettehttps://greekmythology.fandom.com/wiki/Hestiahttps://greekgodsandgoddesses.net/goddesses/hestia/https://www.hellenicgods.org/festivals-of-hellenismos---eortai https://hestiasservant.wordpress.com/2018/05/27/honoring-hestia-a-festival-every-day/https://www.elissos.com/the-family-goddess-hestia-mother-of-all-gods/#:~:text=The%20birth%20of%20Hestia%20dates,to%20his%20throne%2C%20his%20children.https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhea_(mythology)#:~:text=According%20to%20Hesiod%2C%20Rhea%20had,and%20Zeus%20in%20that%20order.https://www.reddit.com/r/pagan/comments/14sy8cj/is_hestia_reaching_out_to_me/https://mythopedia.com/topics/hestia

http://persephoneandhecate.blogspot.com/2011/06/exploring-archetypes-hestia.html?m=1https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/170063420188/bedridden-devotion-to-hestiahttps://honeyandhestia.tumblr.com/post/170063420188/bedridden-devotion-to-hestiahttps://www.tumblr.com/heatherwitch/160613514230/hestiavesta https://constantly-disheveled.tumblr.com/post/156636591525/can-a-hearth-fire-just-be-a-candle-that-you-lighthttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/169551188078/devotional-activities-for-hestiahttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/167758105763/jar-to-help-me-connect-to-hestia-chamomilehttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/171225676313/burn-herbs-and-spices-as-an-offering-to-hestia-i https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/183383795283/what-kind-of-crystals-would-yall-associate-with https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/171208375440/a-historical-prayer-to-hestiahttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/169394109439/i-ask-hestia-the-kind-goddess-to-help-those-who https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/166938581678/if-youre-still-doing-prayer-requests-may-you-be https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/178225408393/lady-hestia-goddess-of-comfort-and-warmth-to https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/183772520921/a-little-kitchen-prayer-for-hestia https://www.hellenicgods.org/festivals-of-hellenismos---eortai

I use resources, I do not own the info, and most deep dives have UPG (that I use in my work.) And I only take some information from sources. I am 14, this is my hobby, I am learning but I spent many hours and days on this, and I am always open to criticism. I have been doing worship for 5 years. Please know you can use the info, I do not sue, but I will take action if this work is used without permission and not put as a resource if used in any work. without permisson and not put as a resource if used in any work, for the public.

[gojos-fr-bae]

Liar pt.3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Pairing: Gojo x fem!eader

Warnings: Pregnancy, sososos saaaaaad, ands, fluff, drinnking, I LOVE Kouki

Word Count: 1k (not them getting shorter)

A/N: BOO! Didin't see this coming huh? Me neither tbh but i didn't go to school yesterday and boredom was kiiling me sooo.....

Month 5

Satrou (I swear we'll see y/n and Kouki this time, allow me this once)

As Satoru slowly awoke from his restless sleep, unbearable nausea overcame him as he threw his bearley living body to his toilet, regurgitating meals he has no memory of even eating. His mouth burned as he vomited bile, burning his tongue.

He had lost his will to live but life refused to let him go. He forced himself to get up, get ready, and prepare himself for the copious amounts of bullshit he would have to deal with throughout whatever amount of time he is able to remain conscious. 

As he sat under a tree, ungodly amounts of booze already flowing through his system, he watched his students train on the plain before him.

He felt the grass beside him shuffle, the scent of surgical spirit and smoke flooding his senses.

“Hey idiot,” Shoko said, her raspy voice barely reaching his ears.

She turned to face her former classmate as he sat there, silent with a stoic face.

“Are you seriously planning on staying boring forever?”

No Answer

Shoko Sighed as she looked at her friend. Ever since you left he had never been the same. It pained her to see the bubbliest, happiest person she has ever known in such a state. It was worlds worse than when they lost Suguru and she couldn’t help but feel for the guy. She placed her hand on his shoulder and rubbed it slowly, facing him as he stared at nothing.

“Please take care of yourself, and slow down with the drinking, you’re cooking yourself.” she said with a softness that was rare to hear from her.

The doctor rose from her seat and looked down at Satoru, he’ll be okay. Sha’s praying for him to be okay.

