#custom spice blends

[successseasonings]

The Art of Creating Custom Label Spice Blends for Your Brand

Taste is king as soon as it comes to food. Custom label blends of spices have become a vital tool for chefs, food fans, and businesses alike with the rise of gourmet cooking and customized culinary experiences. In addition to giving your meal a unique taste, creating your own custom label spice blends helps people recognize your brand. To help you make a product that sticks out in a competitive market, this article will walk you through every step of creating custom label spice blends, from concept to implementation. Read More

[bourbontrend]

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[sansaorgana]

— THE PROPHECY

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Fremen!Reader

SUMMARY — After failing to protect your tribe, its members leave you behind to die according to your customs. When Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen finds you, he immediately knows you are a daughter of the desert that was promised to him in the prophecy. Just like you were promised a man from the stars to come for you.

REQUEST — (1)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I changed the request a little and I hope it's fine – I just had this idea and I really wanted to write it but the request itself inspired it! 💛 By the way, this request was sent in April... 🙈 I am so ashamed of myself and it's not even the only request like that because I still have one left to write with Feyd... Please, do forgive me... 🙏🏻 I know nothing about Fremen customs and I didn't bother to Google them because I had this idea in my head and I liked it so I didn't want to change it either way. Therefore, keep in mind that I treat The Fremen culture pretty loosely here. Reader is a Princess (I don't think they have royalty at all in canon), she has ritual tattoos on her body (not as many as Lady Jessica but still) and she has blue eyes from the spice (which is not even mentioned I think 🤔) but other than that I did not describe anything about her looks.

WARNINGS — mentions of slavery, mentions of sexual activities including non/dub-con (no actual smut), mentions of suicide, Reader gets beaten up badly in the beginning by The Harkonnen soldiers

WORD COUNT — 4,200

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

THE PROPHECY

In other worlds, noble families had all the possible privileges alongside the burden of responsibilities. In other worlds, Princesses were spoiled and insufferable creatures who had all their whims and wishes fulfilled. But it was no other world – it was a cruel and harsh Arrakis. It was a hot desert filled with nothing but sand and spice and your tribe expected that your parents would help them to survive – no matter what price.

Everyone had the same duty to keep the rest alive – your father, your mother and even you, a simple Princess. The Fremen were not rich, therefore you were wearing the same clothes as everyone else. But even if you tried to blend in with the crowd, everyone would recognise you because of the ritual tattoos covering your skin. The noble blood was nothing but poison running through your veins – it was unwanted. Every failure was blamed upon you and you would drink the collected water as the last because your job was to make sure your tribe would live.

You had lost your mother first, even before the new Harkonnen invasion and the oppression of The Atreides. But your father died recently, in the very same ruins where your tribe left you to die in the ashes and heat before they attempted to run away. You were their Princess and your family had failed to protect them – the tough custom was to leave you behind and let the desert take care of you. It would either swallow you whole or you would prove yourself by digging yourself out.

But in this case – it was leaving you behind for The Harkonnens to find you and take care of you. It was worse than death in the desert. Perhaps their ways of murder were quicker and more sophisticated but they were unnatural. You were a Fremen and if you were to die, you wanted to do it by slowly decaying in the sand.

“Mercy… Mercy…” You begged quietly in Chakobsa language when they found out that the body laying amongst the ruins was still alive and breathing.

One of the Harkonnen soldiers pulled you up by your hair and you could see them all through hazy eyes, in their black uniforms covering their unhealthy pale white skin. 

“That bitch is alive,” one of them drawled out. “Are you going to talk?” He leaned in to ask you but you didn’t answer. You had no physical strength to answer him but also no spiritual motivation to keep going.

You were already prepared to die and you felt so indifferent that their punches and kicks did not bring you any pain at all. They dragged you by your hair and bruised your skin, they threatened you and cut you in a few places but with each drop of blood, you also felt your life leaking out of your body and what a sweet relief it was.

You were lying curled up on the ground and completely lost track of time. You could have been there for centuries, long hours or mere minutes only. You had absolutely no idea. You only waited for death to finally release you from this life and from the endless sands of Arrakis.

Your dream was to fly – fly away and see other worlds. See the worlds with greenery and water. To breathe in the fresh air and to be invisible in the crowd, to no longer be a Princess.

Or to simply disappear. That option was not so bad either. Everything was better than this life, certainly.

For now, they left you alone and proceeded to ruin the temple around you. And some part of you grieved this loss of your culture but the other part had no love for it anymore because you couldn’t care less at this point and because this world and these people had brought you nothing but pain and oppression. You loved and hated the Fremen equally.

Perhaps The Harkonnens had left you alone to regenerate before they’d start kicking and beating you again. Perhaps they would let you die in peace – that was doubtful, though. Perhaps they thought you were already dead but you were sure they did not because they were very committed to their art of killing.

When you heard heavy steps approaching you and their muffled voices explaining something to the man who had just arrived, you realised that they had been simply waiting for someone more important. And he was probably the one who would bring death to you. You tried to open your eyelids at least a little to see the face of your killer as you prayed quietly for a painless death even though you knew very well that no gods were listening to you. No gods would listen in a destroyed temple anyway. 

The gods were angry and their anger was always aimed at people like you – the noble Fremen who hadn’t managed to keep their people safe. You were doomed in this life and in the afterlife. There was no escape.

The man who had just walked inside the cave in which you were lying had an intriguing face because he was quite handsome for a Harkonnen. He had to be someone important, too, because his clothes were more elegant. He even had a cape attached to his stillsuit.

“Spy. Left behind,” one of his soldiers informed him and the man finally looked down and spotted you.

You bravely kept looking at him even though you knew already that painless death would be no option from his hands. You even straightened yourself up, slowly and gritting your teeth because you didn’t want to hiss out of pain and give them any satisfaction. Now, you were on your knees.

“No trace of the others,” the soldier explained.

“They’ve gone South to hide in the storms,” the new man commented and his voice made a shiver go down your spine and formed a knot in your stomach. There was something extremely eerie about him in a way that no ordinary Harkonnen could match. He was evil and twisted – even his voice was.

He was given a blade and he examined it as you were examining him, trying to figure him out even though it was pointless since it was the last minute of your life, most likely. Yet, stupid human brain always had to be kept entertained, always needed a distraction – even in a time like this.

“Send this message to The Baron,” the man commanded. “The North is liberated and secure. Harvest spice at will,” he looked back at you as if he was trying to mock you or tease you – so unaware how much you simply did not care anymore.

If it was up to you, you would blow up the whole planet. You would wipe Arrakis out of every galactic map.

“Yes, Na-Baron,” the man behind him bowed his head and then you realised that the demon in front of you was Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen himself.

It was quite ironic – he was of noble blood, too. Perhaps it would be an honour to be killed by him if you were a simple girl but you were not. Maybe it was a small mercy of the gods – a small, ironic smile. Yes, they would bring death now but at least your murderer was your equal and not a common Harkonnen scum.

Feyd-Rautha approached you slowly, clenching his jaw and your own sore muscles tensed, expecting another kick or a blow or things much, much worse. You just kept sitting there and looking up at him, too weak to even beg for mercy anymore.

And you didn’t want to either.

“She won’t talk,” another soldier of his told him and Feyd-Rautha tilted his head.

After a short while of silence, he crouched down in front of you and he tore a part of your stillsuit off of your body, revealing your arm and one side of your chest. You made no attempt to hide away from him or to yell for him to stop because you knew it would not help you in any way and it would only cost you even more of your dignity.

He smirked at the sight of your exposed body and stood up again.

“She is their Princess,” he pointed out loud. “Her marks give her away,” he added. “She is no spy. She was left to die as a punishment of her tribe.”

You were surprised how much he knew about your customs. Feyd-Rautha turned around to look at you again.

“I do not care about the Fremen traditions,” he informed you. “You will go with me,” he ordered.

You were too weak to move, of course. When two of his soldiers forced you to move up as they dragged you by your hair, you fell down on the ground. They kept forcing you up again and again, until you completely lost consciousness.

A man from the stars. 

You were a young girl again or perhaps you were a visitor in your old memory because you could see yourself sitting there, inside the dark cave deep under the temple with a Reverend Mother and a few other veiled Bene Gesserit women. A young girl with tears still in the corners of her eyes from the painful ritual of marking her body with the black ink. She had just become a Princess and she already knew it was a path of pain and sacrifice. Now, she had been tested with Gom Jabbar – another suffering filling this small body of a little girl. She hadn’t asked for any of this.

“A man from the stars,” the Reverend Mother said to her. A prophecy.

“What about him?” The girl asked, wiping her tears away with the palm of her hand, forgetting that they were sensitive now. The tears burnt her freshly-inked skin and she hissed. Bene Gesserit women smiled contemptuously. It was the Princess’ punishment for shedding tears and wasting water.

“He will come for you,” The Reverend Mother found her eyes through all the chains in her veil. Little girl felt a chill going down her spine at those words and she was not sure whether it was a promise or a threat.

She never told her parents about this prophecy and soon she forgot about it anyway. She grew up to be too big to believe in fairytales.

When you opened your eyes again, you gasped and sat up rapidly as the water splashed all around you. You looked down, terrified, and realised that you were naked inside a bathtub, surrounded by a few terrified maids who had moved away at the sight of you awakening.

“Wh-what is happening?” You asked them. Some of them were clearly Harkonnen with their white skin, big black eyes and bald heads. Some of them were Fremen slaves but they were not from your tribe because you couldn’t recognise any of them.

“Na-Baron asked us to clean you up and take care of your wounds, my Lady,” the Harkonnen maid informed you. She was not sure how to address you but you couldn’t care less about that. What shocked you the most was…

“Water!” You yelped and tried to get out of the bathtub although you were too weak to do so. “You are wasting water!”

“We have more than enough water here in the palace,” the Fremen slave woman told you and you calmed yourself down although you couldn’t help but feel angry about the injustice.

Of course they had water in the Arrakeen’s palace. The Harkonnens, The Atreides… People like them never suffered – even in a place like this.

You allowed the maids to go back to cleaning you up. When you were as fresh as never before, you couldn’t recognise yourself in the mirror. Even your skin looked a shade paler because it was no longer stained with the sand. Your hair was shining and the skilled hands of one of the maids braided it before your wounds were patched up and your body was covered with a semi-transparent dress. It was very feminine and quite revealing and the colours were all hues of orange.

