#jasmine and vanilla candles | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rainyorca · 1 month

Text

Flowers Don’t Bloom In Winter ❀ Logan Howlett x Reader

Content Warnings: F!reader, angst/no comfort, character death, kissing/make out, implied smut, mild gore, strangers to friends to lovers.

Summary: “Are you scared?” he asks, voice low but there's genuine curiosity in the gentle cadence of his voice. Your eyes meet his. “You could never scare me.”

You'll wilt, all flowers die. But he'll bloom again.

Notes: I’ve been a wolvie fan since i was suppperrr young and I am so glad him (and hugh) are getting attention again. This is my second-ish time writing for him, I just got done rewatching the movies for the first time in a while so hopefully I did him a little justice. His hair in origins will forever be my favorite but in this you can think of him from any movie, there is no set one, no set timeline wolvie.

Words: 6,121

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

You're not a weapon.

You’re more human than everyone else.

Human was a funny word, to Logan at least. Being human meant a lot of things, mutant wasn’t one of them. Stuck as a mutant with the heart for a human, what a tragedy. Actually, did he even have a heart? Oftentimes he would spend nights trying to find his own heartbeat, a hand laying on his chest while he stared up at the ceiling.

When he met you he wondered if you knew what he was, the way you stared at him when he came in and sat down at the bar made him curious. Most don't know, he looks normal on the outside, so how would you know? But he did have a hard time keeping his eyes off you too, you smelled human but there was something so sweet about your scent, it made you different from others.

Wisteria, sandalwood, jasmine and maybe a hint of vanilla, he couldn't really pinpoint what you smelled like (however it reminded him of forests, nature, his old home) all he knew was that he wanted the scent to last forever, like a candle he could buy over and over again. He would only watch the stage when you got up there and when you're done, he would be too.

You came to the bar shortly after to get yourself a drink, your eyes resembled a rabbit’s; innocence and beauty all in one, and they immediately found him. There was something else in your eyes, deep within like you were trying to figure him out. When you got closer to him your scent got stronger, so strong it was almost overwhelming. No human has ever had that effect on him before, at least not enough to make him physically react like he did, squeezing his glass a little tighter.

“Hello,” you smiled brightly, like a blooming flower, voice gentle whilst you greeted him.

“You must be new, I haven't seen you at the bar before.”

“Just figured I’d try out a new place,” he responds, an attempt to try and be friendly despite his intimidating looks. You smile again, swallowing down the remains of your liquor and then putting the dish in the sink. “Glad you came to us,” your eyes travel down to his somewhat empty glass, “you want another?”

Your kindness was obvious, but no one that kind is ever really okay. There was something off about you, something deep down was bothering you or maybe you just had some other problem he couldn't figure out. You're kind but in a calming way, not overwhelming. What's the word? Tranquil? That's what he thought of you.

You knew Logan wasn’t human when you first met him. He looked human just like a majority of the rest of the mutants but you had a keen eye for finding them. It was a talent to some people, being able to point out who was ‘real’ and who was not. Logan was no exception, you could practically see that mutant blood underneath his thick skin as if you had x-ray vision.

A human trying to befriend a mutant, what an odd thing to most of the world. You should be scared of him. People would say, many warning you to beware the mutants, stay away from the entities wearing human skin. He's only going to hurt you, stay away from him.

Logan wasn’t an entity, he had a human heart just like the rest of them. But to you, he was a little more human than the others. To you, he looked like a winter flower, strong and capable of handling whatever comes its way, but flowers don't bloom in winter. He was too good to be true.

You don’t really remember the details of how you met Logan (besides making small talk that first time), but what always stays in your head is what happened a few months later upon meeting him.

There was a little dispute in the parking lot of your job. Being a dancer doesn't mean you do all the hard work at your job, that's up to the servers and bartenders. But of course you were always the one to go clean up after people. Your coworkers assigned you the role after you broke up a bar fight on your first night, so all the dirty work (dealing with rude customers or fights in and out of the bar) was left up to you.

Kill them with kindness is an extremely real and full proof method, people find your kindness a little off putting (though you are unsure why). You don’t know what the guys were fighting about but it got messy quickly, they both started swinging at each other and when you tried to split it up suddenly you were the problem.

Pushing you up against the car, threatening you instead of each other. Your coworkers who were once watching from afar were now safely back inside. You braced yourself for some hits, maybe you would get a cool scar out of the situation, a story to tell to your future children (if you even had any). But all that confidence from before was dropped as soon as the guy got on his knees, grabbing your injured face as you leaned lethargically against the car, making you look at him.

Your bare legs hurt on the asphalt, rocks digging into the softness of your skin, leaving marks. He held a knife up to your ribs, pressing and pressing until you felt a sharpness, the tip of the blade digging into your flesh. The other guy had run off, probably took his chance and instead let you take the beatings.

You remember him getting ready to stand up, his face getting closer to you while he continued to threaten you, that was until he went silent. There was the sound of flesh ripping, or a knife sheathing you weren’t really sure. Blood splatters onto your face, the only thing you could hear was gurgling and a gruesome choking sound from the man. Slowly opening your blurry eyes, the sight in front of you almost made you scream if your throat wasn't so dry.

The man had been silenced, three blades stuck out the front of his face, the tips of them so close to yours you could feel them poking into your skin. A shaky gasp escapes your lips when you see him move, his body lifting up. Standing behind him, the man's blood spilling onto his knuckles, was Logan (Haemanthus, in that moment).

The look of fear on your face was clear in the dark, Logan could see it, hell he could probably smell it. You watch him toss the limp body aside and then he crouches down in front of you. Flinching away, you watch those metal claws slide back into his knuckles, the openings they tear closing almost immediately. Then he cups your face with that same, blood soaked hand, trying to wipe the blood that had splattered onto your face (useless, he was only smearing it).

That was the first time you ever saw Logan use his powers and it was to protect you. What you should’ve done is run, call the cops or something but instead you stayed, you stayed in front of him, letting him pick you up and carry you back into your job.

Humans are curious creatures, thirsting for an explanation of something they don't understand, even if that explanation could kill them. So, after that, you would stay after hours on your job, as long as he was there. After you got done closing you would ask him to show you, show you his claws so you could feel them, look at them. Maybe even worship them if you were that kind of person.

“Does it hurt?” You ask, trailing your fingers up the blades. “When they come out?”

“Every time,” he responds, watching you intently, no one has ever seemed to show this much curiosity over his claws, at least no human has.

“There’s something sort of humbling about them,” you speak slowly, looking at your reflection on the blades, “the fact that you could so easily kill me, kill anyone, yet you choose not to.”

Your fingers trail back down the blades until you stop at his wrist, wrapping your hand around it to feel them when they return into his body. You could feel his muscles move every time his bones shift to allow the metal to escape the cavity of his arm. His eyes stay locked on your face, watching every tiny change in expression.

“Are you scared?” he asks, voice low but there's genuine curiosity in the gentle cadence of his voice.

Your eyes meet his. “You could never scare me.”

It was hard to say whether you really liked Logan after what happened, a part of you knows what he did was illegal, but he did it to protect you, maybe you could rule it out as self defense if the cops come searching. You took an interest in him honestly, this was your first time getting to know a mutant, your first time being saved by one too.

But there was a part of you that wanted to protect him, keep him safe and out of harm from humans and mutants alike. Logan is stubborn but not as stubborn as you. You would do anything to keep him safe, even if it meant risking your own life, although he argues that you shouldn't do anything like that for him. Humans are much more fragile, at least that's what he would say to you. He compared you to a flower, prone to breaking, prone to destruction. He feared that he wouldn't be able to keep you safe.

It's strange, just a few months into this little friendship and you already feel this instinct to take care of him, to nurture him, treat him like he's the most perfect piece of art in the whole world, and also the most breakable. Like he's the most precious, rarest flower you’ve ever seen. The type that you discovered, not some random traveler. Even a few months in he allows you to meet all the other mutants, the ones he calls his family. You hit it off with Storm pretty quick, she knew how to be your voice of reason, your help when it comes to figuring out your feelings for Logan.

You also enjoyed staying at the mansion, being able to interact with all the students. This place was wonderful to you, but you didn't like having to stay behind when Logan went on missions.

Every time you watch him walk out that door you feel like you're left with nothing but desperation, the desire, the need to go with him. All you want to do is help him. But you were also left with fear, strangely enough. No matter how many times he came back, everytime he left it felt like he was never gonna come back. They’re just missions, he’ll be back soon. That's what you always told yourself.

You don't know why you cared so much, you two weren't even dating. But you don't really know what to call the relationship you two had, you were much closer than just regular friends. Yearning was never your thing until you met him. Usually you try to avoid relationships, your fears always making it hard for you to stay with someone.

I wanna be a part of you.

You would tell him. Always touching him, that was your thing. He liked that about you, that you felt safe around him, comfortable enough to always be touching him, a hand constantly on his shoulder or fingers wrapped around his wrist. It was something you did every time you were with him, even if you were safe from harm.

His most favorite thing was that scent of yours, it drove him crazy in all the good ways. He could tell when you had just been in a room and he could follow your scent out of that room if he so pleased. He remembers the first time Charles talked about you after you had left the room just a few minutes before he arrived.

“She's quite a unique one,” he says, watching Logan adjust to your scent filling the room, “isn't scared of mutants, believes we are all equal. I'm glad you found her, Logan.”

“Yeah well, I knew she’d be good here,” Logan responds, leaning against the wall. Charles is quiet, but there's a growing smirk on his face. “What?” he asks a bit harshly.

“You like her,” Charles says, “I don't have to read your mind to tell.”

“Yeah well a mutant and a human won't really work out, so forget it,” Logan grumbles, pushing through the doors and leaving the room before Charles could protest.

The dynamic was weird (for a pair that wasn't dating), but considerably normal to the other mutants. Many seek him out for protection too, he's just the type of guy you gravitate to, despite that grumpy face and angry attitude. You know that's not who he is on the inside, he's much more gentle than what others seem to think about him (Hibiscus, a delicate beauty, Gypsophilia, pure of heart).

When Logan was out on missions, you would spend your time distracting yourself with flower hunting or spending money on bouquets just to make you happy. You would leave them around the mansion, around your work.

You love seeing him in the audience when he returns, usually sitting at the bar. He leans against it, facing the stage, eyes only on you (Sweet daffodil, you're my only one. The sun shines when I'm with you). When you were done for the night you would run to him, wrapping your arms around him, finding so much comfort in those large arms.

You imagine Logan would be a kind lover, gentle and caring. The type to freak out if he accidentally hurt you. The type to sit you on his lap during dinner even if there was a chair for you. You know he would take care of you, he's said it a million times before.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says softly one night after you get off work. You're standing behind the bar, watching him drink the last of the whiskey.

“You can't be near me all the time,” you hum, teasingly, unaware of his seriousness. You figured it was just him being a little flirty.

“I can if I want to,” he responds, his smile often a little rare to see but present in this moment.

He made it very hard for you to try and hide your flusteredness. Logan can be very flirty, more unintentionally than not. In all honesty, maybe you did want him, wanted to be with him. For once you can see a future with someone, something rare for you (usually trying not to look ahead). You could see the future where you live in a cabin with him, somewhere in the woods, probably in Canada or somewhere cold. He would get a normal job, you would make him breakfast and then kiss him goodbye before heading to your own job. Maybe it was a sad, pathetic thing to think about at night but you couldn't help yourself, it was the life you always wanted and you finally found someone to have that life with.

