#marigold spice

[ask-ponys-gamers-cafe]

not her type but other oc interested

[fnaflucasverse]

Okay 13 and 23 for Marigold!! Also yk what 11 too. I am curious to know abt what Marigold pick as a weapon in a fight. If only bc shes such a bubbly person

thank you bestie perfect excuse to introduce marigold to the world. have some color tests while i take a few sentences to talk about my girl:

marigold dayasiri-brown was born on august 8th, 1988, a lone ray of sunshine in her grieving mother mahogany's life. cheerful and exuberant, marigold has a knack for chemistry and less of a knack for making friends, but her boundless optimism is sure to take her far!

unfortunately, her biological father's shadow (i'm sure you can guess who that is) looms large in her family's memory, and sometimes that's all they can see...

shoutout to the anon in the parlourblog who made the outcast child au! anyway, onto the questions:

11) What is your OC's weapon of choice? Have they ever actually used it?

i imagine lucas makes her carry around a swiss army knife "just in case", although she's a bit too squeamish around knives to actually use the "knife" part. her real heavy-duty weapon is the can of bug spray in her trusty backpack. good for spraying bugs as well as the eyes of creepy strangers!

13) If you met your OC, would the two of you get along?

oh i really, really hope so. marigold would definitely do most of the talking but she would also ask a bunch of (possibly annoying) questions and force out of my shell <3 she's also just a really sweet kid in general and i trust her taste in music and media.

23) What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express?

ooh, probably betrayal. she's not socially aware enough to realize when she's being made fun of, especially by other girls in class. she can be quite trusting and naive that when they say they're her friends, they actually mean it. i think she's been burned quite a few times since starting middle school, but she's never fully processed any of it... it doesn't really help that she's normalized the distance and mild disdain her grandfather and cousin treat her with.

which connects to the emotion she finds hardest to express: sadness. i think, deep down, marigold feels increasingly lonelier as she grows up and her world gets wider and she feels smaller. but she clings to the idea that, if she just keeps smiling, with her spirits raised and her head held high, she'll find her place. until then, she's listening to the fazband play on...

[dulcedelashay]

Natural Garden Pest Control

Protect your garden with natural pest deterrents like marigolds:

[hannahs-quirky-moments]

🧡autumn moments to cherish🧡

• the smile on your friend's face when you give them the perfect gift

• discovering new songs you adore that fit the season

• leaves crunching under your feet

• drinking hot chocolate together with a loved one

• buying lots of new books because you've finally got time to read in the autumn holidays

• being proud of oneself for little accomplishments

• strolling through the city after school when it's already dark outside

• finding a new great study-spot/cafe

• the taste of pumpkin flavored everything

• the cozy feeling of being inside while it rains

• buying new oversized sweaters and scarves

• preparing for halloween with your friends

[betweenapitchandacast]

8 of the Best Low Maintenance Patio Plants

Are you looking to add some greenery to your #patio? See this #list of low maintenance patio #plants! You won't guess what's on it!

Patios are designed to be relaxing, so it’s not ideal to come home to many high-maintenance plants that require constant attention after a long day. No one wants that! That’s why this list of easy-to-care-for plants will add charm and character to any patio. These low-maintenance plants are a must-have for creating a fuss-free outdoor oasis. Don’t miss out! 1. Cacti Image credits: Thomas…

[insomniumstella]

spice & honey

bucky x baker!reader

summary: cinnamon buns and wickedly strong coffee must be the only reasons James Buchanan Barnes visits your bakery daily, despite the inconvenience of driving to a small town on the outskirts of Upstate New York. right?

warnings: first dates and crushes (absolutely classified as warnings), mead consumption, a curse word or two, soft!bucky

word count: 4,565

author's note: i've been watching Gilmore Girls a little too much lately (hence the little easter egg). on another note, autumn is my favourite season, so prepared to be sick of James attending harvest festivals and drinking apple cider 🍂🥧🎃

all the stories i've written

September 21st marks the official arrival of Autumn. Though the weather has been rather cheerful lately, today’s air is much crisper and heavier with the promise of looming rain. The streets of Eldermont remain far too green to your dismay, but Spice & Honey—the bakery you’ve owned for the past five years—is rich in shades of marigold and copper. A wide assortment of mugs, mostly in various shapes of pumpkins, and spiced teas, line the shelves, while the fresh jars of apple butter are neatly stacked alongside the register. Besides the usual treats, the glass display teems with seasonal favourite pumpkin tarts and apple cider donuts. 

The everlasting chatter of customers and soft sounds of a vintage record you scored at a neighbour’s garage sale just last month saturate the space as you place the second batch of cinnamon rolls on the counter. The clock reads 10:57 AM, and though you’ve been attempting to conceal your excitement, Vivienne could sense it the second you stepped through the door, teasing you about the very special visitor who’s always in need of sugary buns and black coffee at exactly five past eleven. 

James Buchanan Barnes is a regular customer, you often argue. The nervous babble, flustered movements, and beaming smiles convey otherwise. And so yes, you might have a little bit of a schoolgirl crush on the freakishly tall, muscular brunette who brings in the latest editions of The Culinary Canvas magazine each Monday and notices the smallest of changes in your recipes. Just maybe, you reluctantly ponder when your thoughts inadvertently wander to that charming grin and baby blue eyes every time you knead the dough for his adored treat — a dessert once reserved for Autumn suddenly available year around. 

“Staring at the entrance won’t make time pass quicker,” Vivienne whispers, arranging butterscotch cupcakes by the pumpkin tarts. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whisper back, covering the pans with aluminum foil. 

Perhaps hiding the pastries, a favourite amongst Spice & Honey shoppers, is not the best business decision, but Eldermont is merely a small town in Upstate New York. If it wasn’t located a thirty minute drive south of the Avengers compound, most people wouldn’t be aware of its presence in the first place. And besides, everybody in Eldermont is connected to everybody — the town holds no secrets, including the pastries you keep warm and frost fresh. 

“The tall, dark, and handsome man,” she points out, “still has a few minutes. Perchance the preparations of Eldermont’s Annual Harvest Festival made it trickier to find parking.” Vivienne turns to you with a mirthful grin, the cupcakes resting perfectly positioned in the glass case. “You should invite him. Heard Brad brewed an incredible batch of apple cider mead this year.”

You sigh, snatching the golden tray out of her grasp. “I’m not asking Bucky out.” 

“Ah! Bucky!” The woman’s grin widens. “Forgot his name for a second.” Shades of mischief dance in her tone as she marks Elijah’s, the eccentric owner of Marigold Meadows flower shop across the street, special order of fifty maple bacon BLTs as completed. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Only that you mention Bucky at least seven times a day.” 

“Seven’s oddly specific,” you note and swiftly, “also I do not,” disagree.

“Bucky smelled great today,” Vivienne mocks your voice, the grin you’ve come to love—and hate—remaining on her features. “Should I add apple to the cinnamon rolls? I wonder if Bucky would enjoy apple cinnamon rolls with brown butter and maple icing unless he’s a creature of habit. Maybe I should suggest a sprinkle of nutmeg in his coffee to test the waters first—“

“Vivienne,” you groan, yet she persists.

“What’s the worst that could happen? Bucky could say no. Bucky could also choose The Sugared Whisk. Bucky wouldn’t. I adore their croissants, but the coffee is terribly weak, and even their tea selection is mediocre. Indigo should include spiced teas. And sure, Luke's doesn't offer spiced teas, but Luke’s sells great coffee and danishes, except the danishes are only available on Wednesdays.” She recites a recent monologue of yours, and if you weren’t mortified, you’d actually be quite surprised at Vivienne’s ability to remember conversations as if they happened minutes ago. 

The doorbell chimes before she has the chance to finish, and you’re highly unsure of whether it’s a saved by the bell kind of situation or if you’d rather the floor magically swallow you whole. 

“Good morning.” James smiles, and it’s then that you decide you’d rather the floor split open because you’re awfully flustered by his entrance despite secretly anticipating the moment since the sun arose. 

“Hiya, Bucky,” she returns the favour, secretly nudging your side. “Have you ever been to the annual Eldermont’s Harvest Festival?” 

“Cannot say I have,” he chuckles, breaking eye contact between the two for just a second to glance at her. 

Though you’d never admit it aloud, those eyes, baby blue on sunny days and resembling the ocean on the ones of rain, cross your mind more than a pair of eyes should. This infatuation borders on obsessive, you often contemplate. James Buchanan Barnes is an Avenger for heaven’s sake, and you’re almost sure a man of his maturity and composure wouldn’t agree to a date with a baker, a clutz one at that. It’s not that you’d want to, nevertheless. The two of you have a great thing together — you serve coffee, he survives on coffee, and if time allows, the lighthearted conversations you have bring colours to otherwise monotone days. 

“The decorations, the food, the people are phenomenal.” You might have to assign the redhead to kneading duty if she’s heading to that territory. “This beauty right here could take you on a real good tour. Eldermont is gorgeous this time of year.” Enjoy kneading bread, Vivi. 

“Is it?” James grins, his stare flicking between you and Vivienne.

“Drop dead,” she reiterates, “much like the women.” 

“Vivienne,” you suddenly cut in, “the coffee station is out of paper cups. Could you bring some from the back?” 

She gives you another grin, less mischievous and more understanding, nodding at Bucky before she disappears into the kitchen. The heavy wooden doors create a boisterous sound once they close, and you couldn’t be happier for a distraction because you cannot look at the brunette just yet. The bakery is sweltering, and your hands are sweaty, and, if it wasn’t evident you’ve been nurturing a crush on James, Vivienne practically plastered a HEAD BAKER IN LOVE WITH SERGEANT BARNES sign out front. 

“The station’s out of cups?”

“Yes!” You glimpse behind the shoulder, deciding to keep the lie alive. “Spice & Honey gets busy during the afternoons, and we run out quickly.” The words leave your mouth rushed and a bit muttered, but the effort is there. “Black coffee and a cinnamon bun?”

“It’s a habit,” his smile is as charming as always. James hesitates for a beat, observing you locate the plastic to-go containers. “The festival Vivienne touched on, have you ever been?”

The atmosphere stills for an awkward second as you gawk at him. “Oh, sure,” you answer at last, praying her babbling wasn’t too obvious because you couldn’t fathom Bucky choosing The Sugared Whisk. “Every year since I was four. The festival’s great. Brad brews the best mead, and Johnny, the mayor, is comically strict about the decorations, so it’s all pumpkins, and string lights, and festive garlands,” you mumble, scrambling for the pan and cream cheese frosting. “I’ve even heard whispers of fireworks this year. It’s next Saturday if you want to drop by. Cassie bakes the best apple pies.” 

“Better than yours?”

“I don’t serve apple pies,” averting your eyes to study the grinder seems like the best decision to avoid his piercing gaze. 

“I’m sure they’d be the best if you did.” Bucky beams, leaning against the counter as he observes you make coffee. 

“Thank you,” the expression of gratitude melts into somewhat of a question despite your best attempts at keeping your voice level, “but the pies I bake often turn out horribly wrong. The apples were overcooked, and the dough raw last time I tried.” 

“How undercooked?” 

“The trash can enjoyed most of it.”

James laughs at that, the sound of it hearty and endearing. “I’m sure it found the pie delicious.” If he’s flirting with you, you can’t tell, and you don’t exactly want to, for expectations are the fool’s hope. “If you’re not terribly busy during the festival,” he speaks after a protracted moment of doubt, “I’d love to take you up on that tour Vivienne mentioned.”

“Tour?” The man in front of you must almost all but hear your heart pounding rapidly inside your chest.

“The tour of mead, pies, and decorations.” 

“Oh?” You tinker with a couple napkins, peering at him. “I’m not sure I could give you a real good tour, I’m barely a guide, believe me. I got lost in that new Target on Cedar Lane, and I cannot understand maps, and—“

“I’m asking you out on a date.” Bucky chuckles at your flustered visage, baby blues never once breaking the eye contact. 

“Shit,” the curse word leaves your mouth before you can stop it, and you silently reprimand yourself for the rash impulse of colourful words. “Alright.” 

The sergeant titters at your sudden reaction, a shy smile dancing on his lips. “We don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable. I just thought we might have something between us, chemistry of sorts, and that it might’ve been fun,” he briefly pauses, eyes wild and roaming around your face. “It’s just that Vivienne mentioned Eldermont being gorgeous in the fall, and it got me thinking that I’ve never truly experienced it, because the only thing I visit in this town is your bakery, not that it’s the only place worth visiting—“

“Bucky—“

“There are many stores I should probably check out, and Samuel’s birthday is in a couple of days, which is convenient. I wouldn’t describe Sam and I as the best of pals, but Steve likes him, so I should probably get him a gift.” 

“Who’s Samuel?” You ask puzzled, but the flustered soldier standing before you continues to ramble.

“Something small to indicate I remembered but not necessarily care. Something that screams I’m not a total jerk, but you are for reminding the whole compound that your birthday’s on the twenty third. A wooden statue of a bird. Sam likes birds, particularly Redwing, though Redwing’s not technically a bird. A wooden bird statue would certainly insult him, so it’s settled — the plan is to visit Artists & Wood on Land.” 

“The shop’s name is Woodland Artistry,” you correct with a gentle smile. 

“Right!” James clicks his tongue, studying your softly amused features. “We should probably forget this conversation happened. It was a stupid idea too—“

“Yes,” you interject. “I mean no.” Surely, this scenario is a strange dream that wicked mind of yours created to punish you for the sins you assumably committed in every single one of your previous lives. It’s the only possible explanation for the sergeant’s flustered behaviour. “I would absolutely love to go on a date,” you say and pinch the flesh of your thigh for reassurance, but the scene remains as it was, “with you.”

Gently placing a twenty on the counter, James gleams at you. “I’ve never actually given you my number, have I?” 

"No," you shake your head to indicate disagreement, pinching the flesh of your thighs once more. “Only the pleasure of our little chats,” the response makes you wince. The pleasure of our little chats? Something’s definitely wrong with me.

Chuckling, James grasps one of the pens you keep by the cash register and scribbles down a series of numbers on his receipt. "If I don't reply, Steve must be holding me hostage.”

"Duly noted," you grin, folding the piece of paper to tuck it into the back pocket of your denim shorts.

He stands there for a second as if absorbing the situation. “Good. It’s a date, then.” he smiles in the end, taking the coffee and the plastic box, and peeks at you behind his shoulder. “And keep the change, please. These treats of yours are more than worth it.”

A timid smile spreads across your lips at the compliment before you sink your teeth into the soft of your bottom lip, observing the soldier scramble out of the bakery, the phone in his flannel jacket ringing for attention.