“Na-Baron wishes to see you now, my Lady,” one of the maids bowed her head at you and two other maids took you by your arms to help you walk down the corridor to join Feyd-Rautha since you were still too weak to walk.

He was sitting by the big table that was filled with so much food you had never seen in your life. The colourful fruit filled with juice and water made your mouth drool.

The maids let go of your arms to bow down in front of him. You did not bow down but he did not comment. He had his legs placed up there on the table’s surface and he smirked at you, beckoning you over with his finger.

“Come, Princess,” he mocked your title and you limped towards him. “Leave us,” he ordered the maids and they left the room with their heads kept low out of fear and respect.

You finally reached the table and you grasped the edge of it for support as you moved even closer to Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. You were not scared of him because you were not scared of death anymore and his title did not intimidate you because you were of noble blood, too – even though in his eyes you had to be a dirty savage anyway.

His face fascinated you because it was so unnaturally beautiful in a way that no Harkonnen should be. But still, you kept staring at his face with nothing but pure hatred.

“You must be starving,” he pointed out at the chair nearby. “Treat yourself.”

“Thank you,” you drawled out through your gritted teeth and took the seat, too hungry to dismiss such an offer.

You were devouring a grapefruit, allowing its sticky juice to run down your chin when Feyd-Rautha put his legs back on the floor and leaned in over the table to take a closer look at you.

“What do they call you, Princess?” He asked in a low, raspy whisper. “Have my men hurt you badly?”

“(Y/N),” you answered and looked deep into his eyes, showing him that you were not scared of him. “I can handle that.”

“That is a pretty name for a strong woman,” he commented. “You will be my slave,” he said casually and leaned back on the chair.

You didn’t know what to say to this, really. You knew that protesting was foolish – you didn’t want to lose the opportunity to keep your stomach full and it was obvious from the beginning that he hadn’t brought you to the palace as a guest anyway. Still, it felt wrong to quietly accept such a fate.

“I am no maid,” you only said.

“Not like that,” Feyd-Rautha smirked. “Not a maid. A special slave,” he explained but you kept staring at him in silence, killing him with your gaze only. He found it amusing as he chuckled. “You know, Princess, you are a daughter of the desert,” he pointed his finger at you and you raised your eyebrow at him. “I was told by a Bene Gesserit witch that a daughter of the desert would give me a strong heir who shall inherit the Empire. The Harkonnen and Fremen bloodline could not be further apart and that is why mixed together they will create the most powerful species of men. An ultimate man,” Feyd-Rautha explained.

“You are the man from the stars,” you mumbled out, feeling weird with the fact that your prophecy had been true, after all.

Feyd-Rautha was taken aback by your question and he had no idea what it meant but you did not feel like explaining.

“You want me to be your whore. You want me to push out your heirs but they will not be any powerful, ultimate beings, Na-Baron. They will be pure chaos. That is the only thing that can ever come out of our bloodlines mixed together,” you pointed out harshly. “You poison my world, you oppress my people, you killed my family. And now you’re asking me to be your concubine.”

“I must have missed the part where I am asking,” Feyd-Rautha clenched his jaw. You were getting him angry and it was nearly funny how spoiled he was that he really had thought you would agree to such a proposition after such a past.

“Kill me,” you requested and put the grapefruit down. “Kill me because I will be no use to you. I will never be your whore and I would rather die than give birth to your sickly bastards.”

“Why are you loyal to the people who left you behind to rot in the sand?” He asked, tilting his head. He was no longer angry but simply curious.

“That is the custom,” you only answered.

Your relationship with your tribe and your world was of a difficult kind but Feyd-Rautha did not need to know about it. He was an intruder, an outsider, an oppressor. He didn’t deserve to know your heart.

“You can’t run away from your prophecy, Princess,” Feyd-Rautha reminded you before leaving the table and leaving you alone inside the room.

When he left, you went back to eating – as much as you could and as fast as you managed. You felt like an animal and a savage indeed but there was no one to witness that desperate act anyway and you could not remember the last time you had something in your mouth.

Feyd-Rautha did not bother you personally but the maids were following you around and even though you were given your own room with a beautiful view of the desert, you were never truly left alone. You had beautiful but pretty humiliating dresses to wear and you were given baths every day which felt like a profanity for a Fremen.

You were well fed but most of the time you were bored. You knew that Na-Baron was awaiting your answer. You just hadn’t been told how much time exactly you had to make a choice.

Choosing death was simple and easy. Choosing to be his slave-concubine meant betraying your people and betraying who you were, even though you had always felt like you did not fit in with the Fremen and you always wanted to leave Arrakis. It had been a distant dream, too foolish and impossible to even be mentioned to anyone. But now, it could be true. As Feyd-Rautha’s new pet that he seemed to already be pretty fond of, you would be able to visit other worlds.

Your prophecy had claimed, after all, that the man from the stars would come for you. His prophecy had claimed that the daughter of the desert would give him a powerful heir. If it was true and you would become a mother of the future Emperor – well, that was quite tempting, indeed. No matter the price.

Staring at the desert behind your window, you were hugging yourself and biting on your lower lip while you were spending your evening overthinking – it had been your only occupation lately.

You had a feeling that this evening Feyd-Rautha would join you because you were left alone by your maids which was unusual. And indeed, a few moments later the doors opened again and he walked inside. His steps were heavy and confident as usual. It would be your first conversation ever since the one after your arrival.

“My Princess,” he greeted you in that harsh voice of his as he stood behind you and put his hands on your arms in quite a gentle but still very possessive manner.

“I have not made my decision yet,” you only said.

“Decision?” Feyd-Rautha was surprised and then he laughed. “You do not get to choose. Do you think I would let you choose death when I know that your womb might give me an heir that has been promised to me in a prophecy?” He lowered his voice and his words sent a chill down your body. His lips were brushing your neck and earlobe and you tried to get away from his grip but he tightened it and you couldn’t do anything about it.

“I should have killed myself,” you drawled out through gritted teeth.

“I suspected you might do so, therefore I ordered the maids to invade your privacy all day and night, my Princess,” he smirked. You could feel his lips curling on your skin.

“I’m going to kill every child you put inside of me,” you threatened.

“You can try,” he kept smirking but his grasp tightened even further.

“I will not be your slave,” you protested and kept shaking your head even though you knew it was pointless.

“Concubine,” Feyd-Rautha tried to convince you as if he really cared for the transaction to go pretty smoothly. And, apparently, he was in a mood to bargain. 

“Wife,” you spat out and a long silence occurred. His grip loosened and he took a step back, eyeing you up and down as he let out a deep laugh. You turned your head around to look at him. “I won’t push out bastards,” you stated.

“I have no desire for a wife,” Na-Baron dismissed you.

“And I have no desire for a husband but that is the only way I see it working,” you explained. “Of course you don’t need my permission to do anything with me. You might use me, imprison me to make sure I won’t get rid of your spawn and then you can kill me. But I am not as weak as you think of me, I am a daughter of the desert. I will change your life into hell and I will make you regret every hour, every day until I eventually die but believe me, I will make this time pass by very slowly,” you threatened.

“And why would I want to marry such a woman?”

“Because I have not described a wife. I have described a slave,” you explained. “Do you wish to know what kind of wife I would be?” You raised your eyebrow and took a step further towards him. He seemed to be intrigued as he tilted his head and you smirked to yourself. It seemed to be working – your plan to tempt him and convince him.

You had to secure your future and your position and since he was your oppressor, you felt no guilt about using manipulation to get there.

“You might think of me as lower than you but I am a Princess just like you are a Na-Baron and only our customs differ. Imagine taking me back to your world, your exotic war prize from Arrakis. You can dress me up in those pretty dresses and show me off, swollen with your special heir. I am a savage to the outsiders but couldn’t you turn the tables and make it an advantage? Your wild, savage wife that nobody knows anything about and who everyone fears?” You whispered, seductively.

“I know what you're doing,” Feyd-Rautha breathed out but even though he was aware of you trying to manipulate him, he was visibly giving in anyway. “You’re going to kill me in my sleep,” he added, looking intensely into your eyes and you chuckled at that.

“Perhaps,” you shrugged your arms. “But isn’t the prophecy worth the risk?” You asked.

After all, you were sacrificing and risking a lot, too. And it would be only fair if the transaction costed you both the equal amount.

“You are the jewel of Arrakis,” Feyd-Rautha chuckled and raised his hand to undo your braids and watch your hair let loose.

“And you are its poison,” you remarked as he smirked, eyeing you up and down.

“Together, we can rule over the worlds,” he whispered.

“Or destroy them,” you added.

Na-Baron shook his head but the smirk remained on his lips. He found it amusing that you had an answer for everything and how gloomy they all were. However, so far, it was entertaining for him. He brushed your collarbone with his fingertips.

“I surely have more experience in destroying them than I have in ruling over them,” he confessed but the hunger in his eyes was a clear message to you that he did not mean only Arrakis but also women overall.

“Some are too wild to be ruled over and too wild to be destroyed,” you informed him and he found your eyes again after staring at your chest and neck. For the first time, you saw that he was genuinely intrigued. Perhaps he finally saw you as a challenge. A riddle. A savage to tame.

Whatever would keep you alive and in a position of power.

Because no matter how much you were trying to convince yourself that you were ready to die, this life stubbornly seemed to keep you alive and there must have been a purpose in it.

Therefore, you were ready to receive everything this new life had to offer for you now. As if you had died in that temple and now you were given a second chance.

MASTERLIST

[mischievousmoony]

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚎

𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟸 ⟡ 𝚓𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜' 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕

⟢ james potter x fem!reader

⟢ summary: modern restaurant au; after training with james for a few weeks, people have started calling you his . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁1.3k

⟢ warnings/tags: coworker!james, coworker!marauders, slightly anxious!reader, not proofread

⟢ the new hire masterlist ⟡ main masterlist

note: i hate seafood but i keep putting it on my fictional restaurants menu ? kept this one pretty simple so i could get it out there <3

"Crab cakes, go." James says, eyes darting up from the menu he's holding to look at you from across the rickety staff room table.