The day you really realized it, was when he came back from a longer mission, longer than usual. For once you didn't work that week, taking a break to give the new dancer a chance to earn some money. You spent that week cleaning your place, organizing, doing the things you didn't usually have time for. That's when you received a call from the mansion, Ororo had called you, letting you know Logan was back.

You’ve never driven so fast in your life, that long trip turns into a few quick minutes. The snow didn't stop you, instead it only made your adrenaline spike, your excitement. You practically slipped when you got out of the car, running to the front door of the mansion.

When it opened to his handsome face you felt a tingle in your spine, electricity coursing through your veins. He starts to walk forward, snow starting to stick to his dark hair, his arms open waiting to catch you.

In that moment, when you ran into his arms, feeling them wrap around you again and cover you in that familiar warmth, that familiar scent, you felt something more. More than fasciation, more than adoration, you felt love (A blooming orchid).

“Miss me?” he asks with a smile when you pull away, your arms still wrapped around his neck. He sets you carefully back down on your feet.

“Always,” you breathe, tears pricking at your eyes. You don't know why you felt like crying, you blamed it on the fact of how much you missed him, or maybe you were just incredibly overwhelmed.

You knew the problems with wanting to be with Logan. The major one you realized while rewatching Twilight (Ironic given your situation, Edward a vampire, Bella a human. You a human, Logan a mutant). Logan is practically immortal, honestly you don’t even know how old he is now. You’ll grow old, eventually succumb to your age or maybe even a sickness if you're lucky. Logan will still be living, just older, a little more grumpy.

You’ll wilt, all flowers die. But he’ll bloom again.

But unlike Twilight, you won’t get your happy ending. Logan can’t bite you and turn you into a mutant like Edward does with Bella. His fangs are dulled, they don’t secrete any special type of life changing liquid.

Unfortunately you’ll be human forever. What a curse it is to be human or to be living at all.

…

The first time you and Logan kissed was outside his place, surrounded by nothing but trees, fresh snow falling to the ground and sticking to your hair. You had embarrassingly fallen on your ass walking up to his house, he quickly rushed out to help you up, dusting you off and asking if you were okay. But when he picked you up you never let go, keeping your arms wrapped around his neck while he held you on your own two feet. There was that buzz in the air, the flutter right before a kiss, that tingly feeling in your spine knowing it’s going to happen.

And when his lips graze over yours you practically shove his head down to kiss him, pressing your lips against his without even considering the situation. To your surprise, he kisses you back, wrapping his arms around you a little tighter and lifting you up so your legs wrap around his waist.

It was like something out of a movie, just missing a mushy love song. You wished you could hold that kiss forever but your lips would get sore and you would probably get frostbite.

When you pulled away he stared at you, eyes piercing into yours before he freed one of his hands. His fingers curl around the chain of his dog tags, and then he pulls them up and over his head.

Then he puts them around your neck, the jingle of them coming to rest on your collar bones makes you shudder, but from warmth, excitement.

You hide them under your shirt most of the time, always toying with them to make sure they are still safely around your neck. It’s like he transported his warmth with them because they were always warm no matter how cold it was outside.

Sometimes, if you see him before he leaves somewhere, he’d press a hand to where they hang, rough palm warm against your chest. It was like his little special way of saying goodbye, just in case he didn’t return (which you hated to think about).

Logan eventually gave you the spare key to his place, allowing you to visit whenever you so pleased. And when he was gone sometimes you would curl up in his bed, inhaling his scent and usually getting the best sleep of your life. His scent brought you comfort, you always wanted to be surrounded by it, drowning in it.

On occasion but rarely, he would come home to you still in his bed, buried under the covers and sleeping soundly. He’d pull the blanket back gently to see your face, sit down on the edge of the bed and stare at you while he waited for you to wake up.

But usually you would be gone, his bed would be empty but he would always know you were there. Your scent would seep into sheets, the mattress drinking up your smell. He could smell you, like you were still present (Soft jasmine, beautiful wisteria).

Now the first time you two ever slept together was at his place of course, you were slumped from work, muscles aching, head throbbing. You’ve never been this tired before. You push through the door, unlocked as usual when he’s home. He’s already in bed when you're there, awake but he looks just as tired as you. He sits up when he sees you, turning on the lamp so you can see. You don't even say anything, instead you just drop your things by the doorway, tugging your shirt off over your head letting it pool on the ground.

He doesn’t seem to care, instead he just watches you as you curl into bed next to him. “Rough day?” He asks a few moments later, turning the lamp off.

“Don’t even get me started,” you mumble back, voice muffled by his pillow. You can already feel yourself relaxing, his scent like a calming drug (the smell of peaceful lavender).

He doesn’t hesitate, he turns to his side, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. You let out a sigh, melting into his warmth. It started out as a normal night, sleep coming to you quickly. But it wasn’t until you felt Logan stirr, moving a little in his sleep. He lets out a quiet grumble, and then a louder one.

Then you feel a sharp pain, agonizing, stinging, right in the back of your shoulder. You let out a yelp, jolting up, your movements pulling whatever it was out of your flesh. You look back, reaching a shaking hand back to feel the wounds. “Damn,” you groan when you see blood on your hand, Logan’s claws unsheathed, the tips covered in your blood. You can feel the warmth travel down your back, the sight of the blood trickling down your back and staining the sheets makes you feel dizzy.

Logan stirrs again, sniffing the air, eyes fluttering open at the scent of your blood. He acts as soon as his eyes land on your back, fear and worry clouding his head. “Fuck,” he curses, “fuck, fuck.”

“I’m okay, I’m fine.” You breathe through clenched teeth, getting up to go to the bathroom. He quickly picks you up, carrying you to the bathroom. He sets you on the bathroom sink, maneuvering around you so he could clean your wounds. You open your eyes, staring at his face. He’s focused, brows furrowed, lips slightly parted as he continues to wipe the blood from your open wounds before finally getting them to stop bleeding. You watch as he slowly starts to wrap you up with the gauze and bandages.

You reach up, softly cupping his face with your free hand, making him halt his actions. His eyes meet yours, your reflection so visible in his pupils. Unsure of how long you stared into his eyes, he had somehow finished wrapping you up without taking his eyes off you. You could feel yourself inching closer, getting closer and closer to his face until you can feel his breath. His lips graze over yours and you flinch back, as if you haven’t kissed him before. It’s been a few months come to think of it, but still you shouldn’t be nervous.

Logan just has that effect on you. It only takes a few seconds until your lips meet, kissing him gently, your fingers finding their way to the nape of his neck. Fingertips brush the shore of his hair, almost like an invitation.

And he takes it, kissing you with a little more vigor. His bloodied hand comes up to your face, smearing a little bit of your blood on your cheek. He’s careful with his movements, gripping your waist with his other hand to keep you up on the sink, to steady you. His kisses are starting to get more aggressive, pressing you a bit further back onto the sink.To make sure you don’t slip in, he reaches underneath you, his large hand coming to rest on your ass as he holds you still.

You can feel that familiar heat start to pool between your thighs, and he can feel it too, or in other words smell it. Your legs clench around him, squeezing as if you're trying to pull him into you. He frees his hand from underneath you, feeling up the bare skin of your waist, his rough fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours while he stares down at your semi-bare body, debating on unclipping your bra to feel you more. His breathing is rushed but even, mouth open.

“Logan,” you breathe, coming out more as a desperate plea. He hums, pressing your lips together again, open mouth kisses, tilting his head for better movement and access. There’s a thin string of saliva that keeps your mouths connected when he pulls away.

He can see it in your eyes, the desperation, not only that but he could smell it too. Your scent was strong, if he got closer to your core it would be overwhelming, and he's not sure he’d be able to stop what he's started.. “You’re hurt,” he says quietly, “I don’t wanna hurt you anymore than you already are,.”

“You won’t,” you respond, a smile on your kiss bitten lips, “Logan, please.” He kisses you again, slower and softer this time. “I can't,” he whispers against your lips, keeping them close even after pulling away again.

“Why not?” you speak softly, scratching his scalp with your nails. He hesitates, his thumb rubbing your cheek. “You know why.” He smiles, gentle and small before licking his thumb and wiping the small amount of blood off your face. “C’mon,” he mutters, lifting you off the sink.

…

Logan gave you all kinds of nicknames but your most favorite came from you showing up to his place with flowers. You loved orchids, always have so you bought a small bouquet of them to put on his coffee table. He accepted gracefully, and then from then on he started calling you by that name. A simple nickname but it was lovely.

Orchid, my little orchid. A nickname uniquely your own (Orchids, love, beauty).

It wasn’t long before you two had officially agreed to being in a relationship, having a label. And not long after that you decided to move in with him, a bold move but you spend more time at his place than yours anyways. At night the moon will shine through the windows, lighting up the room with its cool toned glow. You’ll lay your head on Logan’s shoulder, your hand resting on his chest. You’ll both lie awake in silence while you draw circles on his chest with your finger.

Some nights you’ll sit on his lap while his back rests against the headboard, your hands cupping his face. On occasion, you’ll run your thumb over his bottom lip until he parts them for you, then you’ll feel his abnormally sharp canines, his fangs. You test them, pressing the pad of your thumb into the sharp point to see if it’ll make you bleed but he always stops you before you ever do. When you're asleep he’ll stare at your face till morning, gently rubbing his thumb over your cheek. He stares at his dog tags around your neck, always warm from your body heat and always safe.

He admires your beauty, especially when the sunlight hits you just right. When you're hiking in that tank top and whatever pants you decided to wear that day, he stares at your backside, your silhouetted figure. And when you bend over to tie your shoe, looking back at him with a smile, his eyes not only fixate on your face, but your scars. The scars he left engraved on your skin.

The scars you admired, the scars that comfort you, a reminder of him always.

It’s past 11 pm, you’ve been in the bath for almost an hour now, the water starting to get cold. The room is dark, only lightened by the light seeping through the open bathroom door. You lean back, head resting on the edge of the tub, fingers toying with Logan’s dog tags.

The familiar sound of the front door opening echoes through the silent bathroom, Logan's heavy footsteps can be heard walking around, like he's looking for you. You slide down further into the bath, trying to hide yourself playfully, peaking over the edge while you wait for him. That's when he peeks into the bathroom, a smile creeps over his face when he sees you.

“Hi, gorgeous.” he says in that comforting gruff voice. He crouches down by the side of the tub, dipping his hand into the warm water. “Hi.” You smile, sitting up and resting your head on your hands, holding onto the edge of the tub. He brings a hand up to caress your face, gently rubbing the warm skin of your cheek.

“What did you do today?” you ask, watching him reach for the loofa and dip it in the water. He grabs your arm gently, rubbing your skin softly with the item. “The usual,” he responds, staring at the suds on your skin while they wash away. You hum, sitting back in the tub again, making him let go of you and get further. “C’mere,” you beckon, tapping the edge of the bathtub. He complies, getting up and sitting down on the edge. He leans down so he could be close to your face.