“Next time,” the redhead appears beside you once James disappears out of sight with a final wave goodbye, “you should give the man coffee and buns on the house," Vivienne nudges you, "both of them." 

A surge of warmth rushes to your cheeks at her innuendo. “It’s great you suddenly possessed the ability to teleport and all, but the dough back there won’t knead itself.” 

“No,” she gasps, and you only laugh at her realisation, turning to help the next customer. 

It’s a date.

The evening of Eldermont’s harvest festival is pleasant, neither too blazing nor cold, but despite the temperature and the appropriate sundress you’ve chosen for it, you’re on the verge of fainting. I cannot faint on our first date, you think and decide it’s the man next to you’s fault, really. The smell of his cologne is too addicting, the hints of pine and cinnamon in his aftershave too intoxicating. James is a gentleman, which you expected and appreciate, but it’s overwhelming, the way he holds your hand to lead you through crowds and attentively listens to your overdrawn stories about the origins of pumpkin carving. Heavens help me.

“Have you checked out the corn maze yet?” Brad asks cheerfully. He’s surrounded by large beverage urns and stacks of disposable drinkware. “Mary mentioned Elijah’s still in there,” he chuckles, pouring two paper cups full of steaming apple cider mead. “The fool must’ve gotten lost or something.” 

“Must’ve,” you glance at him, the corner of your mouth quirking up into a half smile. “Happens every year.”

“The two of you should go,” Brad speaks once again before smiling at Bucky. “It’s a great first date activity.”

James chuckles, and you wonder if he regrets asking you on a date. The small town you call home is ludicrously close, and if Vivienne didn’t spill the beans to Mary as she promised, Mary must’ve spread the ‘rumours’ around herself. The town’s beloved bookshop owner is an incredible woman, but she loves to gossip, and you should’ve expected the second person after Vivienne to consistently insert themselves into your dating life to jump to conclusions. Though the situation isn’t precisely comfortable for you, it must be worse for James. Whilst he has never outright mentioned, the soldier has important reasons to stay under the radar. Bucky has witnessed a lot, horrors you’ve even heard about on the TV, and currently, every resident of Eldermont is aware that James Buchanan Barnes is on a date. With a local baker, nonetheless. Participating in acorn tossing and harvest bingo and conversing with Brad Monty about all kinds of sneaky activities couples get up to in the corn maze. You're certain that James is bound to vanish without a trace due to the town's antics if your diffident and often rather awkward behavior hasn't already scared him away. The anxious parts of your brain have even compiled a mental list of today's disasters: 

Johnny wiped his sweaty hands on Bucky’s jacket, realising the blunder only to mumble “I love this jacket, Sergeant Barnes”, and pretending he wanted to initiate a hug before he disappeared.

Cassie offered you a sample of pecan pie, which you eagerly tasted due to Bucky’s “If I had to choose the second best pie after apple, it would be pecan” comment, and completely choked on. 

Vivienne located you in the farmer’s market to say “hello”, and persuaded James to purchase a pair of beaded bracelets, the two of you had ridiculed moments earlier, for “every first date needs a souvenir to remember it by”. 

James guided you to Mary’s bookstore because you conferred a series of rare hardbacks Mary hides in the back for special customers, and the older woman steered you towards a selection of intimacy guides. 

Indigo, The Sugared Whisk owner, pleaded with James for Captain America’s number in the middle of a busy intersection and discussed his “timeless looks” for the next couple of minutes until a car almost struck the three of you. 

Elijah phoned you in distress, panicking about “having to live out his best years in a smelly corn maze”, which disturbed the sergeant and resulted in an “Elijah will find the exit eventually” monologue on your side. 

You accepted to take a photo of a tourist couple, accidentally dropping the wife’s phone and shattering the screen because James stood so close, your hands wouldn’t stop shaking. 

“Thanks, Brad,” you fumble with your wallet, hastily placing a ten on the stand. “See you around.”

“Doll,” Bucky doesn’t move once you attempt to remove him from the nightmare that is the situation the two of you found yourselves in. It gives you a second to evaluate his expression, and much to your surprise, his features are as soft as ever. James is blushing, too. “I wanted to pay for that.”

“You paid for the apple pie,” the words slip past your lips mumbled because the only thing you can truly concentrate on is the fact James is blushing. Blushing as a result of Brad’s stories about couples so in love they simply cannot be bothered to locate the labyrinth’s exit before proving their emotions to the world. Couples that could be the two of you. Possibly. A sane person shouldn’t rush to assumptions unless they earned the sweetest nickname from a dream of a man. You’ve never paid much thought to whether you would enjoy being called a ‘doll’—you do, but you would probably adore every label he’d choose. The notion steers your head toward unexpected and dirty waters, and you couldn’t be happier for Brad’s decision to chime in.

“Cassie outdid herself this year,” he nods. “I’m most definitely going to dream about that blackberry pie tonight.” 

“Yes,” James agrees never once breaking the eye contact with you. “The pies were delicious, and it was my pleasure to pay. It was me who demanded a tour.”

“You may pay for the maze then,” you smile at him, “but leave the ten — I’m not that great of a tour guide, and I’m afraid of the dark.”

“Dates should be fun,” James suddenly speaks. “We could’ve skipped the labyrinth.”

The corn maze is high and intimidating, but Bucky’s presence and the soft glow of an orange sunset manage to silence your fears a bit. The passages are almost entirely empty except for the two of you, and each corner you take makes your heart jump at the possibility of encountering spooky surprises. 

“This is fun,” you reassure, taking a sip of mead. James shoots you a look you cannot truly decipher, but you decide the meaning is somewhere between worried and teasing. “It is,” you hesitate for a beat. “I just keep remembering the haunted corn maze in Greenwood. They have scare actors there, who jump out of the bushes when you least expect it and completely startle you. Vivienne took me there last year, and I cannot shake the memories.” 

The expression on his face melts into sympathy. “If it’s any consolation, I would protect you against all the zombies and monsters this maze might throw at us,” he speaks before, “not that it has any,” adding. 

“If theme’s anything to go by, I think we’re OK,” you chuckle at his offer, referring to the cutesy signs and charmingly painted pumpkins scattered throughout the labyrinth, “unless Johnny decided to include a couple gory scenes at the end, though it’d end worse for him than it would for me.”

“Johnny The Mayor?” 

“Johnny The Mayor,” you take yet another sip, nodding. The beverage is barely warm twenty minutes into the attraction, providing only the comfort of a soft alcohol tipsiness. 

“He’s a charming little fella,” Bucky notes, and you don’t have it in yourself to deny the statement. “I’ve never experienced someone initiating a hug by wiping their hands on my jacket.” 

“Sorry,” you offer sheepishly because what could you say after an occurrence so bizarre. Everyone in this town is strange? James must’ve caught on to the fact by this time. 

“It’s alright, and besides, I now have a humorous story to recount at parties, which is a first,” he gleams at you. “It may come as a surprise, but I’m not usually the life of it.”

“Can I ask you a question?” You shift to gaze at him before emptying the cup of mead to steady your nerves. 

“I don’t promise to answer,” James grins, fiddling with the beaded bracelet, “but yes.” 

“Who’s Samuel?” 

“That’s your question?” He laughs as his flesh arm slithers to rest upon your waist. At least you think it’s his flesh arm. The man wears gloves whether the sun shines or the rain pours. You’ve seen pictures, though, and read stories of The Winter Soldier in possession of a metal arm. Neither raise concern, not for the reason you’re smitten with Bucky. Rather, because James was manipulated and stripped of free will, and if heaven would descend, perhaps because that metal arm is sinfully attractive. It’s a thought forbidden to be mentioned aloud, for the gloves are a large indicator he’d enjoy staying silent about the matter. “Who’s Samuel?” 

“Yes,” you sputter. The butterflies his simple action caused you don’t mention. “I want to hear about this Samuel. I’ve been informed he likes birds, especially Redwing, who’s not technically a bird?”

“The Samuel I was babbling about is Sam Wilson. The Falcon, if you’re a fan of CNN,” James teases, steering you into the left pathway of the maze. Despite your instinct to choose right, you stay silent. “Redwing’s a drone of sorts Sam uses on missions, and, this is a direct quote, for surveillance. I despise the thing.”

“If we get lost, forget the second date,” you playfully threaten. Though the coziness of his body pressed to yours is intoxicating, it does nothing to ease the goosebumps painted on your skin, and as the sky bleeds in shades of crimson and purple, the sun melts into the horizon, teasing you for forgetting a sweater. “I would’ve categorised holding a grudge against an object as below you.” 

“If the shoe fits,” he chortles, leading you down a long passage before abruptly stopping. Hesitating for a beat, he drapes the flannel jacket you’ve come to love on the man around your body. The garment is red and weighty, and it smells of James. The gesture makes your heart swell with admiration, but you ignore it. Dates should be approached with a blank slate because expectations are easily shattered. “I shouldn’t deliver Steve that woman’s phone number, should I?” Bucky’s arm finds your waist again. 

Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, “on the bright side, Indigo is quite a pleasant woman,” you verbalise the thought. James observes your expression, baby blues studying the same features he cannot resist thinking about at nightfall. Blood rushes to his cheeks at the notice of your fingers on his lower back, the heat of your skin piercing through his charcoal henley. “She’d certainly treat Captain America right. On the downside,” you pause, “Indigo is the exact opposite of Steve as the media portrays him. Come to think about it, both of us are.”

“How so?”

“The media portrays supersoldiers as courageous, but Indigo and I once had to call Luke to get rid of a teeny spider. Steve’s active in politics, whilst we often skip the town’s meetings—“

“Eldermont holds town meetings?” James chuckles, subconsciously drawing you in closer.

“Once a month, always on the first Tuesday,” you gleam at him before drawing in a deep breath to calm your violently beating heart. “Last time, we discussed the very pressing issue of Halloween decorations. Johnny insists every business on the main street must participate in the festivities. Indigo and I escaped out the back before the mayor could finish his speech. At the least, Steve would’ve stayed in that meeting, and at the most, he would’ve managed it.”  

“People do say opposites attract.” 

“Heard that before,” you agree. The loose strand of Bucky’s auburn hair tempts you to tuck it behind his ear, but you halt the impulse of committing such a ludicrous decision. “It must be true because you drink coffee black, and I prefer lattes. You have cinnamon buns for breakfast, and I, if time would be gracious enough for breakfast, would choose danishes.” 

“The jury’s decided, then.” The corners of his mouth quirk up into a lazy and wickedly attractive smile, and, you almost wonder if Bucky’s aware of the effect he has on your body because if he isn't, your buckling knees must’ve given it away. “Opposites do attract.” His wildly confident attitude is a new discovery, but you decide you like it. “It would be a shame to ignore matters of the universe.” Confidence is a good shade on him. 

“Is this your way of asking me on a second date?” You tease the man, memorising the pink hues veiling his cheekbones. 

James guides you around the corner, observing the corn maze’s exit, and halts his movements. “Only if the lady agrees,” he shifts to stand before you, catching your forearms in his gloved hands, “which I’m sincerely hoping she does.” 

Resting your arms on his shoulders, you gift yourself a quick moment to explore his features — the stubble gently lining his sharp jaw, the little scar above his eyebrow, and the red lips you, despite hiding it, wanted to kiss since he first visited Spice & Honey. “The lady would love to go on a second date.” 

“Good,” an emotion you cannot comprehend waltzes in his eyes, but, for the sake of your composure, you abstain from thinking it could possibly be lust. “The gentleman is looking forward to it.” There's an argument happening inside him, you can sense it by the way he keeps drawing you closer until the space between your bodies is virtually erased, but retains his posture straight and almost rigid. The weight of should he or should he not lingers in the air around you before James catches your stare and smiles timidly, shattering the flicker of hope you have for him to kiss you. You don’t exactly yearn for him to kiss you. In theory, kiss-less first dates are a great idea, paving the way for deeper conversations and a closer bond. They build anticipation. Anticipation is good, you ponder for a second, but all you can truly focus on is whether James would taste like apple cider mead or the sugary desserts you two savoured earlier. “The night is still young," he speaks, the tone of his voice light and reticent. "It would be a shame to end the date this early." 

“Luke’s open if you want to grab a quick dinner,” you say with a grin, stepping away from him. “Though we should probably exit the maze first.” 

“Yes,” Bucky laughs and extends his arm towards the light at the end of the passage. “Lead the way, pretty lady.” 

[artyandink]

FIRST ON THE ROSTER.ᐟ

—————————————————meet… CINNAMON!GIRL.ᐟ

about.ᐟ his baby, cinnamon girl, walks in the woods, cinnamon buns, sunset, fall, little freckles, orange/brown leaves, apple pie, little trinkets, flowers in your hair, cinnamon in everything, spice lattes, cinnamon hot chocolate, folklore enthusiast, touch a a love language, cuddled up in fall and winter, big eyes, just so dainty, a darling to all adults, a babygirl to a boyfriend, pouty lips, fields of flowers, chrysanthemums, dahlias, zinnias, marigolds, stargazing, lukewarm, picket fences, little rings, bookworm

playlist.ᐟ summertime sadness, cinnamon girl, dandelions, cardigan, lover, willow, betty, clara bow, paper rings, style, bed chem, slim pickin’s, too sweet, brooklyn baby, party in the usa, never let me go, hold back the river, daylight

wardrobe.ᐟ gloves (sometimes), bows on your clothes, accessories, hair, everywhere, stockings, clips, silk blouses, skirts, camisoles, sundresses (summertime), lace-up shoes and boots, shiny necklaces and rings, pretty lace panties (shh), cardigans

CONTEXT COMING SOON .ᐟ

[stalkerofthegods]

Lord Hades deep dive

Herbs • cypress, mint, myrrh, patchouli, bay, pumpkin, yew, wormwood, cinnamon, lavender, willow, oak, marigold, dandelion, rose, lily, daisies, rowan, poppy, daffodils, calendulas, salt and spices, Cypress, white asphodel, mint, narcissus

Animals• Dogs (Cerberus, specifically), black lambs, serpents, screech owls, black sheep, black bulls, moths (reincarnation, cycle of life), 

Zodiac • Autumn (dry becoming cold) – Earth – Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn, Winter (cold becoming wet) – Water – Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces.

Colors • Black, grey, silver, gold

Crystal• hematite, onyx, obsidian, onyx, black tourmaline, jet

Symbols• precious jewels and money, drinking horn, Sceptre, Keys, Helm of darkness, night-time, autumn and winter, caves, mines, forests, crossroads, cemeteries, cornucopia, shovels (digging of graves, digging into dirt)

Jewelry you can wear in their honor• gold, silver, rubies, emeralds, anything metal and expensive due to his wealth and stone aspects. Any stones or metals. you can veil in muted colors in his honor.