You don't miss a beat, describing the dish as you would to a customer, "The crab cakes are one of our most popular appetizers. They're pan seared and served with sofrito escabeche, a zesty blend of onions, bell peppers, and tomatoes—so I highly recommend them if you're looking for something tangy—and they have a to die for berbere aioli drizzle."

"Tell me more about the berbere aioli. What is that?" James questions, playing the part of a curious customer.

"The berbere aioli is a spicy-chili sauce that I'd say is just shy of medium in terms of spice level. It complements the crab cakes really well, but you could always order it on the side if you're not too sure about it."

"That's my girl," James praises, "You're a quick learner, you know that?"

"I don't know about that," you protest, looking down at your hands that lay politely folded on the table in front of you. You try to mentally will yourself not to blush at James' approval.

"It's barely over a week since you started and you know this thing like the back of your hand," James argues, gently tossing the menu down as he leans back in his chair, "And there's so little time to sit and study here."

You have a funny look on your face when you meet James' eyes again, eliciting a gasp from him.

"You've been studying the menu outside of work, haven't you?" he squints, speaking in an accusatory tone.

"Shouldn't I?" you ask, and the fact that it's a genuine question has James clutching his chest over his heart.

"No! You never think about work unless you're getting paid!"

"How else am I supposed to learn this whole menu in a timely manner?" you cross your arms defensively.

"Who said anything about a timely manner, Love. I was weeks out of training before I had the whole thing down."

"Yeah, well you're more..." you trail off, trying to find the words.

"More what?" James is quick to sound defensive.

You put your hands up as a sign of innocence, "Just laid back. You're a go with the flow kind of guy. As opposed to me, who's more-"

James interjects, "Stuck in your head," nodding along without a doubt that that's what you were going to say.

You look at James, a bit of surprise and alarm swirling around in the pit of your stomach. He was spot on, but how could he possibly be? He barely knows you, after all.

"What?" James seems to sense your confusion, "I've noticed the turmoil in those eyes of yours. You're doing it right now."

You look bashful, so James graciously changes the subject.

"Whatever, just promise me you won't ever think about this place when you're off the clock again!"

"Promise," you agree, despite his request being impossible.

For whatever reason, your mind seems to always be on work. Not even in a stressed, overthinking way like you'd expect from yourself. It seemed to be little random tidbits from work infiltrating your mind throughout your days. Like sometimes, you randomly think of a joke James said once. Or you see something funny and want to show it to him. Or you think about how nice James is when you mess something up.

Okay, maybe they're not so random after all.

"What're you thinking about?" James interrupts your thoughts.

Just as you're about to start stammering through an excuse, Mary pops her head into the room.

"There you guys are!" she says, "I just sat you guys. Table six."

"Thanks, Mary. We'll be right there." James responds.

"I had Peter bring them some waters because I couldn't find you guys for a while—oh, he's back today by the way, did you know?" Mary asks, but doesn't stick around for James to answer, "I have to get back. Table six, guys!" Her voice echoes the reminder as she's already disappeared from your sights.

James shakes his head at her, amused by the way she jumps from one thing to the next without taking a breath.

"Peter?" you question as you and James begin to stand from the table.

"Yeah, he does bussing and some food running, a helping hand for us servers, really. He was on vacation." James explains as you follow him out into the dining room.

Your eyes fall on table six, a table for two that beholds two kind looking older ladies.

"You think you can handle this?" James juts his chin in their direction.

"Yeah," you say confidently. You have already taken the lead on some tables while James supervised. So far, it's been going well. Your first table you had to ask James to help answer some questions—maybe that's why you wanted to learn the menu so quick, it made you feel sheepish—but after that one time, James hasn't had any notes.

"Alright, I'm gonna check on our other tables then."

"Wait," you gave yourself whiplash with the way you craned your neck swiftly to look at him, "You meant handle it alone?"

"Yeah," James looks down at you reassuringly, his eyes filled with warmth, "You can do it."

"Uhh-? No, what if I-"

"Get out of that pretty little head of yours," he interrupts, "You've got this."

The sincerity in his tone incited a bit of confidence in you.

"Okay, okay. Okay sure," your shaky voice became a little more steady with each word, and you started walking to the table.

"Wait!" James carefully takes hold of your wrist. The progress you had made in easing your nerves is out the window.

"You'll need this," James slides his server book out from his apron and held it out to you.

"Right," you say quietly, smiling as you took it from him.

His hand fell from your wrist as he bid you good luck. He watches you for a moment as you greet the table, a proud gleam in his eyes.

Marlene appears beside James, a tray of waters and soft drinks balancing on her palm, "Your girl's taking orders on her own now?"

"Just the one table for today," James replies.

Marlene hums approvingly and saunters off to deliver the drinks.

James registers her words only when she's already left, "Wait, my who now?" he asks the wall.

His furrowed brows relax as he decides he kind of likes the sound of it.

After checking on your other tables, getting refills and putting new food orders in, James notices a congregation of his coworkers at the host stand so he decides to join in.

"Who's that?" Peter asks, swinging a rag over his shoulder.

Lily follows Peter's gaze to you, who's delivering some bread and butter to table six.

"James' girl?" Lily questions, "She started last week, she's been doing pretty well so far I think."

"Any reason in particular we're calling her that?" James decides to ask on his approach, having heard that phrase twice in under ten minutes.

"Ah, well, she hardly talks to anyone else." Marlene drawls.

"Eh, she's just a bit skittish," James provides an excuse for you, "it's kind of cute."

Lily and Mary share a look.

James continues, "She'll get used to you guys soon enough, just be nice." He really only says the last part to Marlene.

"I am nice," she defends.

"Well, you're not mean," Mary offers and Marlene scowls at her.

James chuckles, and turns to Peter, "How 'ave you been, mate?"

Peter opens his mouth to share details of his vacation, but he's interrupted.

"What are you all doing up here?" Nate hisses, appearing suddenly as if out of thin air, "You know how bad it looks for nearly my entire staff to be slacking off in the front of the restaurant?"

Before anyone can disperse or defend themselves, Nate continues, "And you're supposed to be training, Potter. Where's your girl?"

"Me?" your choked voice rings from behind him.

Everyone peers over at you, standing there shellshocked and blushing with a pitcher of water in your hands.

[kierahn]

Just had this Idea, yandere perverted chef with a coworker reader

Short drabble

yandere ! chef x waiter ! male reader

warnings:

mention/implication of cannibalism

mention of touching w/ no consent

i'll insert some ideas to expand on this since i've thought of some the moment i read your prompt. i dont want it going to waste ^^

× yan ! chef and a waiter ! darling reader who would always have multiple customers hitting on him everyday. this makes yan ! chef simmer with rage everytime.

× there was a time when a customer touched you inappropriately, and yan ! chef was there to witness it. how dare they touch you so carelessly. he was the only one who could touch you like that.

× in that moment, all he could think of was bloody murder (and maybe a bunch of different menus he can use to cook human meat with).

× as a way to relieve himself of his burning anger, yan ! chef used his charm and exclusive position as the restaurant's head chef to lure the customer into meeting him after work hours with the excuse of cooking up a "special dish" for a "special customer".

× and that was when he striked. knocked the bugger out and dismembered him into tiny little pieces. desperate guys like him were so easy to deceive.

× "y/n," yan ! chef would call you over to the kitchen the next day, and by the time you reach him, he places a plate of cooked meat in front of you. you place the tray that you were holding down on the counter as you eyed the foreign dish.

× "what's this ? trying something new for the menu ?" you ask eagerly. the dish looked so appetizing, and it was cooked just the way you liked it. yan ! chef always knew how to make your dish to your liking. maybe the saying that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach holds some traces of truth in it.

× "no, it's a special dish just for you." yan ! chef says with a slight shrug of his shoulder as he continued to chop away in his wooden cutting board.

× you couldn't say no to an offer like that, so you dug in, and as expected, his food was phenomenal. the spices and flavors stuck to your tongue and blended with each other perfectly.

× but you noticed that the texture of the meat seemed.. off. you couldn't exactly tell what type of meat it was.

× so you peer over yan ! chef's shoulder out of sheer curiosity. the bloody sight that greeted you made your breath hitch. from the first look, you could tell that what he was slicing wasn't pork or beef or any of the meat that most people would usually consume.

× it was a human arm. you were sure of it. with the way the skin was still in tact.

× just as you were about to stop yourself from throwing up right where you stand, the sound of chopping seem to stop. your eyes met; a shiver sent down your spine.

× "did you like it, darling ?"

[tthegoldentouch]

Pairing: Aventurine x Reader

Tags: 2.3k word vomit, fluff , you two celebrate New years together (even tho it's like, Halloween rn lol) I very very loosely referenced omikuji here, because the idea of drawing fortune slips with Mr luck is very tempting to me.

It is the evening of the first day of the trailblaze year when you and Aventurine make your way into the New Year fair in Outerland, walking hand in hand as you pull him along whatever catches your fancy.

Today's events unfolded as a result of a previous conversation you shared with Aventurine a couple of months back. According to you, Qlipoth may have saved the cosmos, but one area where THEY fell short was in establishing a reliable calendar system. Seriously, how come Amber eras are this long? You had a feeling that the IPC deliberately promoted the amber era calendar system to avoid granting too many holidays to their employees.

However, when you presented this "absurd" idea to Aventurine, he laughed at you. "Qlipoth has bigger priorities than worrying about the average salarymen at the IPC taking a day off," he remarked, thoroughly amused. And while you do agree with him, Amber era is still a crazy system to you. It doesn't even have a fixed length, for Aeon's sake!!

Honestly, you much preferred the trailblaze calendar system. It was concise, precise and dare you say— better suited for short-lived species. Your grandmother did not live one complete amber era, but she did live 90 trailblaze years. You'd definitely prefer to speak of her as a 90 years old rather than, well, 1.5 amber era old.

(Or perhaps, you're just accustomed to following the trailblaze calendar like everyone else on your home planet. You still thank every stars that Akivilli decided to visit your planet.)