“I was thinking about you today,” he says softly, cupping your face, “I always am.” Smiling a little wider, you reach up with both hands, grabbing his face and pulling him down to kiss him. He kisses you back, much to your pleasure. You're quick to part your lips, giving him access to use his tongue.

It's an aggressive kiss, open mouthed and borderline messy. He pulls away to say something but you block it out, too focused on the feeling of his lips to even notice. You try to pull him back down and you successfully do, he doesn't put up a fight or anything. The kiss becomes more vigorous, more violent but so passionate.

He slips, falling into the tub fully clothed, making the water rise and spill out over the sides. You laugh softly in which he responds with a small laugh too. He’s laying on your side, face inches away from you and just a little lower as he allows himself to slip into the bath more comfortably. Your lips graze over his again, his smile fades as he kisses you and then pulls away.

You adjust your trapped arm behind his head, scratching his scalp as he gets closer and closer. Then he kisses you again, leaning his whole body forward and cupping your face with a wet hand once again. You close your eyes, but he opens his just slightly while his lips slowly slot against yours. Open mouth on open mouth, his lips never leaving yours. The only noise that fills the space is the quiet sound of water sloshing, soft breaths from the both of you while you kiss until practically sucking the oxygen from each other.

Pressing his lips against yours a little rougher now, he eases on top of you. Your hands travel up and down his flanks and back, feeling him through his soaked clothes tight against his skin until you tug and pull at the bottom of his shirt. He sits back, breaking the kiss for once and taking his shirt off, immediately returning to your lips. A gasp escapes your mouth when you feel him press his hips against yours, his cock clearly wanting to be freed from the prison of his jeans. He can smell your arousal, your need for him. His lips move down your jaw and to your neck, kissing at the supple area while he struggles to grind against you. His fangs graze over your skin, making your body shudder at the feeling.

Water spills out the tub with every erratic movement, but you can feel the warmth returning. He uses his other hand to hold the dip in your spine, making your back arch by habit, by command almost. Your eyes go all hazy and the more he presses his bare skin into yours you swear you feel like you're melting into his body.

“I love you,” he whispers, into your neck.

…

You loved flowers, always have. You loved what they represent depending on what type they were, you loved how colorful they usually work, how unique they are. You loved how they bloom again even after death, even after they've wilted and lost all their color. The petals turned into something wrinkled and rough, unlike their usual clear, softness.

Even after they die, they still bloom again in springtime. Daisy, lavender, day lily, aster, they all bloom again. Flowers don’t mourn the dead, they respect it, embrace it. They become one with the dead, seeping into the ground and back into the earth in which a person is buried.

To him, you were a flower. Delicate and soft, something he wanted to protect, to see everyday. Your color, he couldn't quite describe it but it was uniquely your own. Over 10 million colors and somehow when he sees you and it's something separate from the million to choose from. When he thinks of you, that's the color he sees. When he thinks of you, he sees an orchid.

But is a flower still a flower after all its petals have been ripped off, gored and left to rot and wilt on the ground. Is a flower still a flower after it's been torn out of the ground, roots ripped, its purpose gone?

You think of all the times you’ve woken up beside him, smiling when he opens his eyes, murmuring a soft “good morning” as he reaches up to touch your face. You remember the times where he would soothe you on your tough days, running a bath for you and gently rubbing the loofa on your skin. So many good moments, very few bad ones.

Words of affirmation weren't your love language, at least not usually. But Logan had another super power, and it was exactly that. He knew what to say and how to say it at all the right moments. He was a generous lover, attentive, caring, when you were with him you felt like yourself.

“Winter came early this year,” you hum, clutching the white orchids in your gloved hands, “my first one without you.”

“I keep buying orchids for you, whenever I have the time. But even when I don’t you're always on my mind.”

You go silent, tears starting to bubble up in your eyes. “I just- I-” you stutter, voice breaking as you grip the flowers a little tighter. You fall to your knees, snow wetting your pants while your tears run down your face. Your sobs slowly pick up in volume every time you try to speak, only to get choked up and give up. “I just wanna see you,” you sob, pressing your face into the snow below, “I just want to see you.”

You drag yourself further up the ground until you're met with the headstone, Logan’s name engraved on it, freezing to the touch. You press the flowers into the snow, laying down on top of them while your hands move to clutch his dog tags tightly around your neck. The snow and soil drink up your tears, and you can only hope they reach him.

He was a flower, a dangerous one on the outside but oh so beautiful on the inside. But you seemed to forget one thing.

Flowers don't bloom in winter.

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

I don't know flowers that well so forgive me flower fans ahaha

#⋆｡𖦹°‧ukume!#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #wolverine x you #wolverine #logan howlett x you

157 notes · View notes

azrielsmate87 · 10 months

Text

Coming home Drabble

Azriel x reader

Summary: Azriel comes home from a mission early and accidentally wakes you

Warnings: N/A

Protecting the night court was never easy, even after over 500 years of experience the mental strain put on Azriel caused tension in his aching body. His wings drooping when stepping through the door of the small cabin on the outskirts of Velaris. It wasn’t massive by any means but it was wing friendly, and yours.

He passed the books that littered the floor along with other Knick knacks scattered around: paintings of your family from many decades ago, homemade candles from the market that made the cabin smell of jasmine and vanilla and warm fae lights strung along the shelf’s. It wasn’t much but you managed to make the small space cozy and a home, something Az was very happy with.

Tip toeing through the house Azriel took his boots off knowing the sound of them on the floorboards would wake you. Him coming home three days early wasn’t easy but it was worth it to be with you. Even though all he wanted to do was see you and your face light up at the fact he’s surprised you with his early return he couldn’t help but admire how beautiful you are in the moonlight.

He changed out of his leathers and noticed the jogging bottoms you temporarily stole from his room in the house of wind and changed into them, then slipped into bed next to you. He was finally comfortable. He wrapped his arm around you and pulled your back to his front and placed his head on top of yours revelling in your scent.

As Azriel started to drift off he felt you move. “That better be you shadowsinger or we’re going to have a problem” you groggily murmured into the night, enjoying the heat he provided you, knowing it was your mate. He chuckled at your hint of a threat and lazily skimmed his fingers over your arms trying to lull you to sleep “It’s me little one, go back to sleep” he whispered into your hair tightening his grip on your waist.

You knew the position would soon become uncomfortable for the huge bat next to you, so you gently tugged his arms allowing you to move and nudge Azriel until he was lying on his back with his wings splayed out. You curled into his side and nuzzled your face into his bare chest pressing your lips to his chest for a quick kiss, inhaling his scent feeling sleep consume you once more as he wrapped his wing around you almost as if to protect you from the world. You didn’t fight sleep but before you did you whispered to him,

“I’ll greet you properly tomorrow. Welcome home Az”

#acotar #azriel #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #fluff #drabble #oneshot #a court of thorns and roses

747 notes · View notes

somewhere-on-venus · 6 months

Text

So you want to worship Aphrodite?

Aphrodite goddess of love, beauty, sexuality and so on.

Born of seafoam, goddess of the peoples hearts.

Aphrodite has been a big part of my life for awhile... Shes blessed me in many ways! And if you want to work with her I hope to help you.

I won't be going into her history in this post, this is more of a guide on how to get started on worshipping her.

The first thing alot of people ask about is how to build that connection, how to reach out. With any deity I work with I started out leaving an offering, lighting a candle and/or incense and offering my devotion through prayer. I then usually follow up with divination of some form to build on the relationship and get to know them. As for offerings I find it can be flexible to what you have. But I'll list off some traditional and other kinds of offerings here first!

Offerings~

• frankincense incense

• apple

• eggs

• strawberries

• chocolate

• honey

• roses

• olives

• wine/mulled wine

• raisins/grapes

• perfume

• cosmetics

• shells

These are just a few but there are plenty more.

I personally when I'm short on any of these I offer her some of my own food. Theres been times where she has gotten a pizza pocket but a big thing is to remember is to not stress about this! The gods are understanding, they won't be mad and Aphrodite certainly wont be! The biggest thing that matters is that it comes from the heart...

Ill also listen some plants and food associated with her as it might also be helpful for offerings.

• rosemary

• hibiscus

• Jasmine

• myrtle

• mint

• cinnamon

• basil

• cannabis

• lettuce

• strawberries

• pomegranate

• iris

• myyrh

• vanilla

• ginger

• peach

• frankincense

Associated animals

• doves

• sparrows

• waterfowl

• dolphins

Crystals

• rose quartz

• pearl

• aquamarine

• jade

• moonstone

• rhodolite

• carnelian

Setting up an altar

Personally I set up a small altar space first... I see it as welcoming them into my home, healing them settle/get comfortable. It would be like maybe getting your home presentable and such for a new friend coming over. And I believe that when approaching the gods you should do it like that, great them as a new friend. Be respectful, don't rush into it and be welcoming.

When I first set up my altar to Aphrodite I looked around my room for what I could use first. I wouldn't rush into buying stuff until you've established that connection.

I searched for shells, pink items, fake flowers etc. I even put toys and jewelry that reminded me of her on there. I also used a tea light and pink spell candles.

This was my first altar:

If you have any questions let me know.. I will do posts like these on other deities I worship soon 🩷

(also this is from my personal experience.. I hope it is helpful though)

#hellenic pagan #hellenism #witch community #witchblr #witchcraft #hellenic polytheism #aphrodite #venus #altar

303 notes · View notes

greenwitchcrafts · 8 months

Text

February 2024 witch guide

Full moon: February 24th

New moon: February 9th

Sabbats: Imbolc-February 1st

February Snow Moon

Known as: Eagle Moon, Horning Moon, Solmonath Moon, Bear moon, Ice Moon, Wild Moon, Raccoon Moon, Big Winter Moon, Groundhog Moon, Quickening Moon, Storm Moon, Goose Moon, Hungry Moon & Red/Cleansing Moon

Element: Fire

Zodiac: Aquarius & Pisces

Nature spirits: House Faeries

Deities: Aphrodite, Brigid & Nut

Animals: Otter & Unicorn

Birds: Chickadee & Eagle

Trees: Cedar, laurel, myrtle & rowan

Herbs: Balm of Gilead, hyssop, myrrh, sage & spikenard

Flowers: Primrose

Scents: Heliotrope & wisteria

Stones: Amethyst, jasper, moonstone, obsidian, onyx , rose quartz, topaz & red zircon

Colors: Light blue & violet

Energy: Astral travel, banishing, beginnings, breaking bad habits, creativity expressiveness, empowerment, energy working to the surface, fertility, forgiveness, freedom, friendships, future plans, growth, healing, problem solving, purification, responsibility & science

February’s full Moon is a “Micromoon” this year. Think of this term as the opposite of a “Supermoon.” It simply means that the full Moon is at its farthest point from Earth (not the nearest point).

The explanation behind February’s full Moon name is a fairly straightforward one: it’s known as the Snow Moon due to the typically heavy snowfall that occurs in February. On average, February is the United States’ snowiest month, according to data from the National Weather Service. In the 1760s, Captain Jonathan Carver, who had visited with the Naudowessie(Dakota), wrote that the name used for this period was the Snow Moon, “because more snow commonly falls during this month than any other in the winter.”