Diety of• stones, metals, wealth, the underworld, 'winter; funeral rites.

Patron of• the underworld, stones, gems, crystals.

Offerings• honey, milk, shells or bones of animals, oolong and black tea, bread, and cake, apples, pomegranates, meat, especially lamb meat, he likes oils, like olive oil and such, a drinking horn, Black mirrors, Black cloth, dirt, dirt from commentaries, garlic, baked goods, sharp cheeses, money, family heirlooms, pomegranate mead/rum, black coffee, Statues or art of Cerberus, small fossils, art is drawn or for him, Shredded snakeskin, owl/vulture feathers., sheded dog fur (good origin hair, no stealing/shaving ur dog simply to give it to him), scales (balance scales), cornucopia, coins, 

Devotional•  saving money, spending responsibly, donating to charities for the dead, cleaning graveyards and gravestones (properly, respectfully, with permission for both the dead and the owners of the property), Offerings to the dead, as well as money to the spirits of the dead to let them pass on, collecting expensive jewels and crystals/stones, making an altar to tend dead spirits, Studying other cultures’ burial methods and cemetery rites, do a job for cementary, do mortuary or funeral services as a job (for the summer, or for how long u want in his honor), treat spirits kindly and help them move on, do ancestral worship, worship your land spirits in his honor, growing deathly plants (safely), writing poetry/stories for him, donate to those who can't afford a funeral, help with funerals, donate to suicide prevention organizations (that are trustworthy), donate to dog shelters, walk dogs in his honor, work at a dog shelter or babysitting dogs in his honor, visit caves that let you mine for stones/gems, make a playlist for him and hum/sing it in his honor, start a coin collection, 

Ephithets•  ‘Renowned’, ‘Good Counsellor’, ‘the Beautiful‐haired One’, ‘Of Good Repute’, ‘Leader of the People’, ‘Lord over All’, ‘Receiver of Many’, ‘Host to Many’ and Pluton (‘Wealth’). 

Equivalents (alike but not the same)• Pluto, Dis Pater, Orcus

They are reaching out• seeing dead animals or funeral symbols, seeing his symbols everywhere, smelling pomegranates, getting more job opportunities. He and his wife are usually a package deal.

Vows/omans• taking care of the underworld, marriage vows

Number• 6 (not seeing his wife for 6 months, then seeing her for 6 months), and commonly associated with death

Morals• lawfully neutral

Courting• Lady Persephone

Past lovers/crushes• Leuce, Minthe, Theophile

Personality• Like a working dad hanging up your macaroni on his desk, he is very formal and has a sweet spot.

Home• hades/hadestown (he lives in the underworld but is allowed up to Mount Olympus

Mortal or immortal • immortal

Fact• Due to being a Cathonic god you cannot eat after them, you dispose of offerings into water into the ground, and him and his wife Persephone are usually together.

Curses• being broke, losing money, being unable to pass on, losing your job.

Blessings• more money, getting more job opportunities, getting more money.

Roots• "the unseen" which An extensive section of Plato's dialogue 'Cratylus' is devoted to the etymology of the god's name, the 'unseen one', in which Socrates is arguing for a folk etymology not from "unseen" but from "his knowledge (eidenai) of all noble things", you can see he originated from the greek region.

Friends• Persephone, Zeus, Poseidon, Hestia, hermes, Artemis, Apollo, Athena, Hephaestus, Aphrodite, all the Olympians

Parentage• Cronos, Rhea

Siblings• Zeus, Poseidon, Demeter, Hera, and Hestia.

Pet• Cerberus, in his chariot four black steeds Orphnaeus (savage and fleet), Aethon (swifter than an arrow), great Nyctaeus (proud glory of Hell's steeds), and Alastor (branded with the mark of Dis).

Children • Macaria, and in some cases Zagreus, Dionysus, and the Erinyes

Appearance in astral or gen• black hair, crown, kings coat, with a beard and with his scepter

Festivals • Halloween, The Chthonia Fertility Rites

Season • fall, winter 

Day •  Saturday, Tuesday, or Monday would be good, but he doesn't have an official day.

Status• King of the underworld, an olympion.

What angers them• disrespect to their family (wife, kids, etc), insulting the dead, messing with graveyards

The music they like• he likes old-timey, death music, I was listening to a playlist and there was a lot of goth music!

Planet• pluto

Tarot cards• death, the devil (and personally the chariot and the emperor)

Reminds me of• hot coca, death, dirt, bones, dead animals on the road, and goths.

Scents/Inscene • Cypress, amber, pomegranate, and winter scents

Prayers• 

1.

Great Hades, master of the dark afterworld, honored host of our beloved dead, husband of fair-haired Persephone, holder of the riches of the deep earth, eldest son of full-hearted Rhea and Cronus of the shining sickle, I praise you. Hades, kind one, unyielding one, gracious granter of respite to the suffering, of welcome to those who have passed from our world, I thank you for your gift of shelter and hospitality.

2.

Noble Hades, lord of the afterworld, upon your head the shining helm that veils the one it crowns in darkness, within your grasp the fearful staff with which you split the world asunder. Hades, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Hades, holder of all the wealth within the world, yours are all the priceless treasures buried in the earth’s deep bones, the silver and the gold, the copper and the iron, the many-colored gems. I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Within your realm, O Hades, are treasures too of life and abundance. The precious seeds of fruit and grain, the soft black soil that clings to root and leaf, without these gifts would mankind fail to flourish. I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Kindly host of the dead, receiver of all who pass from the earth into your deep, abyssal realm, granter of rest for the weary, sweet reunion for those too long parted by your well-wrought gates. I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Fair-minded Hades, even-handed one who holds in hand the lot of all whose earthly lives have ended. The greatest of kings, the lowest of beggars, all receive reward or sanction by your will. I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings.

3.

Great Hades, master of the darkened deep, master of the realm beneath our feet who hears the echoes of our steps, who takes the echoes of our lives. Hades, you know the need for an end to life, you know the worth of a well-deserved rest, you know the thanks of men and women weary from long lives of worry and toil, you know the joy of sweet reunion as friends long parted join together once again within your storied land. The dim and misty underworld is yours, O Hades; yours are the Fields of Asphodel, yours the endless pits of Tartarus in which are cast the wicked and the vile. Yours too are the Fortunate Isles, the land of fair Elysium where dwell the righteous and the good. Hades, the receiver of burnt offerings, receiver of the blood of beasts, well-honored god: in the end, all come to you. Hades, I praise you.

4.

Great-hearted Hades, lord of the afterworld, noble husband of gracious Persephone, daughter of the earth who shares your golden throne; advocate of the dead whose wrath falls on those who deny them due burial, or whose dishonor endures beyond the grave. Relentless Hades, agent of vengeance, friend of the Furies, long is your arm, long your memory. Lord of riches, lord of wealth, yours is the abundance of the depths, the cold, unyielding treasure of metal and stone; yours is the black dirt turned by the plow each spring, the sun-warmed soil that hides the seed. Hades, dark-haired son of Kronos, ruler of the world beyond us, inevitable host of men and women and all, I thank you for your care of those who have passed; I praise you, I honor you, I revere your name.

Due to him being a Chthonic deity here are tips for worship• You can do water in the ground, I'd personally light incense in his honor, over dirt, and let the ashes fall into the water in his honor. You can throw offerings into water into a pit in the dirt for him, in front of statues offerings were left at his feet. if you have no backyard, or any place to dispose of dirt, I'd get a bag of dirt and place offerings in it then throw it out (make him aware of it, with respect.), Offerings are often buried, poured down the drain, or into the trash (This is done to ‘complete’ the offering.), please NEVER eat after him or anything associated with him other than Kore (Persephone's overworld name, ONLY her overworld aspect),

I know he was offered blood, but please don't unless you're a devotee of Mimmum of 5 years!! that is offering your source of life and it has to be sterile and everything and is VERY VERY sacred, you're offering your life to him, so please make sure to do research and have someone help you if you do decide to.

Links/websites/sources • https://www.tumblr.com/h-x-d-e-s/190189758200/on-worshipping-hades# https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Astrology_and_the_classical_elements#:~:text=Spring%20(wet%20becoming%20hot)%20%E2%80%93,Water%20%E2%80%93%20Cancer%2C%20Scorpio%2C%20Pisces https://www.britannica.com/topic/Hades-Greek-mythology https://www.worldhistory.org/Hades/ https://www.worldhistory.org/Hades/ https://www.oxfordreference.com/display/10.1093/oi/authority.20111010143853768#:~:text=Epithets%20which%20euphemistically%20address%20his,Pluton%20('Wealth'). https://www.reddit.com/r/Hades/comments/17yhisn/offerings_to_hades/?rdt=60435 https://www.tumblr.com/twelfthremedy/625927031204577280/hades-offerings https://asklepiad-apollon.tumblr.com/post/182810115143/historically-accurate-offerings-to-the-theoi-buthttps://www.reddit.com/r/pagan/comments/khc513/it_makes_me_sad_that_hades_doesnt_have_a_festival/ https://greekpagan.com/tag/hades/

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

[yourmomsawh0r3]

oh my god someone who writes for Marcelo!

Maybe one where Marcello takes reader to meet his mom! Reader is super nervous but he keeps reassuring her that it’ll be okay and that he’s already told her everything about reader and his mom is excited!!

ughh i love this story already! hope you enjoy babe🫶🏼✨

Suegra

pairing: marcello hernandez x f! reader

Marcello’s car rolled to a stop in front of a house that felt like it had a heartbeat of its own. The pastel yellow stucco walls, trimmed with white, were dappled in the late afternoon sunlight. A pair of rocking chairs sat on the front porch, and wind chimes gently tinkled with the breeze. The house exuded warmth just like Marcello himself.

“This is it,” he said, a note of nostalgia in his voice as he cut the engine.

You leaned forward to get a better look, clutching the flowers tightly in your hands. “It’s beautiful,” you murmured, your nerves momentarily eclipsed by the charm of his childhood home.

Marcello grinned. “It’s not much, but it’s home. The porch? That’s where my mom and I used to sit and watch thunderstorms. And that tree over there? I fell out of it once when I was trying to rescue a kite. Mom freaked out. I think she lectured me for a week.”

You laughed softly, picturing little Marcello dangling from the tree, all big brown eyes and mischievous energy.

He turned to you, his expression softening. “You okay, cariño? You’ve been quiet.”

You hesitated, then nodded. “I’m just… I want to make a good impression, you know? This house your mom it’s such a big part of who you are.”

Marcello reached over, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “Hey, listen to me. My mom’s going to love you. I’ve told her how smart you are, how funny, how much you care about people. She already thinks you’re perfect. And if it helps, she’s way less scary than she sounds.”

You gave him a wobbly smile, and he leaned in to kiss your temple before hopping out of the car. He rounded the front, opening your door and holding out his hand. You took it, letting him pull you to your feet.

As you walked up the steps together, you noticed little details brightly painted flower pots lined the porch, each one bursting with marigolds and hibiscus. A small ceramic rooster sat on the windowsill, and a faint melody of salsa music drifted through the open window.

Marcello knocked, but before his hand even left the door, it swung open. His mom stood there, a vision of warmth and hospitality. She was petite, her dark hair streaked with gray, her smile wide and genuine.

“¡Mi hijo!” she exclaimed, pulling Marcello into a tight hug that seemed to compress all the love in the world into one gesture.

“Hola, Mami,” Marcello said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

When she pulled back, her eyes landed on you, and her smile grew even brighter. “And you must be Y/N.”

You quickly held out the bouquet, nerves making your hands tremble slightly. “Hi, um, these are for you. Thank you so much for having me.”

Her eyes sparkled as she accepted the flowers. “¡Qué hermosa! Thank you, mija. You didn’t have to do this. Come, come in!”

She ushered you inside, and immediately, the house wrapped you in its embrace. The walls were adorned with family photos Marcello as a baby, Marcello with his mom at the beach, Marcello in a little league uniform. The air smelled of something delicious garlic, spices, and a hint of citrus.

“I hope you’re hungry,” she said, leading you into the kitchen, where a feast awaited. The table was covered in dishes: arroz con pollo, black beans, plantains, and a salad with avocado and lime.

Marcello leaned in to whisper, “She’s trying to impress you too, you know. This much food? She’s pulling out all the stops.”

You smiled, feeling your nerves begin to ease. His mom motioned for you to sit, and as the meal unfolded, so did the stories. She shared tales of Marcello’s childhood how he was always cracking jokes, how he used to run around the house with his cousins pretending to be a TV host.

“Even as a niño, he was making everyone laugh,” she said, beaming at her son.

Marcello groaned, though his eyes were filled with affection. “Okay, Mami, no need to embarrass me.”

By the time dessert arrived homemade flan, its caramel glaze glistening you felt completely at ease. His mom reached across the table to touch your hand, her expression earnest.

“Thank you for making my son so happy,” she said. “I can see it in his eyes when he looks at you. You’re family now, mija. Anytime you want to come over, my house is yours.”

Your throat tightened with emotion, and you barely managed to whisper, “Thank you.”

On the way home, Marcello looked over at you, his eyes soft in the dim glow of the dashboard. “Told you she’d love you,” he said, squeezing your hand.

You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder. “I love her too. And I love you, Marcello.”

He kissed the top of your head, his voice filled with a quiet kind of joy. “I love you more, cariño. Always.”

As the night deepened, the comforting glow of the living room lights softened, wrapping the room in an intimate warmth. Plates and glasses from dinner had been cleared away, replaced by laughter and the sound of an old camcorder clicking to life.

“Okay, okay, you have to see this one,” Marcello’s mom said excitedly, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to you while Marcello stretched out on the couch behind you.

The TV flickered, and soon a grainy video of a much younger Marcello filled the screen. He couldn’t have been more than six, his dark curls bouncing as he ran across the backyard. He was shirtless, covered in streaks of mud, holding a garden hose in one hand and laughing wildly.

“Oh no,” Marcello groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Not this one.”

“Yes, this one!” his mom said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “This was the day he decided to water the plants by himself… except he forgot the hose was on full blast and ended up drenching himself instead.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, your eyes darting between the screen and Marcello’s embarrassed expression. “You were so cute!”

“I was a menace,” Marcello corrected, shaking his head.

The video transitioned to another clip a birthday party. Marcello stood in front of a cake almost as big as he was, his little face lighting up as everyone sang to him. He clapped excitedly at the end of the song, then smashed his hands into the cake with no hesitation.

“Oh, come on,” Marcello groaned again, though you could see the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“Stop pretending you’re embarrassed,” you teased, nudging his leg with your elbow. “You love the attention.”