Regardless of your efforts, you couldn't get your completely logical argument through your boyfriend. Maybe the next step is to create a holographic presentation to demonstrate how the Amber era is an irrational and unsuitable system. But no matter, you can save this debate for another time. Aventurine will still be here, as will your personal conflict with THEM. What's really important is convincing your boyfriend to celebrate the upcoming New Year (trailblaze calendar) with you. You are determined to make him take a day off for that, no matter what. (The idea of enjoying a festival with Aventurine is very appealing.)

Fortunately, he has always been rather weak to you.

And so, You find yourself on a planet you've never been to before, accompanied by your boyfriend who's on the same boat, simply because it's closer than your home planet, and they observe New Year's in a similar way to your customs. you're always a little nervous about visiting new planets, but luckily your boyfriend is reliable enough for you to not have to worry about anything.

Dressed in the customary attire of Outerland, you and your partner stroll hand in hand through the bustling crowd, filled with laughter and conversation, making it, in your opinion, one of the most enjoyable experiences you've shared with Aventurine in at least a year (or, 0.00416 Amber Eras).

....See, Amber era is faaaaaar less romantic. It's evident that Qlipoth has little regard for romance (THEY have none whatsoever.)

The majority of the stalls feature wooden structures adorned with vibrant fabrics and intricate patterns, creating a lively and colorful atmosphere. The scent of the crisp night air mingles with the aromas of spices and grilled foods from the various shops, blending into one harmonious aroma. This scent is accompanied by the lively chatter, laughter, bargaining, and sporadic calls of Outerland names, presumably from their friends and family. Aventurine feels incredibly out of place in this vibrant setting, and he would probably feel even more— if it weren't for your firm grip on his hand. Amidst the lively atmosphere full of love and warmth, he cannot help but hold on to your hand tightly, lest he's forced to confront the depths of his loneliness.

You've already taken him to experience every game at the fair (he's won them all, and you've lost half of them), try a variety of sweet and savory foods (he wonders who you'd have given your half-eaten grilled squid to if he hadn't been there), and choose colorful (and silly) masks to wear together (he rather likes these— people won't recognize him by his eyes this way. For now.)

At the end of the seemingly never-ending line of stalls, right next to the open field, stands a rather unique-looking stall. Your eyes immediately light up in newfound curiousity, tugging him by the cuffs oh his shirt along (he's more focused on switching to lace his fingers with yours to properly look at where you're taking him.)

The stall is bright and lacks the smell of roasted nuts or alcohol, being far away from the food section. Instead of displaying jewelry, clothing, or anything else, the only items on the counter are two similar cylindrical black boxes. Each box has a small hole, indicating that this is likely some sort of lottery device. The shopkeeper greets the two of you with a smile, and Aventurine notices the wooden boxes numbered up to a hundred behind him.

Apparently, this is an Izumo tradition, where people draw lots to learn about their luck for the next year. Aventurine doesn't need a paper slip to tell him how his luck will be next year, he can somewhat predict it.

Within the next twelve trailblaze months, he'll embark on at least two challenging missions, frequent your new favorite sightseeing spot until you're both tired of it, get paired with Ratio in a few missions again, take a trip to your home planet just because you missed your friends (and he'll miss you if you're gone too long), attempt to get Topaz investing in another loss project just for amusement (it's worked twice so far), spend most nights hugging you to sleep, earn at least 5 trillion credits, and fall in love with you more (because it seems ∞ is not the end, not when it comes to his love for you. And he's now got solid proof of why infinity is expandable. Hilbert's infinite hotel paradox makes much more sense now.)

(Cheesy, you'd say. And he'd agree, had it not been him being genuine)

You turn to face Aventurine, adorning a smile on your face. Aventurine recognizes that look, those faux pleading eyes you make when you want him to do something with you. (He doesn't quite understand the purpose because he'd indulge you even without it, but you look cute so he's more than fine with it.)

Your eyes shine, failing the puppy eyes look you're trying so hard to pull off. "Aventurine, can we also check our fortune?" He could have mentioned that he doesn't believe in fortune telling and therefore doesn't see it as worthwhile, but—

It's you. So naturally, he agrees.

You each grab one of the two cylindrical wooden boxes and give them a shake. No, Aventurine gives it a shake, while you shake yours like your life depends on it.

Aventurine laughs before quipping, "I don't think shaking it harder is going to make your draw better, love."

Your shoot him a pout, before shaking the box harder "I know, but i don't care"

If you hadn't been so focused on shaking the wooden box, you would have noticed the affectionate smile on Aventurine's face. Nevertheless, his fondness is evident in his tone when he says, "I really hope this works in your favor."

(You feel a silly, affectionate grin spread across your face, and warmth envelops you.)

Finally, both of you draw a stick and hand it to the storekeeper. He matches the numbers and retrieves a paper slip for each of you. You thank him before leaving to find a quieter spot to check your luck.

Aventurine expects to get good luck, so he's not surprised when the slip reveals 「The highest, excellent fortune」 The subsequent description contains several amusing sentences about what he can expect this year. Phrases like "your wish will be fulfilled", "the person you want to meet the most will come meet you" and "never change your mindset" elicit a slight chuckle from him. He doesn't bother finishing the entire slip because it doesn't apply to him either way.

Wish fulfilled? Fulfilling his wish would signify the end of his luck, and as far as he knows, dead people can't come back to life.

Nevertheless, he proudly displays his slip in front of your eyes, blocking your view of your own slip. You neatly tuck yours away and then glance at his with widened eyes before responding in a deadpan tone, "Why am I even surprised?" The exaggerated monotone voice you're using right now is the funniest thing Aventurine has encountered all day.

"Surprise no surprise~ I told you, I didn't need a paper slip to tell me I'll already have good luck this year"

You huff, folding your arms. "Yeah, right. Good for you, Mr. Lucky," you say, and Aventurine responds with a playful wink.

"What about you? Did all that shaking pay off for you?"

At that, You glance at him and offer a smile, but aventurine is perceptive; he notices the brief hesitation before your smile.

He's known you long enough to know when you're trying to hide something.

"Let me see the slip," he requests, and you uncomfortably avert your gaze. Aventurine appreciates how you never lie to him, but he wishes that meant you were always forthcoming instead of becoming completely silent whenever a situation makes you want to lie. He tries again, and you hesitantly place the little piece of folded paper in his hand.

「Bad fortune」

Even if you attempt to get along with others, it won't succeed.

Try to avoid trouble, as you may end up in peril.

Negative occurrences will happen repeatedly.

*Your desires will not be fulfilled. *Requests you make of others will most likely be denied. *Your future looks bleak, and the bright moon of fortune is obscured by dark clouds.

You try to awkwardly laugh to placate his grim expression. "Come on, it's just a little slip! Neither of us believes this seriously."

However, Aventurine is not willing to take any chances. He'd have laughed it off if he were the one to get bad luck, but it's you. It's you, so he feels somewhat resentful towards the shopkeeper for even putting a bad luck slip there in the first place.

"I won't allow any of that to happen to you," he says firmly, and you blink in surprise before bursting into laughter.

"Haha! You're so adorable! Thank you, I feel very reassured now."

You smile at him, but Aventurine knows you better than you think. Although your spirits may have been lifted for now, you're bound to remember this little piece of paper every time something goes wrong for you in the next year, even if you don't realize it yet. And not like he's particularly happy about this, either.

"Let's swap," he says— no, declares, and hands you his slip. "I have enough luck to handle whatever this slip predicts for me, so you can take it."

"W-what?"

"You can take it. My good luck, and all that comes with it."

Your heart flutters foolishly at that, and a blush inevitably spreads across your face despite the frown on your face. Though Aventurine can't see the blush under the colorful lighting, the look in your eyes is enough for his eyes to light up with delight. But that momentary joy is taken away from him when you try to pull your (now his) slip away from him.

"No- no!! You can't take this!!"

"Why not?"

"Because you're the one who needs it more???" You exclaim, like he's saying the most ridiculous thing ever.

Aventurine scoffs, "You didn't just say that to me. You know my luck never fails me"

"Maybe so," you say as your gaze shifts from his face to his hands, and you gently intertwine your fingers with his. (Aventurine wonders what it would be like to have you do this with him forever.)

"But a bad day for me insinuates like, getting to work late or spilling my drink. But a bad day for you….the stakes are much higher, and I don't want to take that risk. Plus, I'm sure your good fortune will rub on me enough to soften whatever blows life throws at me!"

Ah. You really have a way of making yourself even more lovable, don't you? Aventurine's heart tightens in his chest, and briefly drifts into a daydream, imagining how he would have loved to share today's events with his late sister.

("Can you believe it?" He'd tell his sister, "they told me that my luck would improve theirs too, just like you.")

(His sister would have laughed in response, and advised him how he needs to stop telling her about every little thing you do. But she'd be happy too, he knows she would.)

Aventurine's daydream is interrupted as your fingers attempt to open his clenched fist to retrieve the slip. He quickly hides his fist behind his back and gives you a charming smile. "No matter how hard you try, I will never, and I mean never, let you have this,"

After several more failed attempts, you give up. "Alright," you reluctantly concede. "Since you're willing to bear my share of misfortune, let me express my gratitude properly." Aventurine blinks, before he's met with your intense eyes. "Aventurine, thank you for being so kind to me," you say, almost causing him to look away, anything to avoid seeing that sincere and fond expression directed at him.

(He'd gladly take away all your sufferings so long as you continue to smile.)

But your earnest gratitude needs to be met with a proper response, so he smiles and ruffles your hair. "Think I'm gonna need a little more than a thank you." You huff, but pull him closer to your lips.

He had never thought that cotton candy was the sweetest thing in the world until he tasted them on your lips.

[jitterbugjive]

Want a super unique commission with a fun flavor experience to have forever? I'm extremely passionate about tea, and have been testing custom blends on Adagio Teas for years. Having just recently released a set of My Magic Grandpa inspired blends with more to come, I figured people might be interested in having custom loose leaf blends made for their characters, preferences, or topic of choice.

Please note, you are buying a custom recipe from me. You will have to make an account on Adagio to create the blend for yourself to order as a $6 sample or more if you like. The $6 samples come in customizable collectable tins, and you must make a label for them to order the tea. I can offer to make a label as well, just note they are small and need to be JPG so they won't cost much. These tins are great for storing other small things whenever you're done with your tea. Blends and Tin Label art will be given priority in my commission queue.