Imbolc

Known as: Feast of Torches, Feast of Waxing Light, Oimele & Brigid's Day

Season: Winter

Symbols: Besoms, Brighid's crosses, candles, candle wheels, fertility symbols, fire, ploughs, priapic wands & white flowers

Colors: Black, brown, Earth tones, lavender, light green, orange, pink, red, white & yellow

Oils/Incense: Apricot, basil, bay, carnation, chamomile, cinnamon, dragon's blood, frankincense, heather, jasmine, myrrh, neroli, red sandalwood, sage, vanilla, violet & wisteria

Animals: Badger, cow, deer,groudhog, robin, sheep, snake, & swan

Mythical: Dragon

Stones: Amethyst, bloodstone, citrine, clear quartz, garnet, green tourmaline, hematite, iron, lodestone, onyx, red zircon, rose quartz, ruby, turquoise, yellow tourmaline

Food: Breads, chives, curries, dairy products, grains, garlic, herbal teas, honey cakes, lamb, muffins, onions, peppers, poppy seed cakes, pork, poultry, pumpkin seeds, raisins, scones, spiced wines & sunflower seeeds

Herbs/Plants: Angelica, ashleaf, balsam, basil, bay laurel, benzoin, blackberry, clover, coltsfoot, coriander, dragon's blood, garlic, heather, lemon, myrrh, rosemary, sage, vervain, wheat & witch hazel

Flowers: Celandine, chamomile, iris, rose hips, snowdrop, sunflower, tansy, violets, white flowers & yellow flowers

Goddesses: Anu, Aradia, Arianrhod, Artio, Athena, Branwen, Brigid, Danu, Februa, Gaia, Inanna, Juno, Selene, Sirona & Vesta

Gods: Aegus Mac Og, Bragi, Cupid, Dian Cecht, Dumuzi, Eros, Februus & Pax

Issues, Intentions & Powers: Activation/awakening, animals, beginnings, fertility, healing, hope, illumination, inspiration, light, pregnancy/childbirth, prophecy, transformation, well-being & youth

Spellwork: Air magick, banishings, candle spells, divination, fertility spells, prosperity & purification

Activities:

• Make & light white candles

• Clean/decorate your altar & consecrate your altar tools

• Go on a walk in nature & look for signs of spring

• Make a Brigid's Cross

• Have a feast with your family/friends

• Give thanks & leave offerings to the Earth

• Set intentions, reflect & look deeper into your goals for spring

• Start a bonfire

• Find Imboloc prayers & devotionals that bid farewell to the winter months, honor the goddess Brigid, as well as seasonal blessings for your meals, hearth, & home.

• Pepare plans for your upcoming garden

• Craft a priapic wand

• Spend time with children celebrating Imbolc by making crafts & or baking

• Practice divination & fire scrying

• Draw a cleansing ritual bath for yourself

• Meditate, reflect & say your farewells to winter

• Cleanse & clean your house to prepare for spring

• Create a Brídeóg: a doll of Brigid made of straw

• Make Bride's bouquet satchets & exchange as symbols of good luck and fertility

• Set aside food & or drinks as an offering to Brigid to invite her in your home

Imbolc is a Gaelic festival marking the beginning of spring. Most commonly it is held on January 31 – February 1, or halfway between the winter solstice & the spring equinox. The holiday is a festival of the hearth, home, a celebration of the lengthening days & the early signs of spring.

The word "imbolc" means "in the belly" and refers to the pregnancy of ewes at this time of year. The term "oimelc" means ewe's milk. Around this time of year, many herd animals give birth to their first offspring of the year or are heavily pregnant & as a result, they are producing milk. This creation of life’s milk is a part of the symbolic hope for spring.

Imbolc is mentioned in some of the earliest Irish literature and it is associated with important events in Irish mythology. It has been suggested that it was originally a pagan festival associated with the goddess Brigid and that it was Christianized as a festival of Saint Brigid, who herself is thought to be a Christianization of the goddess.

Some use Imbolc to celebrate the longer days which herald the return of Spring & The Goddess's recovery from giving birth to The Sun (The God) at Yule. The God & The Goddess are children symbolizing new life, new beginnings & new resurrections.

Related festivals:

• Groundhog Day- Is a tradition observed in the United States & Canada on February 2 of every year. It derives from the Pennsylvania Dutch superstition that if a groundhog emerges from its burrow on this day & sees its shadow, it will retreat to its den & winter will go on for six more weeks; if it does not see its shadow, spring will arrive early.

While the tradition remains popular in the 21st century, studies have found no consistent association between a groundhog seeing its shadow & the subsequent arrival time of spring-like weather.

•St. Brigid's Day- 1 February. It was originally Imbolc, the first day of spring in Irish tradition. Because Saint Brigid has been theorised as linked to the goddess Brigid, some associate the festival of Imbolc with the goddess. St. Brigid is the patroness saint (or 'mother saint') of Ireland. She is patroness of many things, including poetry, learning, healing, protection, blacksmithing, livestock & dairy production. In her honour, a perpetual fire was kept burning at Kildare for centuries.

A recent campaign successfully established her feast day as a national holiday in 2023.

• Chinese New Year- (February 10th) the festival that celebrates the beginning of a new year on the traditional lunisolar Chinese calendar. In Chinese, the festival is commonly referred to as the Spring Festival,- marking the end of winter and the beginning of the spring season. Observances traditionally take place from Chinese New Year's Eve, the evening preceding the first day of the year, to the Lantern Festival, held on the 15th day of the year. The first day of Chinese New Year begins on the new moon that appears between January 21st & February 20th.

The Chinese New Year is associated with several myths and customs. The festival was traditionally a time to honour deities as well as ancestors. Within China, regional customs and traditions concerning the celebration of the New Year vary widely & the evening preceding the New Year's Day is frequently regarded as an occasion for Chinese families to gather for the annual reunion dinner.

It is also a tradition for every family to thoroughly clean their house, in order to sweep away any ill fortune & to make way for incoming good luck. Another custom is the decoration of windows & doors with red paper-cuts and couplets. Popular themes among these paper-cuts and couplets include good fortune or happiness, wealth & longevity. Other activities include lighting firecrackers & giving money in red envelopes.

• Candlemas- is a Christian feast day on February 2nd commemorating the presentation of Jesus at the Temple. It is based upon the account of the presentation of Jesus in Luke 2:22-40.

While it is customary for Christians in some countries to remove their Christmas decorations on Twelfth Night, those in other Christian countries historically remove them after Candlemas.On Candlemas, many Christians also take their candles to their local church, where they are blessed and then used for the rest of the year.

•Setsubun- (February 3rd) Is the day before the beginning of spring in the old calendar in Japan. The name literally means 'seasonal division', referring to the day just before the first day of spring.

Both Setsubun & Risshun are celebrated yearly as part of the Spring Festival (Haru matsuri ) in Japan. In its association with the Lunar New Year, Setsubun, though not the official New Year, was thought of as similar in its ritual & cultural associations of 'cleansing' the previous year as the beginning of the new season of spring. Setsubun was accompanied by a number of rituals & traditions held at various levels to drive away the previous year's bad fortunes & evil spirits for the year to come.

Other Celebrations:

• Lupercalia-

In ancient Rome, this festival was conducted annually on February 13th through 15th under the superintendence of a corporation of priests called Luperci. The origins of the festival are obscure, although the likely derivation of its name from lupus (Latin: “wolf”) has variously suggested connection with an ancient deity who protected herds from wolves and with the legendary she-wolf who nursed Romulus and Remus. As a fertility rite, the festival is also associated with the god Faunus.

to purify the city, promoting health & fertility.

Each Lupercalia began with the sacrifice by the Luperci of goats and a dog, after which two of the Luperci were led to the altar, their foreheads were touched with a bloody knife & the blood was wiped off with wool dipped in milk; the ritual required that the two young men laugh. The sacrificial feast followed, after which the Luperci cut thongs from the skins of the sacrificial animals & ran in two bands around the Palatine hill, striking with the thongs at any woman who came near them. A blow from the thong was supposed to render a woman fertile.

In 494 CE the Christian church under Pope Gelasius I forbade participation in the festival. Tradition holds that he appropriated the form of the rite as the Feast of the Purification (Candlemas), celebrated on February 2, but it is likely that the Christian feast was established in the previous century. It has also been alternately suggested that Pope Gelasius I replaced Lupercalia with St. Valentine’s Day, celebrated on February 14th, but the origin of that holiday was likely much later.

Sources:

Farmersalmanac .com

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

Wikipedia

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

Encyclopedia britannica

Llewellyn 2024 magical almanac Practical magic for everyday living

292 notes · View notes

thelandboundseawitch · 9 months

Text

🐏Imbolc🐏

Imbolc, also known as Candlemas, or Brigid's Day, is a sabbat which celebrates the end of winter and the coming of spring. Groundhog's Day, a holiday celebrated in North America at this time, is very also celebrates the end of winter. The waking trees, softening and reviving Earth, and the return of the goddess. Imbolc starts on February 1st and lasts until sunset the next day.

Activities

Candle-making

Spring Cleaning

Create a Brigid Cross with straw

Plan your spring garden

Bake bread

Make potpourri

Make corn dollies

Make herbal tea

Take a hot bath

Making flower crowns or floral wreaths

Altar Decorations

White Candles

Brigid Cross

Corn Dollies

Flowers

Seeds and bulbs

Bread

Sheep and Lambs

Goddess Statues

Animals

Deer

Groundhog

Bear

Lamb

Ewe

Swan

Colors

White

Pale Green

Pale Pink

Pale Yellow

Lavender

Pale Brown

Crystals

Amethyst

Garnet

Onyx

Ruby

Turquoise

Bloodstone

Calcite

Moonstone

Deities

Bridgid

Gaia

Aphrodite

Venus

Hestia

Cupid

Eros

Flowers

Lavender

Chamomile

Daffodil

Crocus

Iris

Snowdrop

Food

Grains

Oats

Herbal Teas

Nuts

Bread

Potatoes

Seed

Honey

Milk

Cheese

White Meat

Raisins

Spice Cake

Incense and Oils

Frankincense

Jasmine

Myrrh

Rosemary

Basil

Wisteria

Vanilla

Lotus

Plants & Herbs

Angelica (Wild Celery)

Basil

Bay Laurel(Bay Leaf)

Rosemary

Cinnamon

Hay / Straw

Willow

Birch

Juniper

Spells and Rituals

Imbolc is the perfect time to cast spells, especially ones related to new beginnings, fertility, and the hearth. Spells regarding birth and rebirth are also seasonally appropriate due to many animals giving birth at this time of the year.

Final Notes

According to an old english folk tradition, if the weather is fine and clear on Candlemas, then cold and stormy weather will reign for the remaining weeks of winter. And bad weather at the beginning of February is a harbinger of a milder winter, and an early thaw.

There are different meanings for what Imbolc means, some say it means “In the belly” because of herding animals being pregnant. But historically Imbolc comes from the Gaelic word “Oimelc” which means “ewes milk”, because some animals have just given birth.

324 notes · View notes

descargassims · 11 months

Text

Scented Candles 🪔

16 swatches: 🌼 Jasmine 🍦 Vanilla Ice Cream 🎋 Bamboo 💜 Lavender 🎂 Chocolate Birthday Cake 🌿 Eucalyptus & Peppermint 🍹 Tropical Fun 🎃 Pumpkin Pie ☕ Caramel Latte 🍓 Strawberry Happiness 🍋 Citric Energy 👻 Spooky Woods 🍎 Apple Cinnamon 🎄 Christmas Joy 🧜‍♀️ Ocean Mermaid ✨ Magic Hour

Mesh by NynaeveDesign. Converted and retextured by me.