His mom laughed along with you, patting your knee. “She’s got your number, mijo.”

For hours, the three of you sat together, watching memories unfold on the screen. Marcello’s mom told you stories about each moment how he’d insisted on wearing a cape to school for an entire week, how he’d once tried to sell lemonade in the living room because it was “too hot outside,” and how he’d cried happy tears the first time he performed in a school play.

By the time the last video ended, you felt like you’d been given a front-row seat to the life that had shaped the man you loved.

“Thank you for sharing these with me,” you said softly to his mom as she started tidying up the tapes.

She waved you off with a warm smile. “You’re part of the family now, mija. This is your history too.”

Marcello watched the interaction from the couch, his heart swelling as he saw how effortlessly you and his mom had bonded. He hadn’t known it was possible to love you even more, but tonight, you proved him wrong.

In the weeks that followed, his mom’s words rang true you quickly became part of the family. Marcello often joked that you spent more time at her house than he did, but he secretly loved how close the two of you had become.

One Saturday afternoon, he walked into his mom’s kitchen to find the two of you seated at the table, a rainbow of nail polish bottles spread out before you. His mom was carefully painting your nails while you both chatted and laughed like old friends.

“What’s this?” Marcello asked, leaning against the doorframe with a grin.

“We’re having girl time,” his mom said without missing a beat, waving him off with her free hand.

“Girl time?” Marcello echoed, raising an eyebrow at you.

You smirked at him. “Don’t be jealous. We’re planning a shopping trip next weekend, and you’re not invited.”

His mom nodded in agreement, a playful glint in her eye. “She’s my shopping partner now. We have to keep you boys in line somehow.”

Marcello chuckled, shaking his head. “Great. Now I have to compete with my own mom for your attention.”

You blew him a kiss, your freshly painted nails sparkling in the sunlight. “Sorry, babe. Priorities.”

Despite his teasing, Marcello was endlessly grateful for the bond you’d formed with his mom. Watching you two together laughing, cooking, even gossiping gave him a glimpse into the future. He imagined Sunday dinners filled with warmth and love, holidays spent surrounded by family, and a life where you and his mom remained inseparable.

That night, as you both lay in bed, Marcello wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head.

“I think you love my mom more than me,” he joked, his voice low and affectionate.

You tilted your head to look at him, your eyes sparkling. “I just love that she raised someone as amazing as you.”

Marcello’s heart swelled, and he pulled you closer. “She was right, you know. You’re family now, cariño. And one day, I hope we’ll have a home just like hers a place where we can make memories, raise kids, and maybe even show them some embarrassing videos of me.”

You laughed softly, resting your head against his chest. “I’d like that.”

In that moment, the future felt as bright and vibrant as the home videos you’d watched earlier. It was a future filled with love, laughter, and a family that already felt like yours.

As the night deepened, the comforting glow of the living room lights softened, wrapping the room in an intimate warmth. Plates and glasses from dinner had been cleared away, replaced by laughter and the sound of an old camcorder clicking to life.

“Okay, okay, you have to see this one,” Marcello’s mom said excitedly, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to you while Marcello stretched out on the couch behind you.

The TV flickered, and soon a grainy video of a much younger Marcello filled the screen. He couldn’t have been more than six, his dark curls bouncing as he ran across the backyard. He was shirtless, covered in streaks of mud, holding a garden hose in one hand and laughing wildly.

“Oh no,” Marcello groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Not this one.”

“Yes, this one!” his mom said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “This was the day he decided to water the plants by himself… except he forgot the hose was on full blast and ended up drenching himself instead.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, your eyes darting between the screen and Marcello’s embarrassed expression. “You were so cute!”

“I was a menace,” Marcello corrected, shaking his head.

The video transitioned to another clip a birthday party. Marcello stood in front of a cake almost as big as he was, his little face lighting up as everyone sang to him. He clapped excitedly at the end of the song, then smashed his hands into the cake with no hesitation.

“Oh, come on,” Marcello groaned again, though you could see the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“Stop pretending you’re embarrassed,” you teased, nudging his leg with your elbow. “You love the attention.”

His mom laughed along with you, patting your knee. “She’s got your number, mijo.”

For hours, the three of you sat together, watching memories unfold on the screen. Marcello’s mom told you stories about each moment how he’d insisted on wearing a cape to school for an entire week, how he’d once tried to sell lemonade in the living room because it was “too hot outside,” and how he’d cried happy tears the first time he performed in a school play.

By the time the last video ended, you felt like you’d been given a front-row seat to the life that had shaped the man you loved.

“Thank you for sharing these with me,” you said softly to his mom as she started tidying up the tapes.

She waved you off with a warm smile. “You’re part of the family now, mija. This is your history too.”

Marcello watched the interaction from the couch, his heart swelling as he saw how effortlessly you and his mom had bonded. He hadn’t known it was possible to love you even more, but tonight, you proved him wrong.

In the weeks that followed, his mom’s words rang true you quickly became part of the family. Marcello often joked that you spent more time at her house than he did, but he secretly loved how close the two of you had become.

One Saturday afternoon, he walked into his mom’s kitchen to find the two of you seated at the table, a rainbow of nail polish bottles spread out before you. His mom was carefully painting your nails while you both chatted and laughed like old friends.

“What’s this?” Marcello asked, leaning against the doorframe with a grin.

“We’re having girl time,” his mom said without missing a beat, waving him off with her free hand.

“Girl time?” Marcello echoed, raising an eyebrow at you.

You smirked at him. “Don’t be jealous. We’re planning a shopping trip next weekend, and you’re not invited.”

His mom nodded in agreement, a playful glint in her eye. “She’s my shopping partner now. We have to keep you boys in line somehow.”

Marcello chuckled, shaking his head. “Great. Now I have to compete with my own mom for your attention.”

You blew him a kiss, your freshly painted nails sparkling in the sunlight. “Sorry, babe. Priorities.”

Despite his teasing, Marcello was endlessly grateful for the bond you’d formed with his mom. Watching you two together laughing, cooking, even gossiping gave him a glimpse into the future. He imagined Sunday dinners filled with warmth and love, holidays spent surrounded by family, and a life where you and his mom remained inseparable.

That night, as you both lay in bed, Marcello wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head.

“I think you love my mom more than me,” he joked, his voice low and affectionate.

You tilted your head to look at him, your eyes sparkling. “I just love that she raised someone as amazing as you.”

Marcello’s heart swelled, and he pulled you closer. “She was right, you know. You’re family now, cariño. And one day, I hope we’ll have a home just like hers a place where we can make memories, raise kids, and maybe even show them some embarrassing videos of me.”

You laughed softly, resting your head against his chest. “I’d like that.”

In that moment, the future felt as bright and vibrant as the home videos you’d watched earlier. It was a future filled with love, laughter, and a family that already felt like yours.

[cowgirlcherrie]

𓏲 APPLE OF MY EYE ᵎᵎ secret admirer! abby anderson

synopsis: love is a free spirit; crushing is even harder. It all started with a special delivery of anonymous treats at your door. While you were yearning that it would be your best friend sending them to you.

song(s): apple cider by beabadoobee

*LYRICS ARE BOLDED

content: takes place in game universe. follows the events leading up to seattle day 1. violence. death. repetitive mentions of apples; eating them, imagery etc. mutual pinning. implied character death by end. blood. right person, wrong time. missed connection. kinda implied fem! reader. Joel death mention. death foreshadowing. intuitive knowledge of death. Closely follows the song.

WE BOTH LIKE APPLE CIDER

Crush and Crunch.

Crunching with your crush. 

It all sounded the same to you, the cracking of your vocal cords at the back of your throat pushing at enunciating every syllable in crush sounding like crunch; which were your teeth poking into an apple every Tuesday. Shiny Granny Smiths, on Tuesdays, Honeycrisps on Wednesdays, and Fuji on Fridays. 

You weren’t sure when the kitchen started getting apple deliveries; perhaps the never-ending garden of trees grown them with the perfect analytics to make sure they weren’t poisonous or synthetic apples but you weren’t complaining. The first time you tried an apple sounded ridiculous to say. Your first ever. You took the finely cut slice; detached from its core to your mouth, groaning in satisfaction as the flavors mixed together in your mouth like a rollercoaster. Juicy and bitter with a tinge of sweetness.  Just how you liked it.

Abby said they were even better with cinnamon. Rambling on about how sugar and spice equate to everything nice and the best finger-licking of your dreams. On apple days, during breakfast you found yourself sitting at a secluded table with Abby in front of you slicing the apples so they were easier to consume. Shared amongst the two of you as your hands reached for the same slices; Abby pulled her hand away to let you have the last. 

BUT YOUR HAIR BE SMELLING LIKE FRUIT PUNCH

You enjoyed these bittersweet moments; like the apples of course. The sun beamed on Abby’s face in marigold and marmalade, as her blonde locks blew in the air slightly disheveled from when she went on patrol that day. Her fresh scent of pine, and fruit blend from her hair which was refreshing and comforting you. She took a final bite before flipping the knife down to take it back to the utensil bin for washing. Where then the two of you would part ways. It was never awkward. Eating apples in silence; you mean — because Abby had a schedule more vigorous and deathly than yours and you had other businesses to attend to. But she never would miss out on an Apple time with you. 

AND I DON’T EVEN LIKE YOU THAT MUCH

You’ve grown suspicious in recent meters. You weren’t one to talk about love either but it somehow found some way to bite back at you like the juices of the apple splattering on your lips when you would eat them.

WAIT, I DO, FUCK.

It started with suspicious packages revealing themselves outside of your door, wrapped in a delicate ribbon, with a brown paper box tied off with the most absurd cursive handwriting that you could hardly read. But somehow making out, the delicate notion of

An apple a day keeps the doctor away. Xoxo, eyes from afar.

CALL ME, AT MIDNIGHT.

So as anyone else would, at midnight, you stomped your way to Abby’s door pounding your fist into the wood until she slammed it open looking at you in bewilderment. Toothbrush in between her lips scratching her teeth; scrubbing away at any build-up as she watched you. Notioning with her hands for you to speak. She looked carefree, laidback her hair was down and she looked as though she freshly showered. 

“Thanks for the gift” you smirk, holding up the box with randomized love and self-care books with an intact nail polish set that was on top. It was a variety pack, swishes of different shades of pink and white, and even nudes to go for a clear coat; like a puff of cotton candy.

You were flattered, naturally, it was a sweet gift like a candy cane in the sweet summer breeze you wanted to just rip it out of the packaging and have a go. You also never had someone be so considerate of you. Thinking to bring you back something so pure and valuable that surely wouldn’t collect dust but you would bring out every month. You would make sure it wasn’t forgotten.

Abby furrowed her eyebrows, holding up her pointer finger motioning – one minute, running to the sink and spitting out the toothpaste rinsing her mouth off. 

“I didn’t give you that.” Abby specified, taking a washcloth to wipe at her hands and around her mouth as she let you inside.

“C’mon Abs, even if you did that’s—”

“I didn’t give that to you.” Abby’s voice was more serious this time, stern and strict with some urgency. Not that she was being rude about it, but she was trying to get you off her case. After a long day of patrolling where she did find goodies you would like along with some ribbons from a craft store along the way, Abby got to work making you a sweet delivery. After all, you deserved it. 

“But who else would know I like apples besides you!”

“Manny, Mel, Nora, Ow–”

“Okay I didn’t ask for names.” You hushed, fiddling with the box in your hand as you looked at the treats inside. Biting at your lips, it was like being given a hug but the person who gave it to you disappeared before you can offer one better, or even fully wrap your arms around them to give one back.

“This was really sweet I just wish I could give something back.” You mumbled, tilting your head down to look at the books yearningly. Amidst the violence, the blood, and the chaos, you still loved and that was what pushed you forward. That was what erupted a fire in you; triggering your passion and jumpstarting your heart like cables to a car. 

“I think you shouldn’t worry about it,” Abby suggested, not looking at you but folding her laundry to put away for safekeeping.

“What?” 

“What.” Abby shot back, acting as if she didn’t say anything prior, but you heard her well. Your friend, heart, and soul were being shifty with you; acting as if she didn’t care about your treats or that you were being admired from afar by someone with a sweet gentle heart. 

“Nevermind I’m being silly” You confessed, taking your words back and turning on your heels to leave her room.

Abby wasn’t going to let you leave. Lips parted as she watched your feet get closer and closer to the exit of the door.

LETS GIVE, THIS, THING A TRY.

“Show me.” 

You stopped walking, turning around slowly on your heels. Part of you wished it was Abby, though she would never really know. You watched the way she looked at Owen with appreciation but also disgust. How her love turned to hatred and pain. Abby wasn’t focused on you, you would think.

Abby wasn’t focused on you.

“What?”

“I said show me,” Abby confessed, her voice as clear as day, “C’mere…” Abby patted the side of her bed where she sat comfortably. 

“G‘head tell me about it. I wanna see it too” Abby gave a smile. Truth is, behind her push n’ pull —  rigid love and aggression she still hoped for you. Amidst her passive-aggressiveness, she was giving the love she felt as though she would never feel again. The permanent hole in her heart that you kept on refiling and you didn’t even know. 

She didn’t want you to slip through the cracks of her fingers just yet. Hiding behind a mask, cowardly shying herself away from you. Owen wasn’t on her mind but having you think that especially as she set off on a spree for the man who killed Jerry, would fix that. You were a liability, she wouldn’t let you go. 

You made your way down the steps, to her bed tucked in the corner nook, sitting down as you opened the package. With that you started rambling, tossing the paper apart like a kid on Christmas, showing Abby the hardcover copies with a dopey smiley on your face. Abby couldn’t contain her own smile either. Watching as you went through each nail polish shade.

“Can I try these on you?” You held up a baby pink, it was in a ballet slipper shade, which would make a good neutral against her bright skin. 

Abby wasn’t going to resist, shrugging up her shoulders against her black long-sleeve shirt, pushing the shirt up on her arms, “Sure”

So you proceeded further with painting her nails that evening, toxic paint brushing on her fingers like a canvas —  while the two of you whisked away in laughter. It was like a red string wrapped around the two of your fingers, webbing you together and pulling you closer and closer until there was no gaps or lack of air. 

It was pure and for the moment you really valued it. What you didn’t know you had until it was gone. You wished you could have hugged her a little bit longer, and learned more about her besides what she was showing you at a service level. You wanted to know Abigail, not Abby. Before it was snatched away from you with the snap of the fingers. Get the gunpowder dust off the sea salt it was time for war. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

YOU SAID YOU LIKED MY HAIR, SO GO AHEAD AND TOUCH IT.