I am more than willing to help explain how to use Adagio Teas if need be, as it can be a little confusing at first.

PRICING:

Blend: $5 - Will be customized until customer satisfaction no extra charge (Max of 6 adjustments before extra fee of $1 per change)

Tin Label: $3-$25 (Added to Blend cost)

Just text and basic colors: $3

Text+Graphic of Tea Ingredients: $5

Character Head+Text: $10

Char Head+Text+Ingredients: $15

Char Torso+Text: $20

Char Torso+Text+Ingredients: $25

Taste Test: $9 - If you want me to do a taste test of your blend you would need to pay for the sample and shipping for me to order.

With a taste test I will give tips on the best additives to bring out specific flavors, and I can make any adjustments that might need to be made to the tea. I can do up to 3 taste tests, but each one would need to be paid for. It might be better for you to get a sample of the blend for yourself and ask for suggestions for adjustments if it's not to your liking. I will not charge extra to make adjustments after you taste test your tea unless you've already maxed out on 6 adjustments.

Research Fee: Starts at $5 - If you want me to more thoroughly acquaint myself with the theme you chose for your tea, such as reading a good chunk of a comic or story in order to better understand what you want, there would have to be an extra fee depending on how much research is needed.

Commission Form:

Flavor Preferences: (Type of tea, fruits, herbs, floral, spices, etc)

Flavors to Avoid: (Things you would not want in your tea)

Caffeine Level: (None/Low/Medium/High)

Inspiration: (Choose a theme, your flavor preferences, or a character to base the tea on. Please describe these as best as you can, things like character personalities and references help)

Tin Label?: (Yes/No, if Yes, give instructions and references if needed)

Send an email to jitterbugcommissions@gmail.com to order a blend recipe!

Example of how a blend recipe will look when I send it to you:

[inbetweenknacksandnooks]

What HSR Girls Smell Like Pt. 2

Part 1 (Asta, Himeko, March 7th and Stelle)

Part 3 (Bronya, Serval, Natasha, Seele)

(Ft. : Kafka, Firefly, Topaz, Jade)

Kafka

Her aroma aura is extremely potent and powerful. It's easy to get headaches from, and to get dazed and drown in.

I think most of this is because she experiments with perfumes a lot.

If it's early into your relationship, she definitely coats herself in every single overwhelming spray she has, just to see your reaction, and if you'll ask her to tone it down or express annoyance and get a headache (she 100% will push your buttons early in a relationship! You better set boundaries you lunatic!)

If it gets to the point where this woman cares about you and she notices you're starting to have anxiety, depression, or you're generally down, she'll put on scents that are said to help with those from aromatherapists.

She doesn't believe that it's real.

But just in case it is she definitely buries herself in it.

Every day she'd try on a different scent that is said to help out your angst. Focused lavender one day, jasmine the next, chamomile, sandalwood, etc...

Firefly

As we've seen from Jade's Pawn Shop event, fire-baby, though pretty dang poor, wants to appreciate life, and what it has to offer. She wants to be a normal girl.

She doesn't buy expensive scents and perfumes, just general ones.

She loves to test them out on you to see your reaction to each.

If you two are up for some spice, she places "sexy" scents on her lower back (chocolate, patchouli, cinnamon, figs...) on her lower back, so that when she strips it's wafts over the warm sheets (which she learned courtesy of Kafka, who's been wing-woman-ing her).

If she finds perfume out and about, especially if it's affordable, there's a high-chance she'll buy it.

Topaz

Numby.

She rubs herself up on, and cuddles the little Trotter so much that it's now become embedded into her skin.

This isn't all bad, really! Numby smells kind of like wild bushes and refreshing leaves.

Also, there's this plant called aster, that's basically like trotter catnip. It's supposed to smell like caramelized honey. While it's toxic when consumed, Topaz absolutely has it as a little fragrance bottle.

She mostly sought it out to see if she could get Numby to have the aster-high without the actual plant being around if Numby ever wanted it, that way there's no risk of a dead trotter!

Though... if you wanted her to wear it for your own high, she wouldn't object...

Jade

In her pawnshop she smells more... comforting, or at least blends more into the background. Maybe has a similar smell to green tea when she wants to reel in certain customers.

Otherwise, she has a darkly-bitter smell to her while working. Something cold, and subtle that you can only smell when she's right above you. Something you can only smell when it's too late to run.

[frozenfries]

Cozy Café : A VALORANT Headcanon

It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written for this game, but inspiration struck at a random time. This totally hasn’t been sitting in my drafts since last January

Prompt: If the agents worked at a café, what would their roles and/or signature drink be?

Amidst the chaos of battle, a quaint café stands as a sanctuary for the weary agents. Here, they can take refuge from their high-stakes duels, and trade their weapons for aprons to pursue a different kind of mission: the art of brewing the perfect cup of coffee.

Phoenix: with his vibrant personality and quick reflexes, he’s the charismatic face of the café. Entertaining customers with his barista skills comes naturally as he conjures up dazzling coffee concoctions with a flair of his hand, a burst of flame and a confident grin. His signature drink, The Ignition Latte, is a fiery blend that invigorates even the most exhausted of patrons. Jett: agile on and off the battlefield, she brings her lightning-fast speed and precision to the café. With a swift motion of her finger, she effortlessly crafts delicate latte art, transforming each cup into its own masterpiece. Her Cloud Burst Cappuccino is a smooth delight, creating a moment of feather-light happiness for those who drink it. Viper: the formidable chemist brings her scientific expertise to the world of coffee. With a touch of her gloved hand, she infuses her creations with unique flavors and aromas, leaving customers in awe. Her Venomous Mocha is a mysterious blend that tantalizes the taste buds and leaves a lingering, addictive aftertaste. Sage: with her nurturing personality and herbal knowledge, she adds a touch of serenity to the café and its menu. Her Rejuvenation Tea is a calming infusion that restores both body and mind, providing a moment of tranquility amidst the chaos of everyday. Omen: ever the enigma, he brings an air of mystery to the café. With a flick of his wrist, he conjures up ethereal and smoky concoctions, leaving people wondering how he manages to capture such unique flavors. His Shadowy Cold Brew is a chilling experience that takes customers on a journey through darkness and light. KAY/O: the robotic agent assists in the day-to-day operations of the café, precisely measuring ingredients, ensuring efficiency, and maintaining the coffee shop's cutting-edge technology. KAY/O's presence adds a futuristic touch to the atmosphere, making customers feel like they've stepped into a realm where man and machine coexist harmoniously. Sova: a master archer, you can find him behind the counter carefully crafting his signature drink, The Tracker's Shot: a potent blend of espresso and a hint of blueberry syrup, topped with a delicate foam art of a wolf's paw print. Sova takes great pride in his creation, often using it as a conversation starter with customers, enthralling them with tales of his adventures in the wilderness. Cypher: the watchful surveillance expert provides security for the establishment. He has a keen eye for detail, which translates seamlessly into his signature drink, The Watchful Eye Latte: a meticulous combination of steamed milk, a shot of espresso, and a dash of vanilla spice syrup, served with a meticulous swirl of latte art depicting an intricate camera lens.

Chamber: the polished agent with a mysterious past has a taste for the unconventional, which is reflected in his signature creation, The Trademark Mocha: a rich concoction of dark chocolate, a double shot of espresso, and a hint of cinnamon, sprinkled with a dash of edible gold glitter that gives it an otherworldly shimmer.

Astra: with the ability to infuse her cosmic energy into any environment, she can elevate even a simple drink into an otherworldly experience. The Celestial Brew starts with a base of rich, smooth espresso, followed by a fusion of steamed milk and vanilla syrup, creating a swirling galaxy effect. To top it off is a dollop of homemade lavender-infused whipped cream, a touch of stardust and a sprinkle of edible glitter.

[adinathindia]

A Beginner’s Guide to Custom Spice Blends

Above all you need to know that creating custom spice blends is an amazing journey that can greatly elevate your cooking. By understanding the basics of spice selection and grinding you can come up with blends that perfectly align with your taste and also improve your dishes to a great extent.

[successseasonings]

Spice up your food with your own custom spice blend

In the culinary arts, making and using customised spice blends fosters creativity and uniqueness. Seasonings, herbs, and spice have the power to elevate ordinary foods into amazing culinary artwork, as experienced by both unprofessional cooks and trained chefs. Customised spice mixes are far more than just spice; they're aromatic works of art that combine cultural influences, culinary know-how, and personal tastes. Custom mixes like these enable a distinctive flavour expression that embodies individual creativity and a variety of culinary traditions. Cooks can create unique flavours that are a reflection of their cultural background and personal flair by experimenting with different combinations. This strategy not only improves the eating experience but also encourages a closer relationship with the products and customs that influence our food culture. Read More

[davenswitcher]

Mortal Delights

Word Count: 990

Ship: Astarion x Tav

Tags: Cured Astarion, experiencing food after 200 years

Rating: No warnings, General Audiences

Originally posted on AO3

A/N:

Ram Berries: Small, succulent purple berries.

Davalsa: Grape like berrys

Sortani: A rinded fruit; served sliced with melted cheese and nutmeg.

Aaaand you know me! Gotta squeeze that lovely elvish in there ❤️❤️ Sal aestar - I love you

His first meal as a mortal was something simple. Nothing too fancy to not overwhelm his taste buds. On the other hand, after two hundred years even asparagus would taste as if the gods themselves made love to you. Luckily it's just the entrée, so plenty of food left to savour and commit to memory. 

The entrée consists of a red beet carpaccio with goat crème cheese and balsamic crème-sauce. Sprinkled over the carpaccio are pomegranate kernels. 

Astarion is blindfolded to intensify his experience, but also so that he wouldn’t judge the food before tasting it. Because the gods know he would judge the food if it looked like something from a dingy tavern. They hired a private cook, but you never know.

The first bite is a mix of everything. Red beet, goat crème cheese, pomegranate kernels and balsamic. It’s a symphony. The rich and heady balsamic paired with the sweet pomegranate, topped off with the sweet and earthy red beet and heavy taste of goat crème cheese. It’s extraordinary. A combination rarely thought of but works well in a divine way. It feels like an explosion of flavours. Like firecrackers on New Year's Eve.

Astarion hums in satisfaction. “Good gods, I forgot how divine food can be.”