Year 1 

Y/N

You woke up and immediately ran to your son’s room, excitement having seeped into every bone in your body .When you walked in and saw you ray of sunshine kneeling against the edge of his crib, bright gummy smile with four front teeth showing and you felt like you were about to EXPLODE.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVEEEEYYYYYY!!!!!!!!” You screamed, picking him up and squeezing him to your chest.

His giggles filled the room and you peppered kisses all over his face. You took him to the living room as he clutched the shirt you were wearing. You walked him to the small living room of your quaint apartment, showing him the cake you stayed up all night baking. You laughed as he put his hand on the cake, smearing it all over his face in an attempt to eat it.

You looked at your son and you felt the love spillover as you couldn't help but tear up at the thought that your precious little angel was growing up. You were so, so proud. But the happiness was slightly soured by the fact that you would have to raise him without his father. You thought about Satoru and where he was right now. From what Megumi had told you, he had taken your disappearance har but he couldn’t really tell you more as Satoru and Megumi barely even saw each other seeing as Satoru buries himself in his work now.

You never hated him and never wished anything bad upon him, but you couldn’t help but miss what you shared, yet when you looked down at your cooing baby, you thought about his future and knew you had done what was best for him. You hope so.

Satoru

Gojo sat in the unoccupied nursery with a blue frosted cupcake in his hands and a number 1 lit candle. He had made sure that he was sober throughout the entire day and night prior just for this occasion. He looked down at the empty crib and pictured you and your child celebrating his first birthday, perfectly happy. 

Without him. 

For all he knew you had moved on to someone else and his child had a loving father taking care of him. Hisalready shattered heart only broke more and yet he was so happy and excited and proud that his son was already a year old.Although he wasn't there to witness it, it still filled him with such innocent joy.

“Happy birthday my love,” He whispered, a lone tear cascading down his cheek.”I love you.”

Year 2

Y/N

You were seated at your desk at 11pm, looking down at all the bills that needed payment by the end of the month. Rent, water, electricity, you need to buy food, clothes, new shoes for Kouki, and on top of all of this, he was meant to start school in September which was only a month away and you aren't sure how you were going to make all these payments on time seeing as your job didn’t pay you enough to handle it.

“Mommy?” you heard a soft voice call at the entrance of the office. At your door stood your precious kikufuku dressed in his kitty onesie and blue and white monkey plushie being dragged on the ground behind him as he held it loosely.

“Baby, what are you doing awake?” you cooed as he waddled towards you and raised his arms as a sign for you to carry him. 

You and your son were extremely attached to each other not only because you were his only parent (technically) but because you worked as customer care you were able to work from home, meaning you two were together 24/7 and it showed.

You placed him on your lap and he immediately snuggled as close to you as possible.

“Sweepy,” he murmured, already falling asleep in your arms.

You looked down at him, kissing his forehead as you realized that you might not be able to give him a life that he deserves. 

But you would, If you went back to teaching.

You didn’t want to get yourself involved with what happened right after his birth again but you needed him to have the best life possible. And if that meant you needed to go back, you had no choice. You had to do it for him.

But at what cost?

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Hope this is good😭🏃🏿‍♀️

Also, Thank you to EVERYONE forthe support, almost at 100 followersssss!!!!! Much love❤️❤️

@porridgesblog , @giannitaa , @c0pkiller , @havens-not-here

© gojos-fr-bae

[when-life-gives-you-lemons-if]

That Christmas meme got me curious. Do all the ROs and flings in WLGYL celebrate Christmas? :) And how do they usually celebrate it?

They all do, just that some think of it less than others.

Mattos: They would go all out, decorations, baking, cooking, but instead of a party they would just have a family dinner.

Green: They would put up a tree and exchange some gifts and would have a private chef coming over to cook a proper Christmas dinner for them and their dad.

Monroe: Christmas is spent with the family. Mom would be cooking, Dad would be on the couch, Diane and the kids would be around, and Monroe would be playing with the kids. I did a POV of Monroe's family that I absolutely love as it gives the reader insight into what the family dynamic is., I put some snippets under the cut.

Barlow: would travel to spend Christmas with Cherry and Clyde. Just a small family dinner, and gift exchange by the Christmas tree.