I like your hair today, and your necklace  xoxo, eyes from afar

Maybe it was the validation or the comments but you loved receiving the little notes wrapped in different color ribbons. Maybe you were looking forward to catching your second set of eyes. Lingering outside your door to see if they would show but it was always as if they knew your schedule. Catering to the perfect moments that you were gone to slip the delight at your door. 

The note of this week – bringing joyous to your being made you wear the delicate jewelry even more. At first, when you wore it, it was just a careless decision that you did for fun. Spontaneous and last minute as you untangled it in between your fingertips pulling out the birthstone necklace that was gifted to you from no other than Abby herself; weeks before the arrival of your secret admirer. But the moment you remembered, clasping it on around your neck was the moment you truly valued it even more. You were certainly never going to take it off. 

YOU SAID YOU LIKED THE JUMPER I WORE, SO I ALWAYS WORE IT.

But your bright radiating aura, evidently in hues of pink and purple; signs of love and wisdom was shortly dimmed by the chatter during your afternoon meal. You were set to follow Jordan to the Serevena, patrolling being the last thing you wanted to do of the evening. Endless pit in your stomach nothing felt right. The snap before everything fell apart. 

Out for blood, out for vengeance was Abigail Anderson who returned with blood on her hands. Murderer!Murderer! Red-handed girl with fury in her eyes and a golf club sharp at the end splattering everything into two. 

Wrecking havoc; causing destruction. 

That was all you heard from Jordan as you chewed through the same-old burrito that evening. That was enough to make your eardrums bleed. You could feel your heart in your ears jumping out of your chest at the whispers of Abby’s name, eyes darting from table to table to hear if anyone had caught wind of such a subject: 

I heard she… 

Can’t imagine that…

That’s terrifying…

No Abby mention.

Coincidentally amongst Abby’s absence; the snarky girl was gone with the wind, and so was your secret admirer. The deliveries stopped coming, you were alone, with a set of eyes ‘watching you’ and apples to now peel on your own. . . you found it odd, but one thing for sure was that Abby would hear from you later, where you would gush about this admirer of yours and what you imagined them to be.

IT’S REALLY NICE TO TALK TO YOU, IT’S REALLY NICE TO HOLD YOUR HAND

“Abs on a scale of 1-10 how attractive do you think my admirer is” You pondered, hands entangled in the pages of a fashion magazine. Fingers dusting away at the thin layer of grime and grey from the dust and dirt; signs of age.

“Probably like a 3” Abby confessed bluntly as she walked around her room moving vastly to pack away her belongings. 

Abby’s side of her room was neater in comparison to Manny’s, her laundry was folded, memories stored away for safekeeping, and everything was where it needed to be. Including your ribbon and the scissors she used — the bad duct tape she stole for security. 

“Really?”

“Okay, maybe a 5, it could well off be a creep,” Abby muttered as she continued to push different survival items into her bag, jacket first, followed by flashlights and extra batteries. 

“I don’t think it is though,” Abby froze, panicking instilling in her, it was like a vicious game of hot and cold, you creeping closer and closer to her and it was time for Abby to fall back and bring on the passiveness. 

“What?”

“I mean imagine this, they send me a final letter asking me to meet by the gardens where they reveal their identity to be no other than —”

“Save that for a fantasy, I’m leaving” Abby spat, cutting the happiness in the air with a thick knife which was her voice that evening. It felt like a safety net for her to drop off bad news right after you gave the good ones, almost debunking it creating a hostile environment, and shattering the rose-tinted glasses off. Then you remembered who you were talking to, what you were doing. A flower in the middle of an apocalypse, Abby being covered in thorns. 

“Is it because you killed that man”

“What makes you think it’s…who told you?” Abby furrowed her eyebrows stopping her movement to let you get a good look at her face.  Abby was looking you up and down like you ripped the bandaid off her arm like you were digging your fingers into a cut infecting it with your fingertips and any active bacteria. 

“Word travels around here pretty fast, this isn’t knew information”

A beat. And then another.

“Are you satisfied” You perk up, not breaking eye contact with the blonde in front of you. The fresh azul orbs dilating under the words that left your mouth. She looked at you with such admiration, but the mention of Jerry was enough to make Abby swing hard as she was back in the room holding her weapon of choice. Who was she to play god? Be the bearer of death? Call of evil? Abby thought back to what she was fighting for: was she satisfied? It wouldn’t bring her father back but there was a price on her head. Preferably until her life was obliterated and gone with her head. 

“Hmm”

“Because you don’t look satisfied” Your voice cracked, you were cutting into her skin and Abby was growing steadily uncomfortable, shifting her weight. Cracking her knuckles and rolling her head as she looked at you. Like a pretty Jem stone in a dimly lit room; all eyes on you she didn’t want to talk about this with you. Someone she was so emotionally connected with, god — anybody else but you.

“I…I need to go.” Abby stood up, swinging her backpack in her arms as you followed suit in the silence.

You stood up mimicking her actions taking your magazine in between your fingers and holding it close to your chest. 

“When will you be back?” you whispered, picking at the skin surrounding your nails as you rubbed your lips against each other as you rocked your body forward and backward. Abby’s eyes softened, looking at you up and down as she stuck her tongue in her cheek, clenching her jaw tightly. It almost pained her to say. 

AND EVEN IF WE’RE JUST FRIENDS, WE CAN BE, MORE THAN THAT.

“Soon…I hope, I’ll be back soon” Abby asserted. Abby bowed her head, cusping your cheeks in between her hands as she gave a chaste kiss to your cheek. Calloused fingers rubbing at your soft skin, It was a friendly thing, right? Nothing more?

She didn’t even like you that much.

But you on the other hand weren’t sure of your own feelings.

Like a tough game of tug-of-war, you wanted her, then you didn’t, then you couldn’t shake yourself out of it. You liked her and you wanted her. You wished and hoped that the admirer of yours would be her. The person you had sleepovers where you would laugh about your events and enjoy the delicacies delivered by your admirer you would have it no other way.

When she pulled away you struggled to find the words, hands jittery somewhere between reaching to grab your cheek or to wipe off her kiss with your hand. You weren’t sure how to feel. It was as if someone held a gun to your head telling you the right pill or blue.  

“May your survival be long” you reminded, holding a hand at your arm scratching at your sleeves.

“May your death be swift” 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

CALL ME AT MIDNIGHT, LETS GIVE THIS THING A TRY.

If you could do it all again you would. 

ASK YOU IF ITS OKAY,

You were alone, deep into your ocean of thoughts as your happy moments were coming to an end? Did you take it for granted? 

TO HAVE A SLEEPOVER,

The burrito you ate that evening wanting to come up, mouth sticky with bile. You suddenly didn’t want to patrol the Serevena and help Nora move supplies. It felt wrong – almost impractical like you were in the wrong place. Foot cemented into the floor as you stood at your bed. Shoving supplies into your backpack, tying a strand of the ribbon from your admirer's box around the handle of your bag. You wanted to be back at the base with Abby where the two of you would have your sleepovers, cut your apples, and have competitive matches in the shooting range where you would tell Abby she missed a shot and she would tell you, you held the gun wrong. 

Preparing to leave, doing one final spin at your place of comfort. Freshly made bed and sorrowful grey sheets, you wished for a happier time and a great release. Opening your door, you were met with one box before you would go. Picking up the lightweight box it almost felt impractical to even be wrapped. 

TO DRINK SOME APPLE CIDER, OR MAYBE SOME FRUIT PUNCH

Parting gift for the one I stole these for… don’t forget me Xoxo, A. Anderson Your eyes always 

You smiled to yourself, it was all you ever wanted. Your best friend really was your admirer and you just hoped you could reach her before she was gone and it truly could have been your last time seeing her. Unwrapping the terribly wrapped paper object revealed a shiny sharpened knife with a brown handle. It was Abby’s knife, the one she savored and used only for your apples that she would cut during your lunch breaks. Tears brimmed your eyes moving the object around as if it were malleable, smiling gently to yourself at the irony of it all. Quickly locking the door and throwing the paper that was used to wrap the gift away in the hall trash you ran to try to catch Abby who was already on the truck, across from Mel as she set off on her journey. As the sun was getting low, so were you who had to travel adjacent from your new fount lover. 

What were you gonna say?

Besides: I knew it, of course, you wanted her to know that you felt the same; in fact even more.

AND WE CAN TALK ABOUT HOW WE DON’T LIKE EACH OTHER THAT MUCH.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

“There’s no real you are real right now”

“Shh– baby, I’m real” Abby hushed bringing up her hand to your mouth to silence you. “I’m real.”

You were currently carrying a tray of med supplies but soon it all crashed to the ground; metal tin hitting the floor as Abby backed away into a corner. She looked disheveled different than you had last seen her; whispies around her face. Like she cared a little bit more, but maybe it was because she was with you. 

You couldn’t help but bring Abby into a tight hug head against her shoulder, resting your eyes in full solitude. You were home amidst the violence and her going AWOL that had made Isaac angry with all of you. You lied thickly through your teeth when Isaac dragged you in asking questions about the location and conspiration Abby had going on.

All you could say was you didn’t know.

And it wasn’t a lie but in fact the truth there was not much you really did know. 

Abby held onto you as if you were going to be snatched out of her hands as the both of you cried. Sobbs shaking the both of you. Abby couldn’t stop herself from applying gentle kisses to the side of your head and holding at the nape of your neck during the hug.

“You look like shit!” you acknowledged pulling at the sleeve of her jacket to which Abby rolled her eyes and pulled your hand away.

“Ahh could be worse”

A beat. And another; comfortable silence filling the air between the two of you. You didn’t wanna ask but for your newfound knowledge, you had no other choice but to. You wanted her to know, hell you haven’t seen her for very long and this well could have been the last time you would ever. 

“So it was you? All along” you sputtered, snickering under your breath as you brought your hands across your chest, licking the base of your lips as your eyes wandered off.

“It was – hey! You opened the letters” Abby gave you a look of disbelief, half of it was due to her being scared shitless, others it was the fact that Abby could feel her own hands getting clammy as she rubbed them against the base of her jeans to get it to stop.

“It said 2 —”

“Weeks I know” “I was desperate”

There was silence again. 

“I could just kiss you right now I can’t believe you are alive” You blurted out, giving Abby the most gentle smile. Abby for a second felt her world move in slow motion as she stared with such unconditional love. 

“Then do it”

So you did, rushing forward, throwing your body against Abby’s as the two of you leaned in for a swift kiss. Her lips were chapped, slightly rugged but you didn’t mind applying your smooth ones to her as the movements of your body synched together in eternal sunshine. Nothing in this moment mattered, besides her lips on yours and her hands against your body. Abby’s fingers stroked at your cheeks eventually moving down between your jaw and your neck as she continued. No breaks; no air, until the sound of boots stomping closer to the room rang your ears, forcing you to pull away.

“Okay, I need supplies miserably Nora brought me to you, I have to go, I don’t know if this will be my last time seeing you: I hope it’s not, I’m not exactly in Isaac’s good graces – I think we both know that” Abby spoke with urgency, distrust but also sadness. Abby wasn’t sure but recently she’s been feeling as though things were slipping in between her fingers. She wasn’t sure how long this ecstasy and rapture would last, or the longevity of her contentment. Abby was certain the girl from the room; with the golf club and joel would show her face again.

“It’s okay” you assured, hands now at Abby’s biceps, lips rubbing against each other as you turned your head away from her face, shaking it slightly. 

“But don’t forget. . .” “I’m so incredibly infatuated by you” Abby whispered as she moved in closer to give a swift kiss to your forehead.

Now wasn’t the time for formalities or titles, but you wished with your fingers crossed and your eyes closed shut, that she would return for the conversation worth having. Full honesty and confessional where your girl that smelled of pine would tell you all her rushes of thoughts that nagged at her as she closed her eyes.

“Knife to the chest sweetheart, swing with your right not your left…it’s your better arm” Abby cautioned, pretending to bring her arm up to swing, giving a final squeeze to your cheek as she was headed for the door preparing for ground zero.

“Bye Abby” 

That was the difference, it was as if your body knew. Saying Bye instead of a see you later or, playfully threatening her to come back to you in one piece. Your eyebrows furrowed; your face scrunched as you cringed at your words, as mediocre as they sounded. You caught yourself doing that a lot and you weren’t sure why. Going from present tense to past tense. “I am” to “I did” to “I was” , this happened after you started dreaming. Dreaming that your body was against a cold tile, scrunching into a ball as you let out your last breath alone.

You knew. 

“This is not goodbye — don’t say that, it’s see you later!” Abby snapped, giving you a hand motion as she swung the door open, crouching down as she moved steadily through the room as it closed behind her with a loud CLICK! From the lock.

“I’ll see you later” Your hand went from waving to at your side as your smile dropped and abruptly the warm room felt cold. Very cold.

But you weren’t going to see her later. Body paralyzed to the floor as the bullet wound in your stomach bled crimson all over the floor. As red as the Honeycrisp apples you ate on Wednesdays. An auburn-haired girl rushes past you following the footsteps of Nora. You were crashing and your body was failing you. Whimpers of pain escaped your lips as you held onto your stomach like you had a bad stomach ache, rolling onto your side as your vision became a nuisance and blurry mess. During your last few moments, you thought of Abby and her bright smile, all the plans she had for the two of you, and how you were finally happy that you got your happy ending, 

But at what cost?

You weren’t going to get to drink apple cider with her or hug her again, and that’s what destroyed you the most as a salted tear fell from your eye. Apple was placed on the table rotting from the inside out, With Abby’s knife poked into its core. Death has met its match.

You were the apple of her eye, and you were destroyed and eaten whole indefinitely. 

taglist

@beforeimdeceased @starologist @destielcore @rarestdoll @luvrgalore @ellsss @zahraaziza @emluvselandabs @abbyily @elliestrwbrry @mossc0vered @spacewlf @as2rid @ariianelle @spaceshipellie @lottiematthewsceo @emonopolyman @imamybubbles @mikasbby @trulygnomed

© cowgirlcherrie

[yellowbunnydreams]

Do you need some Vitamin D? (Incubus! William x Oblivious! F! Reader) [Part 8]

~This chapter is for anybody on their period, I'm sorry, it sucks~

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Want more or something different? *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

@ruh--roh-raggy @xp-doggy @redbunny03 @marigold-petalz @seviliet @astinkerofarat @iamnotwiddle @imtiredshow

CW: 18+ MINORS DNI. Fluff, age gap (Reader 20's - William Afton 40's(?)), teratophilia, meet-cute, punny pick-up lines, scenes of working out, minor porn-logic, ditzy! reader, could be classed as bimbo! reader?, size-difference, flirting, monster-lover, sexual innuendos, Monster! AU, mention of reader being on their period - blood - period products

A knock on the door startled you out of a deep sleep, wondering for a moment where you were as you mumbled something unintelligible and cracked open your eyes to see what was happening. William's greying head popped around the door as it opened, giving you a warm smile that made your chest flutter slightly, his hair messy like he'd just gotten out of bed too, you could make out the faint spice of his cologne which made you feel comforted as you wrapped yourself up in the duvet more.