“Not getting religious on me, are you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, my darling. The only religion I subscribe to is you and your delicious self.”

“I thought we were over this, Astarion,” Cecillé giggles.

“Never,” Astarion grins.

“Shall we get to the main course? Or do you want to have more of the carpaccio?”

“I want to try everything the cook has in store, it’s a long evening after all! Let’s get to the main course, my sweet.”

The main course is a variety of grilled vegetables sprinkled with honey, a small cut of elk steak and salmon filet, a green pepper sauce for the steak and a honey mustard sauce for the fish. The fish and elk steak lay separate on the plate, so the sauces don’t mix. As a side dish, the cook chose a fruit salad. A mix of apples, ram berries, davalsa, kiwi and red grapes. Another side dish they prepared is Sortani. The fruit is sliced, served with melted cheese and nutmeg. As drinks, they have sparkling water from the mountains and Saerloonian Glowfire.

The blend of bitter, slightly sour and sweet is exquisite. The combination of the steak with the pepper sauce and a slice of grilled vegetable are in perfect harmony. The Sortani side dish is perfectly sweet and savoury at the same time. The cheese and the sweet nectar of the fruit complete each other. The nutmeg gives it the needed spice. The flavours dancing on his tongue.

Saerloonian Glowfire is a fairly sweet white wine. The taste reminding of pears. A tasteful medley to the dish.

The salmon is rich in buttery flavour, the sauce complementing it and enhancing the taste. The grilled vegetables are a contrast to it. Bitter and sweet, yet with a hint of a light earthiness. Overall delightful.

“My compliments to the chef, darling. Who would’ve thought I’d turn into a connoisseur. Although, I’m sure my taste before was just as exquisite. I remember the calamari at Elfsong. Odd, isn’t it? Remembering something so…mundane?”

“Not odd, no. Taste is a very important factor in memory, Star. And who knows, maybe the chef that worked there back then made it his life's work to serve the best dish he can make for each customer.”

“Novel, really. So, after all this delicious food there must be a dessert or is it you, my sweet?” Astarion takes the blindfold off, getting tired not to see his love.

“You won’t give up, will you?” Cecillé laughs.

“Nope, never. Being mortal means not just feeding my body with this exquisite sustenance, but also filling my soul with your love.”

“Gods, Astarion. You should’ve become a bard, not a politician.”

“Hmm, maybe. But those words are reserved just for you. Making you quiver, and therefore make me eat you right up,” he delights in her face and ears getting redder by the second.

“Chef! It’s time for dessert!” Cecillé squeaks and Astarion laughs unapologetic.

The final course, the dessert, is a rich chocolate mousse with two slices of orange on top. There are different bowls to choose from: dark chocolate, milk chocolate and the very exotic white chocolate. The white chocolate mousse is topped with strawberries instead of orange, to complement the sweet, slightly buttery with a touch of vanilla composition.

The taste of the dark chocolate is rich in flavour, heavy even. The orange brings a fruity, lightly sour and sweet balance into it. The taste is one word: divine. The mousse itself is light despite the heavy aroma.

Astarion moans at the taste and hastily corrects himself with a cough.

“Pardon me,” he says, a little embarrassed.

“Better than sex?” Cecillé teases.

“Gods no, woman, but close I admit,” he chuckles. “The chef did a wonderful job.”

“Glad I was correct with the assumption you’ll love it.”

The next bowl is the milk chocolate version of the mousse. Not as heavy as the dark chocolate. It’s sweet, notes of vanilla and caramelized sugar. The milk being more at the foreground in the taste. The orange slices counterbalance the sweetness with their fruity flavour.

Lastly, the white chocolate mousse. Very sweet, hints of vanilla and a buttery aftertaste. The strawberries bring a lightness to it and enrich the slightly buttery aftertaste. It has a “summer-esque” feel to it. 

“And? How’re you feeling?”

“Full and happy and I cannot believe still that it’s real.”

Cecillé gets up and sits down in his lap. Kissing the crown of his head. 

“You deserve it, Star. And I am so happy for you. Truly.”

She kisses his lips, the taste of chocolate still prominent.

“You’re strong and brave, Star. Sal aestar.”

He nuzzles her neck, “Sal aestar.”

[mymagicgrandpabonus]

My Magic Grandpa teas are here! The tea goal has been unlocked on patreon and so finally, you all can enjoy these blends that were lovingly crafted together with inspiration from various My Magic Grandpa characters! All of these teas have been personally tested and adjusted to bring out the ideal flavors, with suggestions for additives in the info of each blend.

There are 6 blends right now, and more to come! If you get Suzie's mom and dad as a pair, you get 10% off! You can also get a sample box of all 6 blends or whatever six you want in the future when there are more!

A sample tin is just $6 and will yield you 5 cups of tea! The tins are very nice as collector's items as well, and you can get either small tins or large tins.

Here is where you can find the My Magic Grandpa fandom tea blend set:

My favorites include Coach's Fruity Mint Zing and Pandora's Box, mint and fruit are a lovely combo and the chili peppers in Pandora's Box make the tea a unique mouth experience mixed with a lot of other flavors that are chaotic but pleasant. And if you're looking for an autumn flavor, The Reaper's Cabin is a nice spiced tea that makes you think of the holidays in a cozy cabin.

[kanerallels]

If You Could Read My Mind, Love, What A Tale My Thoughts Could Tell

My first contribution to @kaneraweek!! Shoutout to @singswan-springswan for helping me come up with this au

Taglist: @accidental-spice @day-to-day-thots @auroramagpie @opalknight @ana-cantskywalker @cassie-fanfics @nyxlotl (DM me if you want to be added or removed from the tag list!)

Read on AO3!

Hera had known that blending in with humans would be difficult—and it was, for the most part. Avoiding iron, dancing around where societal conventions and the laws of the fae clashed, and just not knowing a lot of simple things combined to make life potentially awkward or painful.

But it was also…beautiful. Watching the lives of humans, who were so different from her people. Building her own life, such as it was. Running a business turned out to be simple in comparison to other issues she dealt with.

The coffee shop had been a longstanding cover for faeries in the area, and it had been more than one business over the years. Most recently, a restaurant, abandoned quickly when the faerie in question had completed their goal in the area. Hera, along with Zeb, her self appointed guardian who was far too paranoid about what all the humans were up to, had moved almost five years ago now. And to her surprise, they’d been able to make a profit.

Which was good, considering Hera had no idea when she was going to leave.

She’d had an original goal when she came here. Getting back the passkey she’d left behind when she’d come here seven years ago. It had taken her far too long to realize where she left it behind. Hera had always hated to be confined solely to the Other World. She simply wasn’t built to stay in one place forever, not when there was so much to see out there. So she’d developed a habit of slipping through the veil, visiting far off places and exploring a little. It was easy enough, with the passkey to guide her to nearby portals home and unlock them, if necessary.

But of course it was here. Lothal was an ancestral home for her people, to the degree that the passkey was barely necessary. And the night she’d come here to visit had been…eventful, to say the least.

That was the first and only time she’d ever been spotted by a human. Animals, sure. Even other faeries on occasion. But Hera had never been seen by a human, until Kanan Jarrus.

She hadn’t known his name at the time, of course, let alone anything about him. But now…she knew him. And he knew her, almost too well.

It would have scared her if it hadn’t thrilled her.

“Hera!”

Zeb’s gruff voice cut through her daydreaming, and Hera looked up from the counter she’d been wiping down. Nodding towards the door, the massive man—though technically, he wasn’t. Human, that is—said, “Customers on the way. Pretty sure it’s one of your favorites.”

“Thanks,” Hera said, ignoring his look of disdain. Zeb pretended not to like the humans, and for the most part, he didn’t. But Hera knew there were a few he had a soft spot for, whether he acknowledged it or not.

Ducking into the kitchen, she checked on the coffee—still fresh—and poured it into a to-go cup. After adding the cream, she started heating milk for hot chocolate. This took a little more maneuvering—the pot was made of steel, not straight iron, which helped. But she preferred to be careful when she could be. There was already a burn on her palm from her last brush with iron, and Hera really didn’t want more injuries than she could help.

The bell at the top of the door jingled cheerfully, and she heard familiar voices out front. Ezra was cheerfully heckling Zeb, as he usually did, and Zeb growled something unfriendly in response. And then there was Kanan’s voice, steady and deep, calmly mediating. Hera’s heart skipped a beat at the sound.

Don’t be silly, she scolded herself as she whisked the ingredients of the hot cocoa into the pot. He’s a customer, a friend at best—and most importantly, a human. Your heart shouldn’t be focusing on him.

Setting aside the whisk, she grabbed the to-go cup full of coffee and headed out front.

Kanan was sitting at the counter, watching Zeb and Ezra bickering. He glanced up at the sound of her footsteps, and a smile spread across his face. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Hera said, sliding him the cup, and his grin widened.

“How do you always know?”

“It wouldn’t be any fun if I gave away the secret,” she told him, leaning against the counter. “Ezra’s hot chocolate will be ready any minute.”

Shaking his head as he took a sip of his coffee, Kanan said, “One of these days you’re gonna have to tell me how you know we’re coming.”

“Magic,” Hera deadpanned, and he laughed.

“I almost believe that.”

That was the problem with Kanan. Hera never really knew if he did believe her when she made jokes that weren’t really jokes. He laughed at her jokes, those included. But there was always something that made her wonder, does he know?

He couldn’t. They’d met first seven years ago—a blink of an eye for her, but a long time for humans—and she’d looked nothing like she did not. There was no way he could know, and that was a good thing. The truth about who she was had to remain a secret.

“Hey, are you busy tonight?”

Kanan’s question snapped Hera out of her thoughts, and she looked up at him, surprise flashing through her. “What? Why?”

“I was thinking about how you seem to not know any of the best movies out there,” Kanan explained. “Figured we should fix that. Ezra’s going over to a friend’s house, so you could come over, we could try a few movies—popcorn and snacks guaranteed. What do you think?”

Oh. Hera hesitated, indecision tugging at her chest. “I…don’t know,” she said slowly. What if he finds out? Spending time in close quarters with a guy who may or may not actually know that she was a faerie seemed like a bad idea at the best of times. With Kanan…she couldn’t tell if the fluttering in her stomach was nervousness or excitement at the prospect.