DOWNLOAD at my blog!

#ts4cc #sims 4 cc #the sims 4 #s4cc #sims 4 #sims 4 decor #sims 4 clutter #ts4 #sims 4 objects #sims 4 decoracion #sims 4 candles #sims 4 scented candles #sims 4 halloween #sims 4 christmas #sims 4 lights

396 notes · View notes

goosefruit · 10 months

Text

surprise!

vanessa shelly x reader

tw: none really, slight mention of william afton killing kids

a/n: this is really random but i love the way vanessa says "frickin'" in the movie so i included it in this fic

================================================

You scanned the room around you one last time, checking that everything was in place as planned.

Gold and white balloons adorned every corner, streamers hung off the ceiling, and a romantic candle-lit dinner was prepared on the dining table. The only thing missing was the subject of celebration, who you suspected should be arriving any moment now.

"Happy birthday!" You cried out as Vanessa finally stepped through the front door. She was immediately taken aback; however, her expression quickly became one of joy.

"What is all this, Y/N? You didn't have to!"

You knew that Vanessa didn't like to make a big deal out of her birthday. Hell, you weren't even sure if she remembered that today was her special day, with the way she never mentioned it (in fact, the only reason you knew her birthday was because of that singular time it slipped into the conversation when you were just a month into dating).

"Nessa, babe. I know you have a hard time celebrating yourself, but today is your day, so let me help you feel special, m'kay?" You helped her out of her work gear and guided her to the dining table. Arranged was a variety of all her favourite dishes, alongside a vase of roses. You gave a shy laugh; the food had taken you several attempts before it was satisfactory. "I'm not the best cook, but I tried my best."

"God, I don't even know what to say," Vanessa couldn't suppress the grin that stretched across her face. "Thank you so much, my love. You are the sweetest frickin' angel ever."

One hand cupped your cheek and the other found its home on your waist as she pulled you in for a kiss, her cherry flavoured-lips fitting perfectly against your own. She smelled amazing, like an elixir of vanilla and jasmine that you had now associated with warmth and comfort.

"How about we eat before the food gets cold, and continue this later?" You whispered when you finally pulled apart for air, your face a centimetre away from hers.

"You're right. I gotta see if I should make you do all the cooking from now on."

Dinner was filled with laughter, flirty exchanges, and your girlfriend complimenting your culinary skills. You swore that your face was bright red by the end of it, with her praises and the way she made you giggle till you couldn't breathe.

"Alright, alright, if you thought the steak was good, just wait till you see the cake," you got up and proudly made your way to the fridge.

"There's cake too? You're going to put me into a food coma!"

"Wouldn't be a birthday without a cake. Made it myself too," the excitement in your voice was evident as you set down a colourful cake on the table. Vanessa gasped as she took a closer look.

On the cake was your best attempt at drawing you, Vanessa, and the four animatronics in icing. You were definitely not a professional artist, but your years of art lessons as a kid paid off, if you said so yourself. It was a depiction of your girlfriend's favourite picture: one taken at the pizzeria while the six of you danced to music, Vanessa in your arms as the animatronics looked on with joy (as best as they could, in their robotic ways).

You looked to her for approval, but were alarmed when you were met with her tear-streaked face instead.

She caught you staring in concern and buried her face in her hands, shoulders trembling as she sobbed. You had rarely seen Vanessa cry like this, not even after almost getting murdered by her own father.

"Vanessa? What's wrong, sweetheart?" You wrapped an arm around her, thumb rubbing her shoulder comfortingly.

"I'm sorry," she lifted her head to look up at you with teary eyes. It was astounding how beautiful she looked, despite her smudged mascara and red puffy eyes. "I'm not sad, I promise. It's just, as cheesy as this sounds, no one has ever made me feel this important before. I think you're the first person in this world that has ever loved me like this."

"Baby," you kissed her forehead, on the verge of crying yourself.

"And I can see that you put in so much effort to learn all these little details about me, not to mention the time you must have spent putting this whole thing together. Y/N- fuck, I feel like I don't deserve you."

You rested your head on the nape of her neck, your hand finding hers to interlace your fingers together,

"The last time I had a birthday party, I was eight," she continued with a sniffle. "And,"

A sigh interrupted her sentence, and you could guess that this next part was hard for her to say:

"You know, when there’s a bunch of unsuspecting, innocent children around, my father...h-he takes advantage of that. I begged him to never have a birthday party again after that, because though I might not have been able to stop him, I couldn't bear to be an accomplice to his crimes."

Vanessa's father really messed her up----that much you knew----but it still broke your heart every time you heard her speak about it.

"What he did will never be your fault, Nessa. I love you more than you know, and I need you to know that you deserve nothing but the best."

She cracked a weak smile. "Okay, okay, enough sob stories. I want to be in a good mood when we cut this gorgeous cake of yours."

"You know what, I have something else that may be able to cheer you up." You shook your head in amusement. "Don't you wanna see the presents I got you?"

From behind the living room couch, you grabbed a large gift bag and presented it to her.

And oh did she love it. She couldn’t stop squealing in excitement as she opened your present: a book that was on her reading list, a candle with her favourite scent, a gold necklace that you caught her eyeing at the jewelry store, and a photo album filled with pictures of the two of you.

The cherry on top was a heartfelt card that brought tears to her eyes, once again.

“And also,” you began to unbutton the top of your blouse, allowing her to catch a glimpse of the hot pink lingerie underneath. “A bonus gift.”

“Holy shit, I really am spoiled!”

#vanessa shelly #vanessa shelly x reader #vanessa fnaf #fnaf x reader #vanessa shelly fluff #vanessa monroe #vanessa afton #birthday fluff

194 notes · View notes

organic-artisanal-hrisikesh · 1 year

Text

Enhancing your bath and body time with jasmine and vanilla-scented candles is a delightful way to infuse tranquilly and luxury into your self-care routine. The calming effect of jasmine combined with the comforting aroma of vanilla creates the perfect ambience for relaxation and rejuvenation.

#best-scented candles #scented candle #perfume candles #fragrance candle #Vanilla and jasmine candles #jasmine vanilla candle #Jasmine and vanilla scented candles

0 notes

korpuskristae · 4 months

Text

Jasmine and Rose - The Air Tastes Just Like You

Warnings: Severus being a moody grump, reference to cannon death, foreshadowing, set during Philosopher’s Stone but no specific references are made, Religious references and guilt

Pairing: Severus Snape x Female Reader, reader uses she/her pronouns

Word Count: 800+

Summary: Severus brews amortentia with his students only to find the scent has changed.

Part 2 Part 3

AN: This is my first time posting fanfiction on this account and to my surprise, I really enjoyed writing this. Ignore any grammar and spelling mistakes, I glanced over this before posting. I wrote this little drabble (it's now much longer than I anticipated and will be split into multiple parts) while listening to Jasmine and Rose by Clan of Xymox so I guess you could consider this a borderline song fic. Here's the song if you’re interested in listening, if you like it you should check out my Sev playlist on Spotify. (Also give me Sev smut ideas, I’m ITCHING to write smth, no teacher-student stuff)

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿ ☆ ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

Read on AO3

Hunched over a cauldron, Severus stood in the middle of his dark classroom, his face illuminated only by a candle he’d lit hours ago which had been reduced to a mere stub at this point.

Grumbling to himself, he meticulously cut up some herbs and threw them into the cauldron with a flourish and a flick of his wand to clear off his workbench. Impatiently waiting for the potion to finish brewing, he attempted to busy himself with something, anything, to get his mind off of his current predicament.

A few moments of contemplation passed before that same scent, that damnable scent, snapped him out of his thoughts.

He had to have been insane.

Perhaps he was losing his touch? Even the most knowledgeable scholars have been known to have days where even the simplest of tasks elude them… it was true he hadn’t slept in a while, maybe he was simply imagining things.

Yes, he was just imagining things.

That was the only logical conclusion. He found comfort in the fact that It wasn’t a problem with him but rather his sleep schedule, for once, just maybe, something wasn’t his fault.

His momentary relief of guilt came crashing down upon smelling the scent, your scent, yet again, only this time much stronger.

Still refusing to believe it, he reasoned it must have been some mistake on his part. Maybe he was daft. Furiously waving his wand, he cleared the cauldron of its contents and extinguished the flame underneath.

“Evanesco,” he muttered bitterly as he dramatically spun on his heel before marching over to the potions storeroom.

He was going to settle this once and for all.

He had to be doing something wrong. Maybe the herbs were stored improperly and therefore lost their potency, maybe he measured out the wrong amount of one of the ingredients, maybe…

It didn’t matter in the end.

The possibilities of potential errors were endless. In the art of potioneering, even the smallest of errors could result in entirely different outcomes, perhaps this was one of those cases.

In reality, he didn’t care why or how, he already knew he must’ve, no, definitely, made a mistake somewhere during the brewing process. He had to have…

For the last fifteen years of his miserable life, his Amortentia had smelt like the same thing, lilies. Lilies with a hint of willow bark and the overwhelming smell of vanilla.

Unmistakably Lily’s scent.

Every. year. Every single year he had to teach those insufferable brats how to brew the cursed potion he was tormented by the memory of Lily. Reminded of how he had failed to protect her, reminded of how he had hurt her, and reminded of how one stupid mistake landed him a life sentence of servitude to not one but two wizards. Trapping him right in the middle of a war, ensuring his life would forever be dedicated to finding redemption.

Knowing one day, he’d give his life to atone for his mistake.

He carried with him the burden of his guilt three hundred sixty five days a year, twenty four seven, and he would carry it until the end of his days.

But that day, as if to rub salt in the wound, was his own personal hell, personally delegated to him by God, if there even was one, dedicated to guilt and self hatred.

Severus was God’s very own crowned patron saint of guilt and he felt it necessary for his saint to be subject to his very virtue.

Today was that day, his saintly day if you will, or rather, was supposed to be that day.

While everyone usually tended to give Severus a wide berth, students and staff alike avoided the potions master like the plague whenever the Amortentia lesson drew near. Already known for his intimidating demeanor and hot-headed attitude, the week of the lesson was among the worst for those unfortunate enough to be in his presence.

Even the smallest of provocations would cause Severus to fly off the handle and berate whoever was unlucky enough to be within his general vicinity.

Naturally, Hogwarts’s rumor mill was working overtime to come up with a plausible explanation for the Potions Master’s increased irritability.

But no one rumor stuck around for too long, and eventually, students would grow bored after a week or two, moving on to the next piece of hot gossip, of which there was no shortage.

Nevertheless, Severus never paid any mind to the school’s gossip, at least not since he was a student. He found it endearing how valiantly you defended him in front of students who dared to bad mouth him around you, he’d never admit it, but knowing someone didn’t see him as an emotionless bat of the dungeons made him feel just a little bit better about himself.

(Sorry for abrupt ending, will be a part 2 :p)

#pro severus snape #severus snape #severus x reader #severus x you #snape x reader #harry potter #Spotify #snape fandom #pro severus #i love severus #snape fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction

62 notes · View notes

domnamewoman · 10 months

Note

love love love your submissive mk writing. 😽😽😽 Please write femdom!reader and sub!Johnny, girl I’m begging.