William had to smile as he looked at you, hair messy, half-asleep and curled up in the sheets which had clearly been messed up with your tossing and turning during the night. He'd come in to offer you breakfast, or brunch rather, as he knew that it was approaching afternoon and had taken the liberty of phoning himself in so that he could spend more time with his precious little bunny.

"Good barely morning, bunny." He chuckled, making you groan and rub at your eyes with the heel of your palm. Watching you sitting up and feeling a little disappointed that you weren't wearing the pyjamas that he'd brought you. His nose twitched as he took a deep breath in, brow furrowing as his silvery eyes darted around.

"Do you smell that?" He asked, making you pause as you sniffed instinctually too, shrugging your shoulders as you felt sluggish in the morning.

"I don't smell anything. Don't you start, my landlord was weird enough yesterday." Watching his eyes snap back to you as you made the comment, his brow furrowing further and a frown developing.

"What? What's this about your landlord?"

"Oh, I have a new landlord, he's...a bit weird. He said I smelt weird yesterday too, but he got really close. I think he's maybe just a bit eccentric."

William was glad that the door hid most of his bulky frame as he felt his foot thumping unhappily against the floor, the thought of Dave being so close to you and daring to even attempt to get close enough to make him growl lowly. Luckily, you didn't seem to notice it as he turned the growl into a cough, pretending like he was clearing his throat as he gave you a reassuring smile when you looked up concerned.

"Oh bunny, I wouldn't think on it too much, but please let me know if they give you any more trouble, and I'll come by to sort them out, okay?" Waiting for your sleepy confirmation before he stepped in, nose still twitching as he tried to place on what smelt different in your room. Gently placing his rough hand on your hair and stroking it softly, making you groan and William's chest tighten at the sound. Feeling his pulse racing. "I'm going to make French toast, you want some? I even got the maple syrup this time."

"Go on then, spoil me." You teased, feeling your cheeks heating up as you wondered what it would be like if you could just summon the courage up to stand up and kiss your boss, but knowing yourself well, you were half-convinced that you would accidentally sucker-punch William in the face with your head.

"Oh I plan to. Come down when you're ready and I'll make sure everything's set out."

You watched his broad back leave the room, realising that he was wearing another tight t-shirt that showed off his dad-bod whilst still showing off how strong he was. Part of you wondered whether the coarse hair along his arms matched what might be on his chest, and if that was only because of his hidden nature.

Standing up, you wobbled slightly as it suddenly felt like your lower stomach had dropped. Looking back at the white linen on the bed instinctually. Face paling as you spotted blood against them. Hand moving to the back of your pants and feeling a panicked bile rising in your throat as your body seemed to realise what was happening and hit you with the starting dull ache that punctuated your cramps.

"Fuck."

Waddling yourself to the bathroom, you had the sense to grab the nearest set of pyjamas, feeling yourself wincing as you realised that they were the nice ones that William had gotten you before deciding against it and picking up some sweatpants and a t-shirt from the pile of laundry on the landing, only vaguely registering that they belonged to William.

You cleaned yourself up as best as you could, feeling flustered and embarrassed that you hadn't even considered that you could get your period whilst staying with William, your heart pounding as you folded up toilet-paper and placed it in your underwear before heading downstairs. Your cheeks flushed as you weren't looking forwards to asking William to give you a lift to the store to pick some bits up.

William Afton choked on his coffee when he turned to see you coming down the stairs.

You were wearing his grey sweatpants, which drowned you with how long and baggy they were in comparison to your much smaller frame. And one of his t-shirts to boot, seeing it slipping off of one shoulder and revealing smooth skin that made him swallow hard and angle himself against the counter so that you wouldn't see how hard he was.

"Wow...umm...hello?" He found himself speechless, trying to swallow down the urge to go over and kiss you then and there. His nose twitching rapidly as he seemed to bounce slightly in place, his foot tapping nervously.

"I um...I figure out it's probably me that smells weird." You mumbled, cheeks heating up as William frowned. Taking the chance to make his way over to you and gently stroke your upper arms with his large, rough hands. Making sure to stand behind you to hide his arousal at the sight of you in his clothes as he leaned in and gently began to sniff you. Making you laugh even as your pulse became frantic with how close he was to your own hormonal body.

"You seem to be right, you smell different. It's not bad! Please don't think that bunny....But are you hurt, you smell..metallic?" He sniffed again, concern lacing his gravelling voice as he continued to gently stroke and touch your arms. Wanting to be close to you, to show his affection.

"I uh...I've started...that time..."

"Time?"

"You know...."

"Bunny, you can say 'period', you know? It's not a dirty word, or a dirty thing. Only boys are scared of a normal bodily function." William chuckled as he could tell you were clearly uncomfortable, but wanting to make you feel more comfortable as he raised a greying eyebrow at you. "And I'm certainly not a boy. I'm a man."

"Technically you're an Incubunny." Watching his expression contort with confusion before he laughed loudly, making you smile as he gave you a gentle squeeze and tapped his forehead against the side of your head in a way that made you practically melt despite it being such a simple gesture.

"Come on, miss technicality, your breakfast is going to get cold. But I'll take you to the store to get whatever you need, okay? And don't worry, we can throw anything in the wash that needs it, and you can keep wearing my clothes if they're comfy for you?"

"Thanks William."

"You're more than welcome, bunny." Tapping your head again with his before he stood up, he felt better for being closer to you. Swallowing softly as he thought about what he would be able to do to help you and make you more comfortable.

And how the hell he was going to keep you away from your apartment and Dave for long enough for you to pass into the next phase of your cycle.

"William, did you have to buy everything? I could have paid you know."

"I also know what we pay you lot per shift, no way was I letting you pay for it."

"It's tampons, not gold bars, Incubnny."

"And I got you treats! What kind of man would I be if I made you buy your own treats?" William scoffed and rolled his eyes as you opened the door for him and allowed him to place down the grocery bags onto his kitchen counter. The opened box of tampons on top of one as he insisted on you not having to wait to get back to his house to clean up and make yourself comfortable, placing them to one side as he kicked his shoes off and began sorting through things in the bags.

He had to admit, he might have gone slightly overboard with it all.

William had spent a good while interrogating you before he left the car about what your favourite things were, he had to admit that the cashier had looked at him like he was mad when he turned up with a basket filled with junk food, chocolate and painkillers. It had taken everything in him not to growl, but now that you were back together in his home, he felt much more relaxed.

"Do you want to shower, bunny? I'll put something on the TV for us." He raised an eyebrow, watching you nod and head upstairs, feeling a little disappointment that you would no longer be in his clothes, but also partly grateful as he wasn't sure his heart could take much more of you being so teasingly perfect for him and yet so unobtainable.

You certainly felt better for the shower, groaning as the hot water hit your skin. William had offered to cook lunch for you on the drive back too, which you thought was really sweet. Deciding to try out the shower-set that the incubus has gotten you and realising with a smile that it smelt like pecan pie and salted caramel, thinking about how he must of subconsciously picked it since he'd already said that pecan pie was his favourite dessert. Unaware that the man had deliberately chosen it as you made sure to coat yourself in the sweet smelling lotion once you were out of the shower and pulling on the pyjamas he had gotten you. A little large, but the little bunnies over the pants and the white tank-top where cute, blushing as you thought about asking if he could let you feel more of his fluffiness whilst you were feeling your cramps coming on, making you groan and rub your face.

You knew that you were all over the place. Your cramps were ramping up and you felt your face contorting slightly as you tried to compensate for them when you carefully walked down the stairs.

William was downstairs and waiting for you, his silvery eyes widening slightly as he caught sight of you before clearing his throat and blushing slightly under his greying stubble. Chewing his lip as he held out a cold can of soda and a packet of painkillers.

"I thought these might help, they're supposed to be a combination one so they help with neural pain and muscle pain. It sounded good." You smiled at how sweet he was, internally sighing as you wished he would see the way you looked up at him adoringly. But you popped out the recommended dose and swallowed them down with a mouthful of drink. "I've also put on cartoons for you. I didn't know whether you wanted to set yourself up on the couch? I'll order pizza tonight." Smiling warmly down at you as you smiled up at him in return.

"Thanks William. You know, if I was speaking to any girl and they described what you did, I'd tell them to marry that man." Hoping that the horrendous blush on your cheeks as you could finally think clearly now that the placebo was kicking in before the actual pills. William chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Not sure I'm marriage material, bunny, just doing my best to make sure that my cute little bunny is comfortable despite nature's unfortunate insistence in making it difficult."

"Hey...Can I ask a favour?" A nervous tint to your voice as he tipped his head curiously to one side. William smiled gently, making his eyes crinkle slightly.

"Of course."

"Can...Can I hug you again...either as ...." You gestured vaguely to his body and wondered how you were going to phrase it in a way that didn't sound derogatory to William as a person. But he simply laughed and wrapped his arms around you, resting his head ontop of yours and closing his eyes, humming softly as he stroked your back. Slowly feeling himself filling out as he held onto you, allowing you to feel his already broad chest filling out as your head began to sink into soft fluff rather than pliable dad-bod muscle.

"Oh I get it, you want just one thing now you know, and it's too cute to resist telling you 'no'." Chuckling in that deep, gravelly voice as you managed to wiggle and pop your head up so your chin rested on his chest. Seeing the lapine face, complete with squished nose, fur, precariously perched glasses and ears practically meeting they were so close together at the tips. Smiling broadly as you wrapped your arms around him.

William picked you up easily, making you yelp as he carefully manoeuvred you with him bulk onto the couch and laid himself down onto his side. Holding you against his chest with your back pressed to his chest as his nose twitched happily, gently resting his head on you and nuzzling into your hair as the TV flickered with pictures of 'Freddy and Friends' show, the volume low as he placed one large paw-hand onto your lower stomach. Making it flutter uncertainly for a moment before you realised how warm he was and relaxing into it, he was like your own heating pad against your hurting back and cramping stomach.

"Thank you William."

"You're welcome, little bunny. It feels nice to be able to relax around you. You don't mind whichever form I'm in."

"That's because you're handsome either way."

"Sweet talker."

"I'm telling the truth!"

"Sure you are, and I'm actually the Easter Bunny." He chuckled, making you laugh as you smacked his arm, feeling the incubus pout above your head.

"I happen to think you'd make a brilliant Easter Bunny."

"Oh yes, the claws and teeth are especially reassuring to children." Hugging you tighter against his body and keeping his head ontop of yours, wishing the moment would never end as he tried to think of more ways to flirt with you. To convince you that he would love you and take care of you if you let him.

And you didn't want the moment to end either. And wished the stubborn incubus would notice your attempts to declare your feelings towards him. Monster or not.

[ask-ponys-gamers-cafe]

[undead-supernova]

Masterlist

plot: your friendship with Eddie is still so new. and it's good. so good. but how do you learn to let go of the past and enjoy the present when your life is such a stark contrast from the life you once had?

pairings: modern!bestfriend!Eddie x bisexual!fem!reader

important note: GUESS WHO IS BACK!!!!! thought you'd seen the last of me but here I am!!!! this is a one-off of my High Tolerance series! (this is roughly three months after they first met!) divider by @strangergraphics also, Eddie's outfit is inspired by this fanart by @aicosu!

warnings: reader having insecurities, friend betrayal, smoking cigarettes, alcohol, a helping of lovely fluff and giggles, LOTS OF DIALOGUE!!!

this is so so so heavily inspired by all my ghosts by Lizzy McAlpine!!!!! welcome to their lore!

wc: 4.3k

It’s odd, the way change, good change can alter your mind. There’s something so moving about it, this newfound knowledge that something you thought would last forever was purely momentary.

Take this change for example, the kind that you never expected would arise three months ago. A new friend, a now close friend that was shifting the way you saw yourself and saw the world. A friend you didn’t really think could possibly exist, stuck only in half-realistic novels and 40,000-word fanfictions.

But here was this guy, this thunderstorm of a man who had changed your life in such a short amount of time. Eddie Munson said that you were his new best friend. And he seems, at least for now, to have meant it.

There was nothing like late September, when the humidity let up and light jackets were pulled in tight. A cool breeze started to set in, leaving Southerners at ease for the first time since March. Late September, where life felt even more like a gift.

So, when Eddie asked if you wanted to go on a night drive, you couldn’t say yes fast enough.

He picked you up, even going so far as to lean over and open the door for you. You hoisted yourself up, drawn in by his casual apparel. Tonight, he was dressed in a charcoal sweater, different holes being held together by safety pins. He was snug in his black leggings and boots, wrists still littered with bracelets. Knuckles still shadowed by rings. 

The only thing that felt unusual was the distinct scent of cologne that wafted toward you the second your seatbelt clicked. The sandalwood, that musk tinging with spice. An overflow of fragrance that was making your head a tad fuzzy.

“Wow, you smell good,” were the first words out of your mouth.

“You think so?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips.

Avoiding the question, you asked, “Where are we headed tonight?”

The last breath of marigold sunset melted in his eyes. “Well, first, we need snacks. Lots of them.”

There was nothing better than a stroll through a QuickTrip, the many aisles usually guiding you to the drink selection that felt like a playground. What would it be tonight? Dr. Pepper? Apple juice? RedBull? Chocolate milk? Strawberry?

But there was something that seemed to switch on for you, standing in that cold air. This trepidation that figures would creep up behind you, shadows that could shatter your life with a quick snap. You went back to your ponderings, as if it was out of your hands. The reflections that came quickly under the fluorescent lights, the recognition that change brought about many emotions, many memories that you’d rather leave buried.

You could feel their presence as you grabbed strawberry milk and made your way to the candy aisle. It was there you caught Eddie crouched down, trying to decide between Reese’s peanut butter cups and 3 Musketeers. The ghosts felt ready to pounce at any chance they got, swirling in your head with a vibrancy you hadn’t anticipated. Months of being tossed around like a rag doll, made to believe that your best friend was a monster. Were complicit in their games. 

“You need to try Red Vines.”

Eddie sprung back up, leaving you to blink for a moment as your eyes adjusted to the pack he thrusted in front of your face.

“Oh, you mean red sticks of chalk?” you wondered, lifting an eyebrow. “Yeah, no thanks.”

He pretended to get upset, jolting back as if you’d stung him. “Jeez, don’t be such a hater.”