“Hey, no pressure,” Kanan told her. “Just think about it and get back to me. In the meantime, what are the odds we can get some baked goods to go with that hot chocolate?”

The hot chocolate! “Absolutely,” Hera said, turning to head for the kitchen. “Just give me one minute.”

She ducked back into the kitchen, quickly checking the pot she’d left to heat up. Thankfully, she hadn’t been gone long enough for it to start boiling, but it was already heated to the perfect temperature. Carefully, Hera filled a to-go cup, added a few mini marshmallows and a dash of cinnamon, and headed back out of the kitchen.

Ezra had joined Kanan at this point, and his gaze lit up at the sight of her. “Hey, Hera!” he said, scrambling up onto a stool. “Can I have—”

“Hot cocoa, mini marshmallows, cinnamon?” Hera finished, handing him the cup. “Of course.”

Grinning, Ezra said, “You’re awesome, Hera. Thanks.”

“Agreed,” Kanan said, digging through his pockets for a minute before locating his wallet. “Add on a couple of chocolate croissants, and how much do we owe you?”

“About twenty bucks,” Hera said. Or…this is definitely a bad idea. But when has that ever stopped me? “I’ll give you a discount if there’s dinner with that movie tonight, though.”

Kanan’s gaze flashed up to her, and a slow, delighted grin crossed his face. “Sounds like a plan. Should I pick you up?”

Shaking her head, Hera said, “I know the way to your house, dear. What time?”

“Ezra should be leaving around five thirty, so…six?”

“Six sounds good,” Hera said as the bell over the door jingled. “I’ll see you then.”

Sliding her a twenty dollar bill, Kanan said, “See you then, Hera.”

She rang him up quickly, ignoring Zeb’s side eye as he helped the other customers. By the time they were finished, Kanan and Ezra were long gone.

However, that didn’t prevent Zeb from saying, “Tell me you’re not actually going on a date with that guy.”

Rolling her eyes, Hera said, “It’s not a date, Zeb. We’re just seeing a few movies and having dinner.”

“Right. Last I checked, that is the exact definition of a date,” Zeb pointed out. “Look—I like him well enough for a human, but it’s a bad idea.”

“Well, then, it’s a good thing this isn’t a date,” Hera said, and promptly received a deeply skeptical look from him. “It’s not! We’re just friends, and that’s always been clear.”

Sure, he’d flirted a little when they first met, but Hera had made it very clear where they stood, and he’d respected that. Since then, their relationship had changed. Deepened into a real friendship.

Kanan was one of the people she cared about most, in this world or the Other. And truthfully, she was starting to think that she didn’t know what her life would look like without him.

But that didn’t mean this was a date. It didn’t. So Hera firmly put the idea out of her head, and kept working.

The rest of the day slipped by quickly enough, and before she knew it Hera was leaving the coffee shop in Zeb’s capable hands—they really did need to hire more employees, though where they’d find some who were willing to overlook the quirks of two fae pretending to be humans, she didn’t know—and slipping into the apartment she kept above it to change into something a little nicer.

Not date level nicer, obviously. Just a soft, dark blue sweater to keep out the autumnal chill, and clean pants. Pulling her hair out of the dual braids she wore for work, Hera wrapped it back with a green scarf and headed out of the door.

She walked, obviously. It was only a few miles to Kanan’s place from hers, and she didn’t have a car. Though there was a tiny, very un-faerieish part of her that wished she could drive one. The massive machines were fascinating to her, even if touching one could be incredibly painful. But she didn’t go enough places to even pretend to need one, and it was probably better in the long run.

Kanan was waiting for her on the front porch of his massive, slightly run down house when she got there. Hera still wasn’t quite sure what a human with one kid and a grandfather who only occasionally visited was doing with a three story dump like this, but she knew better than to question Kanan’s lack of logic at this point.

“I could have picked you up,” he said. “You wouldn’t have had to walk that far, and it’s getting cold out.”

Hera shook her head, heading up the steps of the porch. “I like walking. And it’s not that cold.” Which wasn’t exactly true—her hands were already ice cold, and she’d been able to see wisps of her breath here and there on the walk in.

Snorting, Kanan said, “Well, that’s a blatant lie. Come on, let’s get you something warm. I can make you coffee.”

Hera laughed. “I don’t actually think you know how to make coffee, dear.”

“Rude,” Kanan responded as they headed into the house. The interior was warmly lit and smelled like something savory and delicious, and Hera was already glad she’d suggested dinner. “How do you think I have coffee when I don’t show up at your shop?”

He led the way into the kitchen, which was painted bright yellow. Hera suspected it was a compromise from when Ezra had suggested orange, knowing the boy as she did. Luckily, it gave the whole place a warm, welcoming feel, and she couldn’t help but be fond of it. Bright colors appealed to the fae, even at their most elegant and refined.

“Are there times when you don’t come to the shop?” she asked Kanan, lifting a very skeptical eyebrow.

Grinning a little, Kanan admitted, “Not really.”

“I figured. Get out the coffee,” Hera commanded, heading for the coffee machine. She’d become pretty adept at working the various machines, and the one at Kanan’s place was as simple as they came. She worked on making the coffee as Kanan pulled the oven open. A wave of the same spicy, savory smell washed out and Hera nearly swooned.

“What is that?” she asked as Kanan examined the dish in the oven.”

“Birria,” Kanan responded, closing the oven. “And it should be ready soon. Seems like it turned out pretty well.”

Frowning, Hera said, “Didn’t you tell me that this takes a lot of prep? And it’s not exactly the kind of meal you’d make for one?”

“Possibly,” Kanan said with an expression that utterly failed to be innocent. “I might have made it with the hopes that you’d be here for dinner. And if you weren’t, you’d get leftovers eventually. Force knows someone needs to feed you—Zeb and the local takeout places can’t be solely responsible for you.”

Rolling her eyes as she pulled a mug out of the cupboard to her left, Hera said, “I’m going to choose to thank you for that instead of taking it as an insult.”

“I would never dream of insulting you, Hera,” Kanan said, accepting the mug of coffee Hera passed him. “Hey—what happened to your hand?”

“What?”

“Your hand,” Kanan repeated, setting his coffee aside and catching hold of her hand before Hera realized what he was doing. Turning it over, he traced a gentle finger over the raised burn on her palm, so light she barely felt it. Hera felt her stomach do a decidedly not unpleasant flip at the touch. Looking up, he raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t try cooking again, did you?”

“Ha,” Hera deadpanned, trying to cover the relief she felt at the joke. It pushed aside a little of the way she felt, with his hand cradling hers and that concerned look in his eyes. Pulling her hand back, she said, “No, I just burned it working. Hazards of the trade.”

It wasn’t like she could tell him that it was from a cast iron pan she’d touched in a store. She hadn’t realized what it was until it was too late, and had barely managed to restrain her gasp of pain. There were salves that soothed iron burns, but fae healing magic didn’t affect that kind of injury. Hera would just have to wait for it to heal like any human.

She couldn’t tell if Kanan believed her excuse or not, so she quickly changed the subject. “Is there anything I can do to help with dinner?”

That brought a grin to Kanan’s face. “Not a chance. You already made coffee—drink some of that and tell me about your day, and that’s enough for me.”

“Not exactly very helpful,” Hera said, taking a seat at the kitchen table anyways and curling her hands around her mug, enjoying the warmth seeping into her fingers. Though it wasn’t much of a replacement for Kanan’s hand around hers.

Enough, she scolded herself, pushing the thought away.

“It’s helpful to me,” Kanan assured her, leaning against the counter. “And it’s mostly a waiting game at this point.”

“Fair enough.” Gathering her thoughts, Hera began to recount some of the events of the day, telling Kanan about the customers who’d stopped in. Most of them had been there a thousand times, but in a small town like Lothal, there was always something new and occasionally crazy going on.

Kanan was a good listener—he asked the right questions, laughed at the right parts. Hera always found herself relaxing in his presence, sharing things she wouldn’t share with anyone else.

It was dangerous. But she couldn’t bring herself to turn away from it.

Dinner was ready in short order, and they feasted on the incredible dish. Kanan’s cooking was always fabulous, and this was no exception. Hera relished every savory, spice-rich bite, and didn’t hesitate to have seconds.

When they’d finished, and she’d helped him tidy up in the kitchen, despite his protests, they headed into the living room, where Hera settled on the couch while Kanan flipped through the DVD collection. “Let’s see,” he mused aloud. “You’ve seen The Princess Bride?”

“Thanks to your never ending rants about it,” Hera said wryly. When she’d first met Kanan, it had become obvious that she had some serious gaps in her knowledge about human life, and she’d done a lot of research. Most of it in the form of watching some of the many movies he’d been horrified to learn she hadn’t seen, and a few extras. 

There were still plenty she hadn’t seen, however, and it wasn’t long before Kanan found one. “Really?” he said, popping in the dish and heading over to drop onto the couch next to her. “You’ve never seen The Mummy?”

“Are we really going to have this conversation again?” Hera returned, and Kanan laughed.

“Fair point.”

They settled in to enjoy the movie, and Hera did, to her surprise. Though she shouldn’t have been—Kanan had good taste, for the most part.  Watching them with him was a new experience, but she liked being able to argue about plot points and joke about parts of the movie with him.

When the first film ended, Kanan put in the sequel—undeniably poorer writing, but equally fun—and made them popcorn. It was late when they finished it, but Kanan managed to convince Hera to start some natural disaster movie that he insisted was a classic.

Classic and fun it may have been, but Hera felt her eyes sliding shut only a little ways in. She jerked awake, suddenly and painfully aware that she’d fallen asleep for a little while.

Lifting a hand to rub the sleep out of her eyes, she registered the weight of something heavy and warm against her shoulder. Glancing to the side, Hera’s eyes widened a little at the sight of Kanan, fast asleep.

It was strange to see him this way. Usually he was so self possessed and confident, upbeat and snarky. Seeing him asleep, hair slipping free of its usual tie, felt…vulnerable.

Almost without knowing why, Hera reached forward and brushed a loose lock of his hair out of his face. Her fingers stilled, tracing along his cheekbone as she studied him, heart beating fast without any real reason.