Fiffer: No trees, no decoration, no dinner. Would probably go to the dollar store and buy as many small gifts as they can afford, to make it seem like Amari is getting a lot of gifts. 💔

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Sweet

Summary: You were in charge of the bakery of Jackson, baking all day long with a little help from Ellie. What you didn't know is that Joel Miller had a sweet tooth. And let's just say even the funghi apocalypse did not change saying: the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 3.3k

Rating: T

Warnings: fluff, mentions of food, a little making out, that once scene with the sugar from gone girl but it's Joel

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified for new fic updated

You enjoyed these quiet moments when the small community of Jackson was still asleep. The sun wasn’t even up as you walked the familiar way from your small house on the edges of town towards the town centre. 

You still couldn’t believe how surreal living here was, after years of living scared on the road, even though you had been here for almost a year now. 

You felt safe here, and that was the biggest luxury you could have since the outbreak. 

Maria had found you hiding in an abandoned lodge hours from here, nearly delirious from hunger and hydration. 

You don’t remember how you got here exactly, you just remember waking up in what you learned later was the town's jail with Maria watching you like a hawk. 

Apparently you had fought them pretty wildly when they found you and you only had Tommy Miller to thank for them not killing you. What he saw in you was a question you still asked yourself.

But Maria noticed that she did not have to worry about you pretty quickly. And when her husband learned that you used to help in your fathers bakery before the Outbreak… Well let’s just say the empty building next to the bar had been renovated within three weeks to make room for a bakery and you had been baking everything from bread to sweets ever since then. 

Your days didn’t have to start so early. But you cherished the quiet, the alone time you got whenever you walked through town before everyone woke up. 

Ever since you started baking for the town all kinds of ingredients and appliances showed up whenever patrol was out on a run. You had your usual baked goods and pastries you made for the daily with ingredients you always had on stock. If someone wanted something special you did that too. You’d never forget last year when Tommy had brought you fresh strawberries to make four cakes with it. 

By now you had a little garden at your home with all fresh fruits. Even a peach and an apple tree was slowly growing in your yard. Okay, it wasn’t even up to your hip but it was getting there and in the meantime you could count on Tommy Miller’s sweet tooth to bring you whatever he found when he was scouting outside of the walls. 

Your little bakery was quiet, the radio playing some Queen CD you had found in the library as you kneaded some dough to make some new loafs of bread. Humming along you jumped when the door flew open with a yelled “Good Morning.”

You took a deep breath, shaking your head, a smile sneaking to your face before Ellie even walked towards the back to find you. 

“Jesus kid, one day you are going to give me a heart attack,” you scolded her. She stuck her tongue out towards you as she grabbed her apron. 

“You’re late,” you said. 

“I know. But I have a good reason!” she grinned and you only noticed the bag she was carrying now. 

You tilted your head to the side, narrowing your eyes with a smile playing around your lips. 

“Joel got back in back late yesterday and I tried cooking for him.”

“So you were late because you were putting the fire out from burning down the kitchen?” you teased.

She gasped, her eyes widening in mock offence. 

“Rude. But I’ll let it slide. I didn’t burn the food. Well, not much but Joel brought me some new comics to read and I kinda forgot the time.”

“That’s the good reason?” you asked. You began to cut the dough and form some loafs. 

She shook her head, beginning to unload the bag. 

The first thing you saw seemed to be cream cheese. 

“Had to pick that up from the farm,” she explained. “That’s why I was late.”

“Okay…” you nodded. 

She pulled another three big bags with what looked like a brownish powder. 

“Joel found this and said I had to talk you into making… Cinnamon… rolls?”

You gasped. Rubbing your hands off your apron you walked over to her, opening the bag and the familiar scent of cinnamon hitting your nose. 

“How did he even… Wait, Joel told you to talk me into making cinnamon rolls?” you asked surprised. 

“Yup.”

“Joel Miller?” you checked. She nodded again. 

“Huh okay,” you nodded, surprised. 

Of course you knew Joel Miller. Not just because he was the new main attraction (pun intended) of the town, no he could almost compete Tommy on the first place of Jackson’s biggest sweet tooth. Not that you would know about it if it wasn’t for Ellie telling you that basically everything she took home after helping you was almost inhaled immediately by Joel. 

You hadn’t met him in person very often yet. Ellie and Joel had been in Jackson for almost two months now and he was busy helping out wherever he could. He had a skillset that was very valuable in times like these. 

One day Tommy had brought Ellie with him, introducing you to her and she… she never really left. On weekends she helped you out in the morning like today, while during the week she hung out with you after school. If she wasn’t here, she was with Joel. 