Title: Let Me Please You

Summary: You feel like Johnny hasn’t been making you a priority lately, so you make him regret it. (I don’t know 🤷🏾‍♀️)

Warnings: Dom!Fem!Reader x Sub!Johnny Cage, Smut, 18+

Word Count: 1,937

Masterlist

Requests Are Open

You place the last fork on the table and stand back to admire your work. The table is elegantly set for two, with lit candles and a floral centerpiece as decoration. You smooth your hands down your silk, spaghetti-strap dress as you check off your to-do list in your head. The table is set, candles are lit, dinner is cooling on the counter, drinks are chilled, and the Bluetooth speaker is emanating some smooth romantic jazz throughout your home. The only thing missing is Johnny. Your cell phone buzzes as if on cue.

“Right on time.”

You happily jog to the kitchen to retrieve your phone from the island. Smiling to yourself, you unlock your phone and open Johnny’s message. Your smile quickly turns into a frown once you read its contents.

Johnny:

Hey babe, I won’t be home until later. Producers are going out for drinks.

You:

Johnny, we were supposed to have a romantic evening together. I made dinner and everything.

Johnny:

I know, I’m sorry hun, but Daniel Evans is going to be there. I’ve been trying to brush shoulders with him for a while. It’s the perfect time to pitch him the screenplay I’ve been working on. I promise I’ll make it up to you.

“Urrgh,” You groan as your eyes roll. Sure you supported Johnny’s career, but you can’t help feeling like you are constantly being put on the back burner.

Annoyed, you don’t bother responding and put your phone back on the island. Whatever, you won’t let Johnny’s absence ruin your night.

You walk to the table, collect Johnny’s dishes, and put them away, then grab your plate and walk over to the homemade lasagna resting near the stove. You serve yourself some pasta and grab a piece of garlic bread. After pouring yourself something to drink you sit at the table with your food.

Taking a bite of lasagna, you moan around your fork as flavor explodes on your tongue. You did your thing, sis! You compliment yourself as you take your time, savoring every bite. Johnny was truly missing out.

After you finish, you blow out the candles, then take your dishes to the sink and clean them. You might as well, right? You place the leftover lasagna into a Tupperware container and put it away. You turn off the Bluetooth speaker on your way to your bedroom.

You sigh as you slip out of your dress. You really didn’t think you would be undressing yourself tonight. You enter the connecting bathroom and start to run yourself a bath.

You pick up Johnny’s favorite bathbomb and toss it into the tub. If only Johnny knew just how much you planned for him. The jerk.

Reaching over to shut off the water, you climb into the tub and take a seat. The warm water envelops you and you feel your muscles start to relax. You breathe in the calming scents of jasmine and vanilla and sink further into the tub, splashing water over your neck and shoulders. You really were in need of a pamper evening.

You soak in the water until it turns cold and your fingers are pruney. Unstopping the drain, you exit the tub and wrap your fluffy towel around your body. You make your way to the bedroom feeling completely relaxed.

Running the towel over your skin, you collect all the droplets of water. Once dry, you throw the towel into the hamper and make your way to the dresser. Opening the top drawer, you pull out your favorite vibrator and caress it fondly. It's been a while.

You walk to the foot of the bed and splay out, not bothering to move up to the top. You drop the vibrator next to you as you feel your arousal from the past week hit you full force. You aren’t in a rush, you will take your time enjoying yourself.

You run your hands over your abdomen and knead the soft flesh. Your hands trail up to your boobs and you cup the lobes, giving them a gentle squeeze. You release a needy moan as you tease your nipples between your fingers. The pinches and twists send tingles of pleasure straight to your core.

Not wanting to wait any longer, you trail one of your hands down to your pussy and feel your wetness coat your fingers. Using your middle finger, you rub circles into your clit. Your head tilts back in pleasure.

“Yeees…” You moan out, increasing your speed.

“Baby?” You hear Johnny call out from the living room. When did he get back? You must have been too distracted to hear the front door open. Oh well, his arrival changes nothing.

Johnny opens the door to your bedroom and pauses in the doorway.

“Baby…”

You can swear you hear him gulp as his eyes rake over you. You know you are a sight to behold, spread out on the bed completely naked, hand between your thighs. Too bad. He could have had all of this had he come home. You ignore him and release another moan as you let your legs fall open a little wider. You aren’t above putting on a show.

“Look, I-I’m sorry for coming home late.” He tries, as he inches into the bedroom toward the end of the bed.

“I’m used to it,” You say as you slowly insert three fingers inside yourself.

“Come on, love…” Johnny rushes to the foot of the bed looking down at you. “It was a rare chance to get Daniel Evans to look at my work. You understand, right?”

“Of course I do, Jonathan.”

Johnny whines at the use of his full name and he sinks to his knees in front of you. “No, I’m your Johnny boy, Jon Jon, Sexy J-”

“When have I ever called you that?”

“-The point is, you never call me Jonathan unless you're mad.”

“Well, I’m not happy.”

“I’m sorry. I know we haven’t had a lot of time together recently,” He rushes to finish when you start to interject, “And that’s completely on me. I’ll make more of an effort to not let work interfere with our time.”

You could never stay mad a him for long. Softie.

“Ugh, fine. Now shut up, you are ruining the vibe,” You complain as you curl your fingers inside of you.

Johnny grips both of your ankles and pulls them up so your knees are bent and your feet are resting on the edge of the bed. Johnny starts running his hands up and down your calves as he kisses your knee and makes his way down to your thigh.

“You know, I’d love to help with your vibe.”

“Thanks, but my “vibe” doesn’t need any help,” You quip as you reach over and grab your vibrator from where you dropped it earlier.

“Are you serious?” Johnny asks incredulously.

“Absolutely, you still need to be punished for blowing me off earlier. You aren’t allowed to touch me until I say you can. Now hands off,” You say as you swat at his hands resting on your calves.

Johnny begrudgingly lets go and sits back on his heels, hands resting on his thighs.

You raise up and support your upper body with one elbow as you swipe the vibrator along your folds, coating it in your juices. You start to guide it into your entrance and look up at Johnny.

His eyes are trained on the vibrator slowly disappearing in your pussy. His tongue darts out and runs over his lips. You know he wants nothing more than to have his mouth on you. Johnny loved eating you out and pulling moan after moan from you. You loved letting him do it.

“Mmmh…” You begin to push and pull the vibrator in and out of you faster and faster.

“Please…” Johnny gasps.

You knew it wouldn’t take him long to start begging. The only kink that rivaled Johnny’s love of giving oral, was his need for praise. He felt as though every moan you made was a tiny compliment of how good he was and how good he made you feel. You know he can’t stand watching a vibrator give you the pleasure that he should be giving you and drawing out moans that he should be receiving. You decide to torture him a little more.

Using your thumb to press a button on the vibrator, you arch your back as it buzzes to life.

“Oh my… Yes! Ha-aaah… it feels so good!” You exclaim as you throw your head back in pleasure.

“Please…” You roll your head around to focus your eyes back on Johnny. His fists are clenched tight in an effort to not reach out and touch you. “Please baby, let me make you cum.”

You smirk at him. “Hmm… I don’t know Johnny, this vibrator is doing a pretty good job. Mmm… Think you’ll be any better?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “I know I will.”

He stares at you with desperate determination. His carnal desire to pleasure you coils something in your stomach and is almost enough to make you cum right now.

“Prove it.”

Johnny snatches the vibrator out of your hand and tosses it to the side. He quickly pulls your legs over his shoulders and starts devouring you like a starving man.

You bite your lip to hold back a moan, not wanting to give him the satisfaction so soon.

He takes your silence as a challenge and inserts three of his fingers into you, immediately curling them up and finding your G-spot. Johnny prided himself on knowing your body like the back of his hand.

You decide you have punished him enough. How can you not reward your baby when he is being so good and pleasuring you like this?

“Yes, baby… just like that! Mmm… you are doing so good for me!” You run your fingers through his hair and tug on it just the way he likes.

Johnny moans around your clit and the vibrations pull you closer to the edge.

“Uuh… Johnny… a-are you going to be a good boy… a-and make me cum?”

Johnny nods into you and starts quickly flicking his tongue over your clit and drills his fingers into you faster, hitting your G-spot every time. Your back arches and you grip his hair in one hand and the sheets in the other.

“Yes! That’s it, baby… Uuh you feel so good! Mmm… I-I’m so… close… Ah… Johnny!”

You clench around his fingers as you drown them in your release. Johnny slows to a stop and gently removes his fingers, kissing your inner thigh and looking up at you adoringly.

You moan, coming down from your high, and grab at him, pulling him on top of you. Johnny wraps his arms around you and nuzzles into your neck and you wrap your legs around his waist.

“So, was I better than the vibrator?” Johnny asks, raising his head to look at you.

You playfully roll your eyes and huff out, “Yes Johnny, you were better than the vibrator.”

“Yes! Cage for the win. Nothing and no one can make you cum like I can.”

“Sure, sure. Speaking of, do you need some help?” You pointedly grind up into him and are surprised when you don’t feel his erection.

“Are you kidding? Do you think I can hear you moaning for me like that and not shoot a load in my pants?”

You shake your head as you chuckle at the fact he came untouched. “You are such a praise slut.”

“Hey, why do you think I’m an actor?”

#domnamewoman #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage #jonathan carlton #mk #mk1

150 notes · View notes

floydsglasses · 8 months

Text

Dagger Squad as Bath and Body Works Smells

So its January and its time for B&BW to roll out the good not fruity smells so why not do this, so enjoy my unhinged ness.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 "𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫" 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰-𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲

This was not that hard for me to choose, he reminds me of an old car smell, like a jeep that was hidden in a garage for to long and is now being driven. This candle smells like warm leather, amber woods and aged brandy, its described as a nightcap in your recliner.

𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 "𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐚𝐧" 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧- 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧

The irony of me finding this candle name, when i think of him like i think some type of hickory sweet honey smell, like a dive bar in the mountains. This candle smells like Warm Whiskey, Bergamot, Cedarwood & Amber and its described as warm, friendly aroma of a fresh & clean southern gentleman on date night

𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚 "𝐏𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐱" 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞- 𝐑𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 & 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 Honestly this whole candle to me scream's her, like the coloring remind's me of her and the whole smell, she seem's like the kind of person to wear a flannel when lounging around her house. This candle smells like, pink raspberries, strawberry vanilla bean and sugared lemon drops. and Its described as : a lightly tart and perfectly creamy treat.

𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 "𝐁𝐨𝐛" 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝-𝐋𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

When I think of him I think a type of sweet airy smell, like watching the morning sun in the mountains during the summer, and you cant tell me that this man doesn't remind you of just that. This candle smells like crisp autumn air, white driftwood and a hint of green apple. and is described as cool, sweet, fresh alone time on the dock.

𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐲 "𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐲" 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐚- 𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝

I will not lie he was kind of hard to choose for, I imagine him having a sweet smell but also obtaining this masculine wood like smell, like I can just see it. This candle smells like Red Apple, Plum, Soft Pear, Jasmine, Peony, Cedarwood, Patchouli, Vanilla, Musk and is also described as crisp woodland walk with sweet apple aroma in the air.