“I’m the biggest hater for Red Vines.”

He pouted. “That’s fucked up.”

Shrugging, you threw up your hands. “More for you!” 

“Yeah, but we could’ve enjoyed it together,” he groaned.

“Poor thing,” you said sarcastically, imitating his pout.

His eyes narrowed. “You are brutal, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart?

“Sweetheart?”

He searched your face, his widening eyes mirroring yours. As if he’d been caught. As if he were in trouble. “What, can I not call you sweetheart?”

He said it again.

Heat was starting to build in your neck, your face. “Um, uh…”

Eddie’s eyes screwed shut. “Shit, sorry—”

“No!” you exclaimed. “It’s not that. It’s just—”

“Lame.”

“Gentle.”

His eyelids opened, now surprised. A hush fell over you as you made eye contact, the only sound being his fiddling with the Red Vines packaging and the muffled hum of “Hold Me Now” by Thompson Twins coming through the speakers.

“Uh,” he started, a flash of red appearing on his cheeks. “Is that a bad thing?”

“It’s a good thing,” you assured him. “It’s just…unexpected.”

For the last few months, you truly believed you didn’t know what to think of Eddie. But in that moment, you realized that maybe the chains and the hair and his choice of music and movies had played a part in your blind observations. And it’s not that you thought that Eddie couldn’t be gentle. You just supposed he might be a little harder than he was.

But the way he said the pet name—nickname, the way it fit so softly in his mouth, his voice. You couldn’t help but feel a calmness washing over you at the sentiment. 

“It’s kind,” you answered.

His mood seemed to lift. “So, can I, like, keep calling you sweetheart?”

“Yes—” you said a little too quickly, clearing your throat to pause. “I, uh. Yeah. Yes.”

“Alright,” he replied, a smile lurking on his lips. “Sweetheart.”

You surely could’ve died right there.

During the day, Atlanta was a clusterfuck of traffic, chaos in the lack of turning signals and kindness to let people over. Nothing but honks and just-missed accidents. But at night, even in an overflow of traffic, the city seemed to turn electric. There was something in the air that made it magnetic, the sparkle of office buildings and street lamps guiding you towards your destination with ease. That orange glow that highlighted the path forward, the kind that made you wonder if you’d entered an alternate dimension.

And there beside you was your best friend. You couldn’t love anything more than riding shotgun next to Eddie, watching him belt out the lyrics to a Killers song in between shimmers of light dancing off his profile. “When You Were Young” set the scene for your journey, turning cinematic in nature.

This was so different from the life you knew mere months ago. The long nights of loneliness, staving off any thoughts of the friends that seemed to fade away as soon as you’d made new ones. And maybe it’d been stupid—pathetic—how much you cried. How much you hated yourself and hated the way you’d been used. 

But it was nothing compared to the self-loathing. That knowledge that you had everything to do with the downfall of not just your reputation, but the people who you’d held close. Especially one.

“Hey, you doing okay?” Eddie asked, turning down the volume. The crackle blaring from the speakers was what really caught your attention.

It was stupid, really. The they-said, she-said. The college drama that looked a little too much like high school. Maybe it was in the way outcasts find each other and realize they have too much growing up to do—and that involves recreating the high school experiences they never had. You just so happened to get lost in that crossfire and became the ostracized fool used in their petty schemes. 

You nodded, unable to keep the fake smile on your lips. “Yeah, yeah. Just taking everything in.”

“Care to elaborate on ‘everything’?”

You wondered what you’d tell her if given the second chance. How you’d describe Eddie’s friendship and the way you thought that they’d get along. If she were here, still attached at the goddamn hip, what would she say? How would she act? 

Who is she now?

“Have you ever royally fucked up your life and had to find a way to start over?”

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie drawled, letting out a low whistle. “Big time.” With a gentle sigh and a glance over at you, he asked, “Have I ever mentioned Ronnie?”

“Ronnie?”

“Guess not,” he said with a shrug. “Well, Ronnie and I were best friends in high school. I mean, super close. Like, we lived in the same trailer park and rode to school together every day until, like, two months before she graduated. Ever heard of a prom?”

You snorted. “Yeah, Eddie. I’ve heard of a prom.”

“Just had to check. Didn’t know if Southerners were too busy doing, like, cotillion or debutante balls or whatever.”

Rolling your eyes, you pushed out the memory of hairspray and curlers as you responded, “Well, we do but high schools have proms.”

“Excellent. Well, I kinda asked her to prom and she, you know, said yes.”

“You were dating?”

“Nah. No. It was nothing like that. I just…” He sighed. “I wanted to do something nice for her. Senior year and all. Since I was being held back another year, I wanted to put more effort in. Ron never dated anyone in high school, and it was her choice. Like, she didn’t want to date anyone ever. But I thought that because it was the last chance, I’d do something cheesy and fun. And she said yes which was really cool. I saved up to rent a suit and everything. But come like, fuck, three days before prom, she told me she was going with a group of girls instead.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “The fuck? Why would she do that?”

Eddie grimaced. “They were all going to the same college. Thinking about it now, I guess she just wanted to have some kinda safety net going in. But, at the time, I was fucking furious. Like, this is my best friend. I spent the little money I’d had on renting a suit. In advance. And there was a cancellation fee. In a small town with fuck all people. Tell me how that makes any sense.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “Anyways, I was pissed. So, I went over to her place and just fucking unloaded.

“I told her she was selfish for trying to fit in with these lame girls who she’d hardly spoken to. Ronnie told me that I didn’t know shit about who she did and didn’t talk to. And when I tried to tell her we’d been best friends since we were kids and that I definitely knew who she did and didn’t hang out with, she told me that she’d been buddying up with these girls at school for months. Oh, and that she never told me because she knew how I’d react.”

“Y’all never resolved it?” you asked after he paused. “It seems like a mild miscommunication.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly a mild fight, especially at seventeen,” he said with a quick glance over at you. “I told her she was a piece of shit for hanging out with these rich fucks who would never understand her or let go of the fact that we’re ‘trailer park trash’—again, I was seventeen so I had no idea I shouldn’t even think like that.

"But she said that, you know, not all rich kids are as judgmental as I thought they were and that these girls were kind. It didn’t matter if Chrissy and Heather were on the cheer squad. They liked her for her. Guess I couldn’t stomach it. I told her she was a gullible idiot. She told me to fuck off since I was clearly jealous that she had friends and I didn’t. Which is, shit, half-true.

“I told her to get her rich little friends to pay me back for my stupid tux and then to leave my life for good. I honest-to-god convinced myself that that had been her plan all along—get the full-ride scholarship and ditch her best friend. The next morning, I found an envelope with enough cash to cover my tux and Wayne and I’s bills for, like, three months with a note telling me that she’d never forgive me for what I said to her and…to have a good life.” 

You noticed his eyes begin to glass over, as if it was too painful for him to stomach. “And…and there was a note from Chrissy. Chrissy fucking Cunningham, this perfect-looking cheerleader that had the biggest dickhead for a boyfriend—captain of the goddamn basketball team and as hardcore Christian as people are here.” He shook his head. “Yeah, she, uh, told me that she was sorry that people treated me like shit and that, for what it was worth, she’d done everything she could to stop the bullying but failed. And she didn’t want to graduate without letting me know she’d always found me cool and to just push through. Said she believed in me and my music and everything.”

A tear escaped Eddie’s lashes. Without hesitation, you reached over to catch it before it cascaded down his cheek. And without any knowledge as to why, your pointer finger lingered there, brushing his skin. As if it was second nature.

You could’ve sworn you saw his tense posture ease, his spine finally meeting the seat. But he kept his eyes on the road, leaving you to remove your finger when he turned on his blinker. You didn’t look away from him as he veered off onto your exit.  

“I met all those weird kids that next school year and through them found Robin and Steve. Fucking Steve Harrington who was born into money and was popular and shit. I mean, his nickname was King Steve. Like, how fucking pretentious, right? But he’s one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. Sometimes he’s a little stupid, the definition of a himbo, but nice nonetheless. He helped Wayne and I out the moment he caught wind from Robin that we were close to getting evicted. All three of us worked and got our degrees online at night. Then we…came here.”

You couldn’t help but watch him, noticing the way that he was filtering between different emotions by the second, as if he didn’t know how to feel about it. Even now.

“All of this to say…yeah, I’ve royally fucked up before. I made that bed. I lie in it every day of my life.” 

You stayed quiet as he pulled into the parking space facing your apartment building. The poor excuse for a streetlamp barely gave way to his features now. But Eddie turned his torso to face you, fingers tapping along the cupholder. His eyes found yours, the captivating brown swallowing you in its intensity. “Okay, so what’s your story? How’d you royally fuck things up?”

The only thing you could do was pause, the stillness of the van and the distant hum of cicadas finally allowing you respite. You couldn’t help but search his eyes, trying to find a reason to keep him in the dark, to keep that hidden pain inside and shield him from your mistakes.

But it was in that scouring that you realized that you had no reason to hide. If Eddie was willing to show the nasty parts of himself, why shouldn’t you?

“Can we go inside first?”

One spilled pot of mac and cheese, two cigarettes, and three shots of vodka later, you finally told Eddie what happened.

You both sat criss-crossed on the rug next to your coffee table, facing one another. Stray hairs fell over Eddie’s face, his curls now wrapped into a low bun. You couldn’t help but find it cute, even in the face of your unspoken history being brought to the surface.

“I had kind of a big friend group the last few years of college,” you started finally. “I had this D&D group with a few of them and I was really happy. But then I met this other group one night and, I don’t know, I guess I just felt this desire to be loved.

“It was these two couples who’d been best friends since high school and they found out that I was bi and since all of them were too, they thought it would be fun if we all kissed each other and even, like, go further, I guess. We never did the further thing, though.”

“This is the gayest thing I’ve ever heard,” Eddie commented, a hint of a playful smile on his lips.

This made you chuckle. “I know, right? Truly doomed by the narrative since the start.”

“Truly.” 

“So, anyways, I hung out with them a lot. Smoked a lot and kinda forgot my other friendships. I still saw them, but I was just so intrigued by how much those people wanted me. Me, some girl from Tennessee who hadn’t seen much and was in this huge city and… I think I got blinded by the opportunity to have four different people want me like that. I don’t even think I realized I was being used until it was all over.

“One of them even told me what to say whenever we all hung out. Just to, like, put out feelers for kissing, I guess? And I would say what they told me to and just giggle because I thought it was just stupid fun. Like, they knew the others better than I did so, to me, it was just a harmless joke. I didn’t actually expect for us to kiss all the time. We were supposed to be friends first. I even thought we were all close friends by the end of it.”

“What about your other friends?” Eddie asked. “Where did they go?”

“Well, they were trying to tell me that I wasn’t the same, that I was acting all weird and that it wasn’t like me to keep skipping sessions. They told me that they didn’t even like my new friends and that they were worried about me. That they’d heard bad things about them. And because I had a big mouth, I brought this up with the new friends and they just…” You took a deep breath, trying to keep everything inside you from erupting. “They told me to leave everyone. To forget about people who were hating on us for no reason. So…I did. But that’s when it all went to shit.”

It took another deep breath for your heart to slow, the resurfaced memories as bright as they could be. The feverish kisses in their dorm room, the twining of hands in hallway shadows. Their dark blue hair in your hands, tongue piercing brushing against your lips. How it was all you craved, how it was the most painful guilt you’d ever experienced. 

“The one that asked me to say stuff…we kinda kissed when other people weren’t around. And I didn’t know it, but they’d dated one of my other friends.”

“The one that did the D&D group?”

“Yeah, she’d been my best friend. But they’d dated long before I knew the person.”

“So, what, this new new friend didn’t want you being friends with their ex?”

“And said ex didn’t want me being friends with this new new friend. She was trying to warn me, but I didn’t understand. I didn’t get it.”

“Wait,” Eddie said, holding up his hand. “Okay, I think I’m getting confused. They’ve both got names, correct?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle again. “Okay, so Blake, my best friend at the time, was dating Devon who was part of this new new friend group. Blake tried to warn me that Devon was bad, but Devon was saying the same stuff about Blake. And then Devon was the one I kissed when their boyfriend, Ryan, wasn’t around. Which I admit is shitty of me, but Devon swore they were in an open relationship. Which I really did believe. We were all kissing, you know?”

“I’m guessing they weren’t.”

With a nod, you continued. “This group only lasted, like, five months at the most. After New Year’s which, by the way, was spent with all of us making out and being the gayest group of people on Earth, I suddenly had absolutely no contact with them. They all ghosted me. And when I asked Devon what was up, they told me that the kissing was too much and that they were concerned I was getting too close. And that I wanted more from them than they wanted from me ‘cause they were in a happy relationship.

"Which, not that it matters, but they weren’t. Both couples fought in front of me all the time. It was bizarre how many times it was like I wasn’t even there.”

You couldn’t help but think of the day all five of you went on a hike together. Devon and Ryan passed around a four-hundred dollar dab rig that they thought was a great idea to bring into the woods. Devon slipped on a rock, causing the dab rig to crack which then resulted in a full-on screaming match. Ryan unloaded into Devon, wondering how they could be so stupid. Devon had stayed at your apartment that night, crying in your arms. The other couple, Eve and Corie, had just as many arguments, usually pissing contests over who was more unhappy. It truly was a bizarre time in your life.

“And all this time…I resented the friends that I’d been close with. I resented Blake for so fucking long. I just thought she was so judgmental and rude and mean and…” Shaking your head, you turned away from Eddie. You couldn’t stand to look at him, to remember that he was even listening to you. “I let her down and couldn’t even go back because she didn’t want me. None of them did. Blake, Lisa, Jessie, and Jana told me that what was done was done and that I couldn’t come back. No matter how much I apologized.” 

“They didn’t even hear you out?”

“Nope.”

“Well, that’s kinda bullshit.” The comment made you turn back to him, watching as he shook his head. “I mean, you made some bad friends, yeah, but you realized you fucked up and had the balls to face them and apologize. They could’ve heard you out. Especially Blake.”

“Couldn’t you say the same about Ronnie?” you questioned.

You thought it would sound harsher than you meant it, but Eddie understood. He gave you a half-smile. “Yeah, you’re right. I could.”

Nodding, you added, “I take responsibility for the role I played in the destruction. I regret hurting them every day. Mixing friendship and romance is…” You sighed, shaking your head. “I don’t know. It’s tricky.”

His eyebrows lifted, voice laced with intrigue. “You didn’t mention it being romantic.”

“I said we kissed when Devon’s partner wasn’t there,” you stated plainly.

“Kissing and romance can be separate.”