Which made you not really knowing much about the man a little strange. He only had been to the bakery once, probably to make sure you weren’t a bad influence on his kid (though you would say it was very much Ellie who was the bad influence here, not that you would say that out loud). 

You had met him at Maria’s birthday party only two weeks ago where he kept in the back and nursed a bottle of beer until leaving quietly without saying goodbye to anyone. 

You knew Maria was not his biggest fan, though the question of why has not been answered yet. Not that you had a right to know in any way. 

To you he seemed like a man hardened by the world you all were living in. He’d protect his family until his last breath. Ellie only ever had great things to say about him (apart from moaning about him making her do daily chores around the house like every teenager) and Tommy seemed even happier since Joel was in Jackson. 

Of course you saw the way people looked at him, you weren’t blind. 

He was tall and had broad shoulders, the warmest brown eyes you had ever seen, leaving not only you to daydream about those arms and hands and what he could do with them. 

“So, Cinnamon rolls?” Ellie asked and you blinked at her, your nose still inhaling the scent.

“Yes. God, it must be at least 20 years since I’ve had some.”

You grabbed two of the packages, putting them away. 

“We gotta finish those loafs of bread first. Then we can start on the rolls.”

“Can we do a whole tin of these cinnamon rolls for Joel?” Ellie asked, walking back to join you at the counter after she had washed her hands. 

“Sure. I don’t see why not,” you shrugged, rolling the dough to form more loafs of bread. 

“Cause it’s his birthday and Tommy said he hates his birthday, cause ya know it’s outbreak day and…. Well stuff happened there…. And I… I want him to be a little happy?” she said and you nodded. 

Outbreak day was bad for everyone. It was the day you lost your whole family. You had just turned 26 and had been visiting home for a week after moving away for a job. You were at your father’s bakery, finishing icing for a wedding cake for the next day when your father attacked you. 

You had killed him in tears to save your own life and nothing had ever been the same ever since. 

“I already said it’s okay, Ellie. Come on. Let’s bake the best cinnamon rolls of the apocalypse,” you joked and she giggled. 

You ended up not only making four loads of cinnamon rolls that were gone the moment word got out you had made them, but also a little vanilla sponge cake with cinnamon frosting, helping Ellie to carry the cake and one load of cinnamon rolls home. 

She insisted it was okay for you to come home with her, she couldn’t carry it on her own anyway. 

Opening the door, she yelled for Joel immediately and you chuckled as you followed her inside and into the kitchen. 

It only took a moment before you heard footsteps and Joel Miller walked into the kitchen. And what a sight to behold he was. Wearing dark sweatpants and a thin white shirt, his hair unkempt. You had the suspicion that he had just woken up from a nap. His eyes found yours first, confusion washing over his face before he looked behind you to find Ellie.

“Look what we made you!” Ellie said proudly, revealing the little cake with one single pink birthday candle on top of it which she had lit. 

A genuine smile sneaked on his face as he slowly walked over to the table where Ellie had set the cake down. 

“For me?” he asked and Ellie nodded eagerly. 

“You gotta blow out the candle if you still can, old man,” she winked at him and he huffed a laugh, his head turning towards you for a second.

“Make a wish,” you said with a smile and he nodded before he blew the candle out. 

“Taste the frosting! I didn’t know anything could taste so fucking good,” Ellie pushed a spoon into his hand and he shook his head with a smile as he sat down. 

“I should go,” you said and Ellie looked at you with wide eyes, as if she only just remembered you were still there. 

“Noooo come on. You gotta stay. Enjoy our hard work and eat a piece of cake,” she grabbed another spoon and walked over to you, grabbing you hand and pulling you with her towards the table. 

“Yeah. Stay. Can’t let you leave without having a taste of your hard work,” Joel said and gave you a small smile. 

You took a deep breath, his eyes not leaving yours as you finally nodded and sat down next to him. 

“Plates?” he asked. 

“And have me clean the dishes again? Fuck no dude. Dig in,” Ellie said and you chuckled at the expression of pure defeat on Joel’s face before he sighed and dug his spoon into the cake. 

Joel became a frequent fixture in your life after that day. 

He picked Ellie up after her shift at the bakery and made suggestions about how to improve the bakery. He suggested having some place to sit outside to enjoy a piece of cake in the sun.

“You know, like a coffee shop before the outbreak,” he says with a far away expression on his face, as if he was thinking about something in particular. 