And then she saw the cord around his neck. The necklace he always wore, keeping it tucked under his shirt. She’d never asked, and he’d never brought it up. But now, slumped to the side like he was, it had slipped out.

It was the passkey.

The blue crystal shimmered even in the dim light, and Hera stared, shocked. She’d suspected, of course, but…He had it all this time?

Why?

It couldn’t be because…no. There was no way.

She lifted her hand, reaching out to touch the passkey. She could take it now and leave, before he even knew what had happened.

Instead, Hera tucked it back out of sight, closed her eyes, and let her head rest against his. When he finally moved again, waking at a loud sound from the TV, she was fast asleep. She didn’t even feel him tuck a blanket around her and settle in to finish the movie, arm resting around her for just a second too long to be anything resembling casual.

No, Hera simply slept, and dreamed, and she would wake the next morning at peace for reasons she couldn’t even fully explain yet.

[nakedcows]

Hello! I gotta request. I love Aemond as many of the girlies do. But I never find fics for the plus size girls. I’m a firm believer that Aemond would like a plus size woman. When you have a moment of time I’d love to see a plus size reader x Aemond type fic. Of course I’d be here for some spice too. I’d just really like to see more representation ☺️ thank you for your time and I hope you have a wonderful day!

A/N: I'm terribly sorry for the delay. I had a draft ready that didn't save so my inspiration took a big hit. I haven't thought about it before, but now that you say it I do think Aemond would lean more toward plus sized women. I can't explain why i just feel like it falls inline with his character. Thank you for your request!!

summary: Aemond gifts Y/n new clothes that inspire her to take the lead tonight

warnings: smut p n v, slight degrading (not of the reader), body shaming (it's not very much don't worry), sub Aemond

Word count 1.4k

Y/n was entranced by the stranger staring back at her in the mirror. The woman standing in her mirror resembled the fair ladies from books she had read as a girl. Ones where brave knights fight to the death and love-struck monarchs conquer kingdoms for the chance to embrace their true love.

The emerald green dress she wore had no sleeves and hung off her shoulders. Y/n was not used to dressing in such a manner she had become accustomed to frumpy, loose fitted clothing that hid her figure. Y/n’s mother had insisted that despite the high ranking of their house, it was imperative to hide the plump figure she had inherited from her to guarantee proposals from the lords of the court. However, her dear Aemond had thought otherwise. He began to court Y/n and questioned why a lady of her rank wore such ill-fitting clothing. After Y/n had confided in Aemond about her mother's advice, he disposed of her dresses and commissioned a new wardrobe of custom-made dresses with matching jewelry for his love. Y/n admired her newfound figure and how her bodice hugged her thick waist instead of hanging loosely. Layers of skirt gracefully laid against her wide hips complimented with embroidery. The mousy-looking girl had disappeared under hair tied in intricate braids decorated with rare jewels and a beauteous dress accentuating her curved figure. Y/n always felt as though she was meant to be invisible, to blend into the background unnoticed and unmentioned unless she was needed. But now, with her full body glittering in the open free to be seen, she felt confident.  

“You are enchanting, my love,” Aemond said. He had briefly left for Y/n to dress and retrieve the final piece to her ensemble. Aemond stood behind her, unable to break his gaze from her captivating, newfound appearance.   

Aemond delicately clasped a sapphire necklace cut from the same gem in his eye.   

“What do you think, dear heart?” he asked as his hands drifted from Y/n’s neck to her shoulders  

“I think it’s... perfect,” she said, gliding her hands under her plump chest. “I look perfect.” Y/n smiled brightly at her reflection. The rush of finally recognizing the glowing beauty in her mirror was the same modestly dressed woman that she saw a few hours ago.  Y/n felt invincible at this moment she could do anything, say anything and the surefooted woman in her mirror would protect her from fear and persecution with a glance. She turned to Aemond with a new vigor. It was an unfamiliar feeling that bubbled in her core and climbed up to her chest. Aemond had always taken the lead. He led when they held hands when they kissed, and he led when they were intimate. But tonight, she would take command. Y/n grabbed the back of Aemond’s head greedily, pulling him flush against her body for a languid kiss. Aemond grinned into the kiss, stroking her rounded hips, causing the sensation in her core to swell. Y/n slowly pulled from him. Her whole body felt as though someone had set aflame her from the inside.   

“You promised me once that you would do anything for me. I need only ask. Is that still true? Y/n asked, meeting his eyes.   

“Of course, my dear,” the fingers on his neck glided into his hair to stroke his scalp.   

“Then get on your knees for me,” Y/n’s light stroking turned into a tight grip as she yanked Aemond’s head back by his hair.  Aemond breath hitched from the sudden tension on his scalp. Y/n had never done this before yet as he prostrated himself before her the hand in his hair leading him to kneel, he felt the blood rushing to his cock.  

“What do you wish of me Y/n?”  

“Hmm I don’t think using my name suits you very well my dear,” she said smirking.  

“Oh?”  

“No, you are a proper gentleman are you not? Then you should refer to me like one. I think ‘My lady’ will do for now, don’t you?” Aemond felt his breeches tighten as she leaned in and paused just before their lips met.  

“Answer me Aemond.”  

“Yes, my lady,” Y/n closed the gap between them, devouring his lips. Aemond could hear his heart pounding as his member began to throb. He was used to being in control. There was safety in control letting that part of him slip for even a second led to disaster. Aemond craved rest for someone to ease that unmoving tension in his mind and giving his power to Y/n would do just that. 

“Good boy, strip and lay on the bed for me,” she said releasing his hair. Aemond stood from his spot on the floor in favor of removing his doublet and breeches before laying on the bed desperate to obey. Aemond felt his length harden as Y/n waltzed up to the bed and slowly skipped out of her sleeves pulling her bodice down, exposing her full breast and removed her small clothes, leaving her the remainder of her dress on. His red tip now peaked out from the protection of its fleshy folds at the sight. His shy elegant lady turned dominating temptress. Aemond reached down to stroke himself but was met with a quick slap.   

“Proper gentlemen don’t touch themselves, Aemond. It is quite unseemly,” she said, climbing onto the bed to straddle him.  

“Y-Yes my lady.”   

“You know improper gentlemen believe they are owed the pleasure they crave-” Y/n pulled her skirt up, revealing thick plush thighs coated in slick from her dripping mound, causing Aemond’s breath to quicken and his cock to throb. “But a proper gentleman asks for his desires, doesn’t he, Aemond? Why don’t you ask me for what it is you desire my dear?” Y/n lowered herself a bit allowing Aemond’s tip to just barely graze her entrance. Aemond gasped, trying to hold himself together. Whenever he had coupled with Y/n, Aemond would take her hips and impale her with his length whenever he felt the urge, yet at this moment doing such a thing without her explicit permission felt as though he would be committing an unforgivable sin of the highest caliber.  

“Please my lady, use my cock.” Aemond said, bringing his hands up and sinking his fingers into her soft hips. 

“Hmm I don’t know. You don’t seem to want me enough. Perhaps I should stop,” she said slowly lowering her skirt. The gentle throbbing of Aemonds cock developed into torturous ache.  

“No, my lady, please I need you. Please let me fill your cunny. I need it. I’m throbbing for you. I need to fill you around me my lady,” Y/n grinned and lifted her skirt once more.  

“There you go sweet boy begging for me like a proper gentleman,” Y/n dropped onto his cock taking him all at once. Normally Y/n would ask Aemond to be slow and gentle with her, but here and now, consumed by her newfound vigor, she didn’t want to be gentle. She didn’t want to be delicate. She wanted to take everything for herself. Y/n sank, allowing Aemond to bottom out. He could feel her cunt constrict around his cock as if she wanted to meld him into her insides. Her folds would only briefly release him from their tight grip before clenching around him once again. Y/n could feel Aemond’s cock pulsating inside her. The tip of his cock pressed against the spongy back of her cunt. Y/n rocked her hips, enthralled by how the sensation of absolute control enhanced her pleasure. Aemond felt as though he was unraveling every time Y/n’ hips dropped to meet his. Aemond was consumed with an unrelenting craving that devoured his entire being. He needed her. He needed more.   

“Faster my lady! Please, I need more of you!”   

“Good boy asking so nicely for his lady,” Y/n sped up, bouncing on Aemond’s cock quicker, the heat in her core building to a peak ready to snap at any moment. Y/n reached for Aemond’s hands. She pressed his left hand against her pearl and held onto his right one. Aemond rolled small circles on Y/n’s pearl already covered in her slick and tangled his fingers with hers. Adding pressure to the sensitive bud when their hips met each other. 

“I’m going to cum. Are you ready, Aemond?” she said leaning down, losing herself in his violet eye.  

“Yes please, I need to feel you cum around me my lady!” she couldn’t hold on any longer. Squeezing Aemonds hand Y/n fell apart as her orgasm flooded across her body, causing her legs to shake and her body to fall limp against Aemond. The pleasure of taking Aemond as she pleased pushed Y/n’s high to another plane of existence. One where she was everything and nothing all at once. Unburdened. Unshackled. Untouched. Aemond felt himself burst inside of Y/n his back arching. He had never reached a peak like this before. He could feel tingling all throughout his body that turned into blissful burning reaching to the tips of his toes. They laid together for a moment, their heavy breathing filling the heady air. Y/n sat up a bit and placed a gentle kiss on Aemond’s temple still damp from the excitement.  

“Did I do well for you, my lady?” 

“You were the perfect gentleman.” 

Please reblog and comment

[silvercompassmaps]

Indian Bazaar

In the crowded marketplace alive with the scent of colorful spices and mouthwatering street food, there is a secret smuggling ring that supplies customers with the rare drug Ksibata. This drug is rumored to have the power to completely heal one's wounds and energize the spirit...but at a cost. Do you dare to try the drug?

The concept of a crowded marketplace, a bazaar, has always appealed to me. The ability to blend in seamlessly with the crowd, being exposed to all kinds of sights, smells, and tastes, and interacting with a variety of people.

This map will also be included as part in my Devabhumi setting book, which will be released this year! Devabhumi is an Ancient India-inspired campaign setting, which presents an unique shrouded in rich lore and mystery. Sign up here to be notified when the kickstarter project goes live.

You can download the base map for free here.