A bitter scoff left your lips, quiet resentment still sitting in your bones. “Well, maybe I was the only one kissing with feeling then.” 

You never wanted to repeat that desperate yearning for someone that didn’t feel the same way. Never again would you waste your time on someone who didn’t want you. If lines were to blur and cross, you would have to draw a deep fucking strike in the sand. 

Especially if they were already in a relationship.

“I do know I was a homewrecker. I saw they broke up a few months later. All their pictures had been deleted off of Devon’s Instagram.”

“That relationship was unstable long before you came around,” he reasoned.

Shaking your head, you said, “Yeah, but I still kissed Devon when I was well aware they were dating Ryan.”

“And you haven’t stopped beating yourself up for your mistake for how long?”

“A little over a year,” you whispered.

Eddie paused, his eyes wandering around the room until they landed on you again. “So…when you said you were taking it all in…”

“I meant the fact that I actually have a friend again.”

“Best friend.”

As you gazed at him, you couldn’t help yourself from leaning over and wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Woah,” he whispered before bringing you further into his grasp.

A rush of tears left your eyes, a choking sound leaving your lips. The release of a story once held too tightly to your chest, the understanding and compassion of someone who truly accepted you for your mistakes. It was overwhelming to feel this restored, to feel something unfurl and begin the process of mending. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t be,” he whispered back. “I’m guessing you haven’t told anyone?”

“There hasn’t been anyone to tell,” you admitted. 

You realized that this was the first time you’d ever hugged. 

“You’ve made a mistake, but that doesn’t mean you’re a piece of shit. You just got caught up in that feeling. I get it. I mean, I ruined shit by wanting to be picked over other people. It’s not the same, but it kinda is at the same time. So, I get it. I get you.” His eyes shifted away from you before they came back, elation filling them. “But guess what?”

“What?”

“We can move on. Together.”

“What do you mean?” you questioned.

“Well, we can keep each other in check. If you ever lose yourself in someone, I’ll let you know. I’m not going anywhere.”

You couldn’t help but blurt out, “You say that now.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “What, is that a challenge to prove you wrong?”

As you looked at him, you couldn’t deny that something was bubbling in your stomach. Bubbling? Blooming? Whatever it was, you liked it. “I don’t know, do you want it to be?”

“Yeah, maybe I do,” he stated, grinning.

And then Eddie was the one to initiate the hug, quickly wrangling you into his arms. You nearly sat on his lap, just holding one another. You couldn’t say how long you sat there, breaths lining up and grips tightening. 

Maybe looking back was the only way you could truly see how far you’d come. How far you were able to go now, with the past staying exactly where it needed to be. And, at least for now, you had Eddie at your side.

thank you to everyone who has been supporting me during this hiatus :') it has meant everything to me

[pupsmailbox]

AUTUMN ID PACK

NAMES︰ acer. acorn. acre. amber. apple. archer. arden. ash. asher. aspen. aster. auburn. august. augusta. augustus. autumn. autumna. autumnal. autumnelle. autumnessa. autumnette. autumni. autumnine. autumnus. bean. birch. blaire. bonfire. bramble. branch. briar. carmel. casper. cassia. cassiah. cedar. cerridwen. chai. chestnut. cider. cinna. clara. cocoa. cora. corn. cornucopia. cozy. crimson. crisp. crow. ellis. ember. equinox. eve. fall. fallelle. fallen. fallette. falline. fallon. faye. finn. flannel. foggy. forest. forrest. ginger. glenna. goldie. halloween. harper. harvest. harveste. harvester. hawk. hay. hazel. hollis. hunter. jora. juniper. kaziah. keziah. latte. leaf. libra. lief. lilith. linden. luna. maize. maple. marigold. marley. marlow. maze. melanie. mocha. moss. november. nutmeg. oak. oakley. october. opal. orchard. orla. pansy. pie. pine. piper. poe. pumpkin. raine. raven. redd. rory. roslyn. rowan. russet. ruston. sabrina. saffron. scarecrow. september. sienna. sorrel. sullivan. sylvia. tamsin. teresa. tessa. wesley. willow.

PRONOUNS︰ amber/amber. apple/apple. au/autumn. aug/august. august/august. autumn/autumn. branch/branch. brew/brew. cider/cider. cloud/cloud. co/cozy. cocoa/cocoa. cof/coffee. corn/corn. cot/cottage. cozy/cozy. crow/crow. drift/drift. drizzle/drizzle. fa/fall. fall/fall. flannel/flannel. glisten/glisten. glow/glow. gold/gold. hallo/ween. hallow/halloween. halloween/halloween. haze/haze. hazel/hazel. hug/hug. jacko/lantern. lea/leaf. leaf/leaf. maple/maple. maze/maze. mellow/mellow. moss/moss. oct/october. october/october. orange/orange. pie/pie. plush/plush. pump/kin. pump/pumpkin. pumpkin/pie. pumpkin/pumpkin. rain/rain. raven/raven. red/red. sca/scarf. sept/september. september/september. sip/sip. snug/snug. snuggle/snuggle. soft/soft. soothe/soothe. spice/spice. sweater/sweater. swirl/swirl. syrup/syrup. thanks/giving. tick/treat. treat/treat. trick/trick. tuck/tuck. wa/warm. warm/warm. whiff/whiff. whisk/whisk. wrap/wrap. yellow/yellow. 🌽. 🍁. 🍂. 🍄. 🍎. 🎃. 🕯️. 🥧. 🧣. 🧶.

[darkforestfae-tea]

𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲, 𝐌𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐲!

Mabon marks the Fall Equinox! Typically observed on September 21 in the Northern Hemisphere, Mabon spans from September 21 to September 29. It is a time of balance, when day and night are equal in length, symbolizing harmony and equilibrium. Many cultures celebrate this period as a time of thanksgiving and reflection, honoring the bountiful harvest and the changing of the seasons. Traditional festivities might include feasts with seasonal foods like apples, pumpkins, and squash, along with activities such as gathering with loved ones, giving thanks, and preparing for the colder months ahead.

People often take this opportunity to connect with nature, perhaps by taking walks in the crisp autumn air, collecting colorful leaves, or setting up altars with symbols of the season. It's also a time for introspection, to consider what has been achieved over the past months and to set intentions for the future.

In modern times, Mabon encourages a moment of pause in our busy lives, reminding us to appreciate the abundance around us, to cultivate gratitude, and to seek balance in our own lives. Whether through quiet reflection, community gatherings, or simply enjoying a warm cup of cider while watching the leaves fall, Mabon offers a beautiful reminder of the cyclical nature of life and the ever-present opportunity for renewal and growth.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆ Picture from Pinterest

This post will consist of several sections:

Correspondences

Activities

Common Rituals

Broom Closet

and more! Ready to begin?

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

𝓒𝓸𝓻𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓹𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼:

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Animals:

Coyote

Blackbird

Owl

Goose

Stag

Squirrel

Wolf

Symbols:

Cornucopia

Pentagram

Herbs:

Rosemary

Safflower

Thyme

Rue

Rose Hips

Marigold

Saffron

Dried Apple

Oak Moss

Crystals:

Amber

Amethyst

Tiger’s Eye

Citrine

Garnet

Peridot

Yellow Topaz

Ruby

Decor:

Apples

Autumn Leaves

Acorns

Animal Bones

Sunflowers

Pine Cones

Gourds

Balance Scales

Harvest Foods

Pomegranates

Grape Vine

Themes:

Harvest

Gratitude

Balance

Reflection

Shadow Work

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓸𝓷 𝓡𝓲𝓽𝓾𝓪𝓵𝓼:

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

-Adorn your space with seasonal fruits and vegetables, such as pumpkins.

-Reflect on what the summer season revealed to you about yourself.

-Create an "I let go" list of things you wish to release from the summer.

-Simmer cinnamon to attract abundance.

-Establish your goals for the Fall season, which extends until December 21st.

-Ignite a candle and meditate to catch a glimpse of what the upcoming season holds.

-Tidy up and declutter your home, then pass a cinnamon broom for abundance.

-Indulge in a flavorful spiced tea or coffee. Savor each sip. Take a moment to reflect on your blessings and what you are grateful for.

-The Fall Equinox is on September 22nd at 9:04 pm (EST). Set a reminder and declare, "This season will be my best one yet."

-Trim your hair to release old energy.

-Recharge by visiting a pumpkin patch, farmers market, or spending time outdoors.

-Place an apple beside a coin for good luck and prosperity.

-Create a besom and utilize it to cleanse your home of negative energies.

-Create your own custom Mabon Incense mix.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

𝓜𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓷 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓶 𝓒𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓽

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

This list is for those witches who may still be in the closet. These activities can pass as “Autumnal Activities” to others! Here are some subtle yet enchanting ways to celebrate your craft:

Nature Walks: Collect leaves, acorns, and other natural items to use in your spells and crafts. It’s a great way to connect with nature and gather supplies without drawing attention.

Pumpkin Carving: Carve symbols or sigils into your pumpkins. Not only are they festive, but they can also serve as protection or intention-setting.

Candle Making: Create your own candles with herbs and essential oils. You can infuse them with specific intentions and use them for rituals later on.

Baking: Make seasonal treats like apple pie or pumpkin bread. Incorporate herbs and spices that have magical properties, such as cinnamon for prosperity or nutmeg for luck.

Herb Drying: Harvest and dry herbs for your witchy cabinet. Hang bundles of rosemary or lavender in your kitchen to dry; it looks like you're just readying them for cooking.

Gardening: Plant bulbs or prepare your garden for winter. This is a great way to work with the earth and practice your green-thumb magic.

Reading: Dive into books about folklore, mythology, or herbalism. It’s a cozy way to expand your knowledge and connect with ancient traditions. (Kindle has a phone app, if you cannot have physical books)

DIY Crafts: Make wreaths, potpourri, or sachets with found natural items. These can be used for decoration or as part of your magical practice.

Tea Time: Brew different herbal teas. Experiment with blends that have magical properties to set intentions or simply relax.

Moon Watching: Keep track of the moon phases and spend time outside during the full moon. This can be a meditative practice and a way to align with lunar energies.

By incorporating these activities into your routine, you can celebrate your witchy side while blending seamlessly into the autumnal festivities. Happy enchanting!

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

𝓜𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓐𝓹𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓼

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Apples are a common symbol of Mabon/Autumn Equinox for many pagans, wiccans, and witches. They can be incorporated into many different kinds of spell work for abundance, health, renewal, planting the seed of an idea/intention & knowledge. Apples can be used in magick by cutting them in half horizontally to reveal the star inside. Spell ingredients can then be sprinkled on top. Other ways of using apples is to dry then to decorate your altar or space with. You can gather apples to return to the Earth by burying them to give thanks for the Harvest. Cooking with apples is a perfect way to celebrate Mabon. Whether you make a warm apple pie, a spiced cider, or a savory apple stew, these dishes can be shared with loved ones to honor the season. The act of cooking itself becomes a ritual, infusing each dish with your intentions and gratitude.

Additionally, apples can be used in divination practices. By peeling an apple in a single strip and tossing the peel over your shoulder, the shape it forms when it lands can reveal the initial of a future partner or give you insight into a question you hold in your heart. Scrying with apple seeds is another method; by placing seeds on a hot surface and watching their movement, you can glean messages and guidance.

Incorporating apples into your daily routines during Mabon can also help you remain connected to the cycles of nature. Enjoying a fresh apple as a mindful snack, reflecting on its journey from blossom to fruit, can be a simple yet profound way to express appreciation for the Earth's bounty. Decorating your home with apple-themed items, such as candles, wreaths, or even apple-scented essential oils, can further enhance the seasonal ambiance.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓗𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 𝓸𝓯 𝓜𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓷

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Mabon, also known as the Autumn Equinox, is a significant festival in the Wheel of the Year, celebrated by many Pagans and Wiccans. The name "Mabon" itself is relatively modern, coined by Aidan Kelly in the 1970s, yet the festival's roots stretch back to ancient times. It marks the second of three harvest festivals, following Lammas and preceding Samhain. Occurring around September 21-23 in the Northern Hemisphere, Mabon represents a time of balance when day and night are of equal length. This event symbolizes the gradual descent into the darker half of the year, as the days grow shorter and the nights longer.

Historically, many cultures have celebrated the equinox with various customs and rituals. In ancient Greece, the festival of Eleusinia honored Demeter, the goddess of the harvest, and her daughter Persephone. The myth of Persephone's descent into the underworld and her eventual return is a powerful allegory for the changing seasons and the cycle of life and death. Similarly, in ancient Rome, the festival of Pomona celebrated the goddess of fruits and orchards, reflecting the importance of the harvest season. In the British Isles, the equinox was a time of thanksgiving and community gatherings, with people coming together to celebrate and share the bounty of the harvest.

Modern Mabon celebrations often involve giving thanks for the earth's abundance, reflecting on themes of balance and gratitude, and preparing for the coming winter months. Rituals may include offerings of fruits, vegetables, and grains, as well as meditative practices to honor the seasonal shift. Many contemporary Pagans and Wiccans also incorporate elements of ancient traditions, such as feasting, storytelling, and connecting with nature. Mabon serves as a reminder of the cyclical nature of life and the importance of living in harmony with the rhythms of the earth.

𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘔𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘴. 𝘉𝘺 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘺𝘮𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘩𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Thank you for Reading! I absolutely love sharing my knowledge & learnings with others. I try to make posts a few times a week! & they are all organized on my profile.

Until we cross paths once more! Best wishes to all you wonderful witches! Warm regards, Tea.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

For Support on my Blogs:

Facebook: The Black Dahlia Emporium

Tumblr: @ darkforestfae-tea

Pagans & Witches Amino @ darkforestfae

[isabellebissonrouthier]

OC ASK GAME: ORANGE

ORANGE - What is thair favourite food?

TANGERINE - Describe them!

CLEMENTINE - Do they have a pet?

APRICOT - Who are they to you, the creator? Are they your child, your beloved, your experiment, etc?

PEACH - Which traits are they most attracted to? Are they physical traits?

MARMALADE - Would they sacrifice their meal if someone else needed it?

CARROT - What do they usually eat?

HONEY - What is their silliest fear?

SYRUP - What's their best feature?

SPICE - Can they handle spice?

GINGER - What trait do they find most repulsive in a potential partner?

AMBER - If they didn't have their name, what would be your second choice?

BRONZE - What do they do when they lose? Do they lose often?

GOLD - Who would they sacrifice if they knew it would make them rich?

FIRE - How much do they know of their home's history? Is their knowledge right?

SPARK - What motivates them?

RUST - Have they been vaccinated?

SAND - Do they prefer hot or cold?

MARIGOLD - What flower is most like them? Is the flower anywhere in the wip?

TIGER - What do they fear?