A week later there was a bench outside of the bakery with a small table, built by him and for you. You thanked him with a peach pie and a kiss to his cheek that had him hide a blush. 

Him and Tommy even brought an espresso machine into your bakery that they intended to fix. How they would provide coffee beans for their espresso was beyond you, but you knew if the Miller brothers wanted something, they would find a way to get it. 

Ellie started to spend even more time with you. 

She would visit you at home and help with your little garden. When you walked her home after Joel would have dinner ready more than once, inviting you to join them. And who were you to say no?

There were little touches when you passed by. His hands brushing over your arms, your back, your waist. Whenever you were looking for him, his eyes would already be on you, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. 

It was interesting seeing how different he was in his home in comparison to outside in town. 

He’d walk you home after dinner, so he knew you’d make it back safe even though both of you knew you were perfectly safe anytime in Jackson. 

Joel seemed to look for reasons to spend time with you, and you were not complaining. At all. 

It had been many many years since you were interested in someone and someone in you and you were enjoying having the attention of Joel Miller. 

He’d hug you good night, telling you to be safe and that he’s looking forward to seeing you the next day. 

Spending time with him became your new favourite thing, and you were pretty sure Joel liked it too.

Yet you felt like something was holding him back. 

And you’d learn about it weeks later, after he had invited you for dinner, for your first official date. 

You learned about his daughter who was killed on outbreak day. About how he lost a part of himself that only started to come back after he had allowed himself to care for Ellie. You learned about Tess and how he regretted never being brave enough to tell her how he felt about her before she died. 

“I’m scared that once I allow myself to care about someone, they will be taken from me,” he whispered as you sat in his arms, your back against his chest as you shared a glass of wine in front of the fireplace.

“I think we’re all scared Joel,” you said, your hands on top of his. 

“How couldn’t we be? Fucking funghi took over and ended the world as we knew it before. But that’s the thing. We don’t know how long we live. And I probably sound like a shitty  motivational speaker but it’d be a shame not to live every day like it could be the last. To not tell the people you care about how you feel about them,” you said and felt him pull you even closer, his nose nuzzling into your hair as he sighed. 

You had fallen asleep not long after, waking up early the next morning when Joel had to leave for patrol. 

His eyes had lingered on your lips as he told you to stay however long you wanted, before he kissed your forehead and helped you up on the couch where you fell asleep again. 

You were late in the bakery that day, thankful for Sean who had joined the community a week before who was already finished with all the baked goods for the day when you finally made your way to the bakery at noon. 

You thanked him, sending him home early before you got behind the counter and started decorating some cookies he had made for a kid's birthday the next day. 

The sun was setting when the door opened and Joel walked in. He smiled at you and you offered him a cookie which he took, moaning when he tasted it. 

“Got something for ya,” he said and you noticed the bag he was holding. Interested, you walked over to him as he held it up. 

“What is it?” you asked with big eyes. 

“Found a plum tree on the new route today,” he said and you grinned. 

“You got me plums?” you grinned and he nodded. 

God you wanted to kiss him so badly. 

You were startled when you heard a crack, Joel’s arm wrapping around your middle protectively, shoving you behind him before either of you knew what was happening, your head whipping to the side just in time to see the cupboard behind you on the wall crash down on the counter, your eyes widening when one of the bags of powdery sugar you had made the week before opened and seemed to cloud the whole room in a white cloud of sugar. 

You turned your head to look up at Joel, eyes widened with shock, a giggle fighting its way out of you. Joel was still looking at the damage behind you before his eyes were on you when you laughed. 

“I might have to file a complaint against the carpenter that hung those,” you hummed and Joel shook his head with a chuckle.

“You better.”

“It was your brother,” you said. 

He rolled his eyes and sighed. 

“Of course it was. Gonna fix that up myself for ya, darling,” he said. You smiled, only now noticing that his arm was still wrapped around you. You turned, stepping around him so that you were facing him. Carefully your hand reached out, your fingers rubbing over his temple, where you only noticed now some sugar was sticking to his skin. He hummed, his eyes closing for a moment as you swiped it away, bringing it to your lips. Licking them clean. 

“You have sugar all over you too,” he whispered and you sucked your bottom lip in, hiding your smile as his warm brown eyes took in every little inch of your face. He tilted his head a little, one of his hands coming up, two of his fingers rubbing over your cheek before he rubbed them over your lips.

Sugar, he was rubbing sugar over your lips.