𝐑𝐮𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐧 "𝐏𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤" 𝐅𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡- 𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐧

I know that this might be like so basic as a masculine type smell but he just for some reason seems like he would smell like a wood barrel that has been aged perfectly, like if you opened a perfect bottle of bourbon and it tasted perfect. This candle smells like a bold, smooth, barrel-aged pour. Fragrance notes: white pepper, dark amber and Kentucky oak. and is also described as such, bold, smooth, barrel-aged pour.

𝐉𝐚𝐯𝐲 "𝐂𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐭𝐞" 𝐌𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨- 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐚 𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭

It's literally in the name, he reminds me of a beach plain and simple like that, like anything this man is like golden coast. This candle smells like Bright Citrus, Cool Waters, Sea Breeze & Beach Woods. And like my description this is told to be like, The smell of cool ocean waters fills the California coast.

By the way you all can get these candle's, i dont remember the price though so dont ask me lol.

#top gun maverick #top gun #top gun headcanons #top gun fan fiction #top gun fanfic #top gun fandom #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #natasha phoenix trace #robert bob floyd #mickey fanboy garcia #rueben payback fitch #javy coyote machado #dagger squad #floyd rants

124 notes · View notes

adarkandmagicalforest · 2 months

Text

an irritation part 8

ship: otto hightower/original female character (aella targaryen)

chapter warnings: rough oral sex (male receiving), religious idolatry, prayer

Next: Part Nine, Epilogue

Oldtown was like one large sept.

Seven-pointed stars and statues of the seven seemed to be everywhere she looked. When Lord Hobert Hightower, Otto's elder brother (who looked so similar to a weasel that it had actually made her lover look astoundingly handsome in comparison) had escorted them within the high tower itself, Aella couldn't help the wry look she shot to the Lord Hand as they passed the many carved idols to the Seven that decorated its walls. The entire place was alight with thousands of candles too, similar to the Sept in Kings Landing, their thousands of flames flickering from the floors and window ledges, the wax dripping onto the stone floor and over the rivers of existing wax that none had bothered to clean up.

The candles, she actually rather liked. The way the fires glowed against the diamond patterned windows and cast high shadows on the ceilings was mesmerizing, and the heat that came from them within these cool walls felt soothing as Aella danced her fingertips across them.

"Supper will be at dusk," Lord Hobert then said informatively, after his long-winded talk that he'd begun after their grand entrance at the bottom of the Tower. She of course, hadn't really been listening. Nor had the rest of her family, it seemed. The Lord of the High Tower appeared to have realized this, though his mouth was much thinner now. "Your chambers are prepared, and our servants have already brought your things up for you - unless," he paused, making quick eye contact with Otto, so obvious though she could tell he hadn't meant to be. "We are to be expecting another?"

In this, Viserys spoke, somewhat beleaguered. "I have sent men out to summon my brother from wherever he may be within your city, Lord Hightower. Not to worry. He knows not to cause such mischief outside of the streets of Kings Landing."

Lies. But they were lies Lord Hobert ate without protest before they were all escorted to chambers.

Daemon was going to cause some drama, as he always did.

What worried her now was what kind of drama.

Aella had never worried about what chaos Daemon would cause - so often, she was in the middle of it as well, his mirror and shadow, assisting in some, spearheading others. It was what had gained the two of them the notoriety and disdain of Otto Hightower for so very long.

It was unsettling now to not know - to not understand what he had planned.

A bath was waiting for her in the chambers when she finally stepped inside them - the maids, dressed all like some sort of Septa, each bowed to her as they finished their work.

"The Lord Hand said you would wish to wash before supper, Princess." The oldest one explained with a short nod of her head as the last of the hot pails of water filled the large copper tub. It was steaming with fragrance, like spiced ginger, cinnamon, jasmines and wild vanilla, while of the steaming water was floating with dried rose buds.

Aella dipped her fingertips in the water. Almost scalding. It made her fingertips go pink just from touching it for a few seconds.

"Would you be needing assistance with your hair, my lady?"

"No." She said shortly, reaching for the ties of her riding clothes without delay. "You may go."

The maids finished their work and left without dally, leaving her free to rid herself of her clothing and sink into the hot bath without delay.

The water was so hot that it relaxed her like a cup of mulled wine as soon as she sank inside of it. And it was there, leaning her head against the rim of her bathtub, drawing light designs on the top of her thigh with a warm contentment, that Aella thought it didn't matter what Daemon had planned for that evening. Let Daemon do as he wishes, she thought as she rose her wrist slowly out of the water, keeping a rosebud floating on the back of her hand, the feeling of it like the most gallant of kisses. As long as I am able to continue as I am. And if he irritates me horribly, then I will be chaining myself to Otto's bed.

/~/

Supper in the High Tower's great Hall was a return to childhood.

It had been many years since his House had housed a visiting King, and his brother Hobert had seemed to pull out every piece of elegant finery they had access to within the Tower.

Gold candlesticks from Queen Alysanne's time, finely embroidered tablecloths with silk threads from Yi Ti, and one of the greatest bounties of fresh spring fruits and vegetables from all over the Reach. Strings of blown glass balls with lit oils within them glowed over their table, while ropes of ivory wisteria on dark green vines drooped down to kiss at the cornucopia of grapes and spring cherries. Musicians and singers had been stationed in the corner to fill their dinner with noise, their harps and lyres sending their notes dancing through the hall.

Though, Otto thought as his gaze became far more trained on the entrance of his princess, each display of finery his brother had brought to impress had all paled in comparison to Aella Targaryen as she entered into the dining hall - ten minutes late, as she usually was.

Her hair was worn in loose waves, intimate and smelling of jasmine and ginger. Her lilac eyes were subdued and calm, and her presence was as it should be - confident, pleased and mischievous. The ivory silks she wore danced around her ankles as she stepped to Viserys where he sat at the head of the table, taking a moment to kiss him on his freshly shaved cheek before taking her seat.

Otto had re-arranged the seating before his brother could complain. He'd switched his princess' seat with his brother's wife, Lynesse's, so that Aella would instead be seated directly across from him. None had appeared to notice that this was changed - none, that is, except for Queen Aemma, who'd looked at him from the corner of her eye when the princess had lowered herself into the walnut chair.

"As you've all arrived at a later hour, we've prepared a days long feast for you all tomorrow, after morning prayers. That is when dear Gwayne will be arriving from the Citadel." Lynesse explained as the lights were lowered and she clasped her hands together over her empty plate, signalling the desire to bless the meal.

Aella looked at him over the glowing candles. Her lilac eyes were half lowered and mocking, the corner of her lips were curled in a smirk and her ivory skin kissed by the flickering candlelight made any image of the maiden pale in comparison. How could any worship a piece of stone as a goddess when the one in front of him, crafted from fire and a rider of an ancient beast tied to her by blood, was sat in front of him? And... with her foot traveling up to rub against his calf, no less? There was no prince, prophet nor priest as blessed as he was, to be the object of her desire.

Even if it was at such a damnably horrid time of her to choose.

Otto clasped his hands in front of him and pointedly shut his eyes for prayer, attempting to ignore the small, wandering stocking covered foot that was currently exploring the inside of his thigh.

Devilish thing. Even now, during the lengthy prayer to each of the Seven, seated with their families within his ancestral home, Aella could not help herself - he didn't know why her lack of respect surprised him. Perhaps it was simply because she was always so keen on surprising him regardless.

" - and blessed be the Stranger, who upon our final sleep, should carry us peacefully from our beds, and bring our new beginnings." Lynesse finished, finally breaking the trance and beginning the dinner properly.

To his relief (and disappointment) his lovers foot retreated just as supper was placed on the table, though Otto knew better than to believe her mischief was done with.

Supper was served. Through the soup course, a thin, green soup full of herbs, Aella hummed.

She was not a very musical girl and currently her humming was of a higher tone than her usual register.

Otto mistrusted it immediately.

When the salad course was laid out, with frilly lettuce, cuts of white cherries and crumbled with goat cheese, the princess sighed with satisfaction, in a way he'd heard most frequently when he was deep inside of her. He was convinced every person at that table could hear it as keenly as he could, until he'd darted his eyes at the other dinner guests.

But none of them were paying any attention - only he was as focused on Aella enough that every little noise she made drew his gaze.

The wine, she savored.

The piecrust, she sucked the crumbs off her fingers.

It was to his relief that Aella was finally drawn into conversation with the King, so that he could finally begin tasting the food he'd been silently eating. He'd relaxed, marginally, to sip from his wine goblet. He'd barely managed to taste the hint of raspberry in the Highgarden blush before the sensation of a foot pressed between his thighs, sending the wine splashing into his mashed potatoes.

And the look she gave him. Openly instigating, openly daring and deadly. What man could survive her? What man could resist her? From the long curls of her lowered lashes over such otherworldly pale purple eyes, and the risen smirk on her coy lips. It was a look that said so clearly, 'Too much heat, my Lord?' All the while her foot ran up and down his leg.

If he were a weaker man, he would've stood from that very table, grabbed her by her loose hair and thrown her over the table and mounted her for the whole table to see.

"Am I to understand that I'll be calling you niece sometime soon, Princess?" Hobert's voice broke through his increasingly more dangerous thoughts, drawing attention to himself as he addressed Aella. The question made Otto itch, and he wiped his hands clean of the wine that he'd spilled to distract himself.

The princess looked unperturbed at the question, despite it all. Her narrow shoulders shrugged, and with an elegant hand, she reached up and pushed back her silky white blonde hair as she responded coolly, "I'm sorry to inform you that you're rather off-base my Lord. I've made no such acceptance to any man's proposal for me now. Nor will I."

"What do you mean, aunt?" Rhaenyra questioned from across the table, a look of intrigue in her eyes.

This was Otto's own instruction - to deny any proposal from his son. But to any man? This was new, this was not discussed. But Viserys was not scolding her, not instructing her otherwise. The Hand looked between King and Princess, and was shocked to find calm acceptance in the Lord of all Seven Kingdoms.

Viserys had agreed to allow her to be unmarried? No - an unmarried woman, a Targaryen, a dragonrider, was a person so valuable that letting her live unmarried would've been a waste. And yet somehow, it was the truth that her brother agreed to.

"Hatchling, have you not heard yet?" Aella asked, glancing back to Viserys, who did not look surprised but also did not seem like he wished her to speak on it. To his own surprise however, she obeyed the silent command of her brother. "The next Targaryen wedding shall be yours, my love. You'll just need to pick from the noble houses, then we'll have them duel, and then - "

The little princess took a roll of bread from her plate and threw it across the table at Aella, which missed her, instead knocking over a pitcher of water.

"No throwing food, girls!" Viserys said, though it was hardly a proper order, as he was still grinning as he scolded them.

They each didn't seem all that bothered by the scolding either - even Alicent, urged on by both Targaryen princesses, giggled into her hands at their silliness, which pleased his princess as she immediately began encouraging his daughter to join in ruining supper.

Otto hadn't seen Alicent smile so much since Alerie's passing.

She would make a fine mother.

When dinner was finished, tail-ended by a fine blood orange cake with a thick layer of icing sugar, his lover spoke up again, as innocent and soft as a maiden.

"Lady Hightower," Aella began. "Might you tell me how to enter the Sept from here? I'd like to make a few prayers before I rest for the night."