Your lips parted as he tilted your chin up. 

“Always wondered if you taste as sweet as I imagined,” he hummed before he closed the distance between the two of you and pressed his lips against yours. 

You melted against him, your hands running up his back until your fingers were in his hair as you guided him down towards you. 

Joel hummed against your lips as he slowly walked you back until your back hit the counter. Parting from your lips he looked at you with dark eyes, before he helped you up on the counter, your legs crossing behind him as he stepped between them. 

“Dreamed so long about this,” he brushed his nose over yours and you smiled. 

“Me too,” you hummed, playing with his hair as one of his hands came up to cup your cheek. 

He kissed you again, his lips moving against yours, making you dizzy. His hand slipped under your shirt, making you shiver as his fingers slowly ran up your spine. 

You parted your lips for him, his tongue slipping into your mouth, deepening the kiss until you were both out of breath. You could feel him hard against your core, his hips moving just right against your clit, making you moan against his lips.

The door behind you opened and you both froze. Slowly you tilted your head to the side, finding Tommy grinning widely at you both. 

“I’m just gonna take his and…” he helped himself to two cupcakes and turned around, walking back towards the door. 

He stopped, stepping to the side to turn off the lights, giving you a wink before he closed the door behind him. 

You let your head fall against Joel’s shoulder as you both laughed. 

“I’m never gonna hear the end of that,” he sighed, shaking his head as he chuckled. 

“Maybe we should take this somewhere else,” he said and you looked up at him. He kissed you again, both of his hands now on your ass as he rolled his hips against you.

“Lead the way,” you whispered against his lips, shrieking when he picked you up from the counter and carried you towards the door.

[n3on-graveston3s-calling]

Holiday Season: One Piece edition

Aka, who's doing what with you.

Part I? Maybe?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Sanji

•Cooking, obviously.

•But ALSO, baking. Trying out new cookie recipes that you found!!

•FUDGE. He made home made fudge.

•Teach him how to make peppermint bark??

•He's the chef, you're his little helper. Which means you're taste testing whatever he makes!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Ace

•TIME TO FIND A CHRISTMAS TREE!

•Which sounds like a good idea at first. Until Mr. Hot Hands accidentally starts a small fire with dried pine needles.

•You two goy banned from the Christmas Tree Farm, sorry.

•It's fine its okay it's all good.

•You go and get a fake tree. That way, you can just use it again next year! Just. Maybe don't let him touch it? He'll gladly hand you the decorations! and tell you EXACTLY where to place them.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Robin

•Ice skating!!!!

•She's good at it! Surprisingly good? It's rare to see her so giggly and happy, but she is.

•She holds your hand the whole time.

•If you're also good at ice skating: Little couples ice dance time! By far the stars at the little rink. Have you two thought of the Olympics?

•If you suck at it: She is holding you up and laughing while you scream at her that you're FALLING, ROBIN, THIS ISN'T A LAUGHING MATTER, OH GOD, OH NO.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Law

•They're helping you wrap presents.

•You've banned them from seeing the gifts you got them, but they can help you with everyone else's.

•They're mainly watching you and handing you tape and ribbons. Oh, and signing the tags.

•You put a bow on their head. They, surprisingly, keep it. (“See? You're my gift this year.” “... shut up.” “Teehee c:”)

•Can and will wrap you in wrapping paper at the end. See? You're THEY'RE present. Now good luck getting out. (“Law… Law wait I'm stuck-” “Oops.” “TRAFALGAR LAW-”)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Sir Crocodile

•Holiday party, anyone?

•You're getting all dolled up to be the pretty lil’ thing on his arm.

•He's ready, watching you from the doorway, a smirk on his lips. Oh no.

•You remind him that you canNOT be late. He sighs. ( He'll survive. )

•Making your way down, arm in arm, he murmurs in your ear that he'll just get to unwrap his present later. You almost trip. He laughs.

[messyvanity92]

Domestic Law headcanons

Modern AU he is still a doctor (idk maybe he is has a small clinic

...

He does most of the yard work. He does it while wearing a tank top and pants. He takes off his shirt while mowing the lawn if he knows you’re looking, if you have a garden, he’ll listen to your instructions on what to do. I honestly think that he doesn’t have much of a green thumb but great at tree maintenance and weed control

He is the one in charge of buying or cutting flowers, removing the thorns, trimming the stem diagonal, pouring water, putting them in the vase

Also does most of the house maintenance if it is something that just is simple like clearing the gutters and downspouts, checking alarms and detectors, cleaning air vents, etc.

Anything else he can’t do, he just knows someone that can fix it

He can cook but it is just basic food

Has nice pots and pans

The plates, cups and bowls are nice and simple

He can follow the instruction when baking but forgets to “fold” something into the mixture instead of stirring Or he just doesn't know what soft , firm, stiff peaks are

Doesn't have any pets of his own but likes them

I think the two main themes in his preference for interior design/home decor is cool tone, minimal, natural lighting or cozy , warm , ambient lighting,

Decor and furniture is very curated

Has minimal smart appliances

Hates appliance shopping , he isn't impressed with how much features, he just Wants something that works

The house doesn't smell like anything other than plant, earth, wood, books

Not really a fan of scented candles, he might light one up while he reads but rarely

Likes furniture and is very much a “they don't make things like they used too”

[kisscara]

may i request a fic of scara being a domestic bf for reader?? like super the way of the househusband type of domestic :0 if thats ok w u??

househusband in training ★ [scaramouche x gn!reader] ⎯⎯ fluff, modern au, college au

a/n: HIHI this idea is soso cute mima and ty 4 requesting! i love myself some domestic bf scara.. ( ´ ω ` )

when your boyfriend of two years moved in with you in a small but comfy apartment, you surely hadn't taken him for the type to do everything around the house. scaramouche has always had the ability to get quickly tempered, but you didn't know that that would apply to chores as well.

after a month or two, you got used to his constant nagging that always fixated on the dishes in the sink and the state of the bedroom. the thing is, he never makes you do it. "tsk, there's a spoon in the sink, (name). you know how i want the sink to be empty at all times," he would say, all the while putting on his rubber gloves and apron.

you peek from the doorframe of the kitchen. "it's a single spoon, scara. plus, i'll do it if-" he stops you short with a raise of the hand. "no, no. that won't be necessary." and the conversation ends there, or so he thought. you muse, "hm, i've been thinking about something for awhile."

scaramouche doesn't look up from his work as he scrubs the spoon with a soapy sponge, "yeah?" as he reaches forward to open the faucet, you add, "you're kind of like my little househusband in training." you pause when you hear the clatter of the spoon. scaramouche slowly turns to face you, "what did you say."

you laugh, amused by his reaction. "i mean, you kind of got the part down." scaramouche takes off his gloves and apron to make his way to you in a few strides. he holds your face in one hand, squishing your pudgy cheeks with his lithe fingers. "if i'm to be the househusband, that means you have to play the role of my spouse, no?"

scaramouche also takes care of things like meals. unlike his mother, who could blow up the entire world if she even touched the buttons of the stove, he's fairly good at cooking. breakfast, lunch, dinner, you name it. he'll be calling you from the kitchen to come and eat and you'll be greeted with a table full of meals.

once in a while, he'll let you help him. he prefers it whenever you take a part in baking rather than cooking, since it's less dangerous, in a way. speaking of your well-being, scaramouche always checks up on you, possibly more than your own parents do.

whenever he feels as if you've been studying too long, he'll pry you away from your screen to spend time with him. "c'mon, i'm more fun than words on a screen." he'd say, cuddling with you on the couch in the living room. feeling overwhelmed? scaramouche is your go-to guy.

he'll turn off the lights, only leaving the television set as the two of you snuggle beneath the blankets. scaramouche comfortingly strokes your hair and whispers endearments, your head resting in his lap as he soothes all of your worries away.

and even though scaramouche manages most of the house chores, he somehow is able to balance his college life as well. he wears reading glasses whenever he studies but he finds that he focuses better when he does it with you. he'll pretend that he doesn't know an easy question and makes you help him out from that point.

every night is spent with him in your arms or you in his, words of affection exchanged and kisses shared before the sleepiness gets to you two. scaramouche can be mean sometimes, but he's big on being soft when it comes to you. it's almost like his lips are made for yours, considering the way they perfectly slot against your lips is heavenly.

in the morning, he'll be awakened by you peppering kisses all over his face and clinging onto him like a koala to a tree. that is, if you wake up before him. every other morning, you'll rise to the smell of freshly cooked food. though the point is, scaramouche is the ideal domestic boyfriend and maybe even a househusband... ♡

© kisscara