Lynesse had beamed with smug satisfaction, as if it was from her blessing over dinner that had turned the dragon princesses' foreign and strange ways, and immediately done so, explaining the exact directions on how to find the Sept below them. From the gilded window of the Warrior, turn left. At the right of the basin of blessed oils, enter the double doors.

They were fine directions - and Otto followed them some twenty minutes after they all disbanded, a future for himself, lovelier than any he had ever once hoped for, on his mind.

/~/

Aella never prayed, but the act of getting on her knees before the pillars of the Seven was arousing enough to keep her in place, lighting the little fires of the many candles.

The Sept here was different than Kings Landing's. There, a large circle of stone stood in the center of the room, where all of the statues looked on. Here, there was a large marble slab in front of the chosen facet, with it's own prayer candles. She chose the Father, a man with a neater beard and who held in his hands not a sword as the Warrior did, but a set of measuring scales. The inscription on his pillar read, 'The Father, he who divines justice and beholds his protection over all of his children.'

She knelt before it, placing her knees down on the marble below - only to pause. Aella reached her hand beneath her skirts, rubbing her fingers against the stone floor, feeling it. It was like someone had scattered rice there, embedded in the rock. Made purposely rough so that whoever sat to kneel did not do so without punishment. Hightowers.

It took a lot to not to allow her hand to wander up to her aching core between her legs at the rough sensation below her knees. She'd wait, she though with heady impatience, instead reaching forward and plucking a long piece of yew from the altar. She lit the end with one of the candles, and set a new wick aflame. It's hiss was the only sound in the whole of the Sept.

Until the sound of boots stepped over the marble.

Aella clasped her hands tighter in front of her, shutting her eyes as she listened to the steps come closer. Step, step, step. Closer every time.

Still, she 'prayed.'

Until the steps ceased, inches from her kneeling body.

"Why the Father?" Otto asked her, low.

"I like his beard." Aella said simply.

She could feel then the sensation of his leather boots against her silken skirts. He'd stepped over her kneeling form, his legs on either side of hers. The Hand's neat fingers then touched the back of her neck, drawing along the slope of her throat and then down to her narrow shoulders.

"Do you even know your prayers, princess?" His words were heady.

"Not even one."

At her rather pleased proclamation, Otto pinched the back of her neck hard, as if she was a kitten rather than a dragon. The pain was sharp and exciting, forcing a gasp from her lips as the Lord held nothing back as he punished her for her cheek.

"I know a better prayer than to the Seven, Otto," Aella said then, resisting the urge to put her hand beneath her skirts. Her cunt was hot and weeping, pushing her to touch herself - but she couldn't yet, she wanted this first.

The Hand's hand grasped at the front of her neck, his thumb stroking her softly. His hand was warm and just tight enough that if she swallowed, he could feel the muscles in her throat move. If he tightened his grip, he could steal her breath away.

"And what prayer is this?" He asked darkly.

The princess twisted away from the statue of one Father to another, casting her lilac eyes up at him slowly, hungrily, devouring all she saw.

The Lord Hand was somehow more delicious looking after this trip through the countryside and to the castle where he was sired. He was tall, so much taller than she was, towering over her even when she stood on her highest of tiptoes. His legs were long and sturdy, his waist narrow and his shoulders were broad and stronger than someone could expect of a politicking Hightower. And, she thought as she leaned herself forward to rest her chin on the top of his thigh, after a whole evening spent being forced to look his chinless brother in the face, he was looking all the more good-looking to her.

His beard was now neat and now far more nicely tidied by his barber. His hair was longer and formed loose curls that he'd swept back out of his face. Once, Otto had looked so plain to her. With a boring nose, boring eyes, boring face, which only served to become interesting when she successfully pushed him into outrage. Now, his dark oak-colored eyes were intense and sweltering, his features even and distinguished.

Aella lowered her eyes, soft as a sweet kitten, and reached for the laces on his breeches, pulling the ties loose in a purposely sloppy manner.

The Hand's breath hitched as he watched her pet his cock through the fabric, his dark eyes becoming touched with desire and something softer. The same look he'd given her when she'd woken in his arms in Cider Hall. The same he'd given her when she'd woven poppies in his little daughter's hair.

The dragon princess pulled his cock from the breeches, it's long, familiar heat welcoming in her palm.

"This is no prayer." Otto breathed to her, yet not stopping her. His hands ghosted over her hair, only the tips of his fingers moving along her loose white-blonde waves, as if by touching her it would break some spell between them. Some magicks, from her blood or his fire, existed in their air, between the connection of lilac and oak brown. Magicks that would dissipate the moment another looked upon them, as delicate as spun glass.

"Not to you," Aella countered, stroking him until the dark pink tip of his cock was weeping. "I have a more intimate relationship with prayer than you do." It was tempting like this, long and thick and as smooth as the silks she was draped in. She didn't typically enjoy a cock in her mouth - it was usually too much work and she was far too impatient to have to focus on not choking while sucking and bobbing her head all the while receiving no pleasure of her own.

But here, in a Sept, with his seven carved marble gods watching them?

She couldn't help herself.

"Fuck..." Otto groaned when she finally drew the tip of his cock into her mouth. The pale bead there was salty and unpleasant, but she liked the sound of him, so she rocked herself up further onto her knees, gripping his leg as leverage so she could take more of him in her throat. This served to cause an deep moan to emit from the Hand, who already looked overwhelmed and oh so hungry.

How could she not keep going when he was looking like this?

Aella swallowed back when her lips wrapped around the base of his cock, the heaviness of his cock in her throat making her want to wince. She began bobbing her head, her hair falling in the way of her face as she began rocking herself up and down on her knees, the coarse sensation of the pebbled marble beneath her causing a whimper to escape from her.

Finally, Otto touched her at the sound - his neat hands darted to her loose hair, gathering up her ivory curls until it was all in his fists, out of the way of her face, clearly misunderstanding the noise.

She gripped at his legs tighter, grunting as she began moving faster. Her legs were starting to tire from the way she was moving and tears were beginning to bead up in her eyes.

It was no use though, he didn't taste like he was close to coming. But Aella couldn't wait that long, she was too wet and aching to wait. She delved her hand from his leg to her cunt, shoving her silks out of the way so she could swipe desperately at her soaking folds. Pleasure twisted at her, need demanding more and more, but her hand wouldn't be enough at this rate.

And then suddenly the hands in her hair became as punishing as steel - before she began getting fucked.

All bobbing of her head and sucking of his cock was ceased immediately as her lover took her every action from her. His grip was tight on her hair, and his other hand reached for the side of her face, so she couldn't back away while he began thrusting himself hard and fast down her throat. Otto took no care for her comfort, her squirming. He just fucked her, letting her go limp, just weakly hold herself to his long legs as he drove himself harder and harder into her face. Past him, she could see the stained glass of the Sept, glowing from the thousand low-burning candles at each of the seven altars in the room. Over Otto's shoulder was the Mother, big with child and with a welcome, forgiving expression carved into her lovely features.

And a daze entered her mind, airy and dreamy and wanting.

Aella smashed her hand against the back of Otto's thigh, just when she knew he was getting so close to finishing down her throat, his hips stuttering. He stopped and cursed at the strike, but he had no time to protest or punish her before she'd pushed him down onto the floor of the Sept, desperately moving over him.

"Finish inside me!" She demanded hurriedly, scrambling onto his lap with an urgency that transcended out into the room. If the moths or ants that lived in the Sept were watching, they were surely as transfixed as Otto's Andal gods were around them. "Finish inside me, Otto, if you don't - "

The Hand grabbed onto her waist and thrust hard inside of her, his face strained as he attempted to fuck her properly. But he couldn't last long, not when he'd been so thoroughly debauching her throat the way he had been. He filled her quickly, his fingers digging into her hips as he drove up into her, his own cum dripping out of her and back onto his pelvis as he tried to make her peak with him, but to no avail.

"Let me," he said hoarsely, pulling at her skirts and twisting her until she was on her back. The stone was warm beneath her body. Welcoming. Like the stone of a sacrificial altar, where she was the one awaiting judgement.

On her back, she was now able to see the stone face of the Father over Otto, while the Mother looked down upon them from behind herself.

Fingers probed her full cunt, beginning to fuck her back to the precipice she'd been toying and dancing with for the entirety of her womanhood.

She kissed him as she peaked, soaking over his neat hands, ruining her skirts and soaking into the sacrificial slab of marble that sat underneath their entangled bodies. His seed had soaked it with her. The ivory silk, as light and fine as a maidens cloak, was sullied forever. Filthy.

And Aella Targaryen wouldn't have allowed it any other way.

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #house of the dragon #hotd #aella Targaryen #Otto hightower #Otto hightower x oc #Otto hightower fanfic #an irritation #chapter 8

40 notes · View notes

dollywons · 5 months

Text

𝒮𝓂𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ𝓈 𝓉ℴ 𝒽ℯ𝓁𝓅 𝒷𝓇𝒾ℊ𝒽𝓉ℯ𝓃 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝒹𝒶𝓎

For when you just aren’t feeling the best…

⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊🎀˚ ୨♡୧ ⋅🌸˚₊‧꒰ა🎀໒꒱ ‧₊˚

- Opening curtains in the morning

Will literally brighten your day!! :) As someone who used to avoid doing this I can confirm it really does make a difference and makes you feel more energized ♡︎

- Scrapbooking

To let your creativity flow, while also reminiscing at the same time ♡︎

- Listening to your favorite song

And you can make a new playlist as well! ♡︎

- Lighting a scented candle

For a scent maybe vanilla cupcake, strawberry buttercream, caramel swirl, or fresh cut roses (these are yankee candle scents!) ♡︎

- Tending to a garden

It can be very therapeutic, and satisfying to watch your garden grow! ♡︎

- Bake something

You can try to bake brownies, cupcakes, or cookies ♡︎

- Bubble bath

And using scents with essential oils like lavender, rose, or jasmine! ♡︎

- Go for a walk

Even just a 5 minute walk can help you feel more refreshed ♡︎

- Read a new book

Find something that catches your eye ♡︎

- Painting or Drawing

You can paint anything on a small canvas ♡︎ Or draw on paper!

⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊🎀˚ ୨♡୧ ⋅🌸˚₊‧꒰ა🎀໒꒱ ‧₊˚

58 notes · View notes

gilverrwrites · 8 months

Text

Supernatural Taste and Smell Headcanons

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

Dean

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

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

Sam

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

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

John

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

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

Mary

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

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

Castiel

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

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

Jack

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

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

Bobby

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

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

Crowley

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

Taste: 100% Whisky, and dark chocolate.

Charlie

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

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

Meg

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

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

Ruby

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

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

Lucifer

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

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

Gabriel

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

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

Raphael

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

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

Michael/Adam 😍

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

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

Rowena

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

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

Chuck

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

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

Amara

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

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

Billie

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

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

Benny

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

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

Kevin

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

Taste: Like redbull, chexmix, and mouthwash.

Eileen

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

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

Ketch

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

Taste: Like earl grey tea, and dry gin.

Balthazar

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

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

#supernatural #spn #supernatural headcanon #supernatural headcanons #spn headcanon #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural angels #supernatural archangels #supernatural demons #gilverrwrites

98 notes · View notes