#new shawls collection

[letissierdesigns]

Another Possible Class Project

[powerinsan]

Meditation Shawl or Blanket, Exotic Shawl/Wrap, Oversize Scarf or Stole, Unisex, Boho Scarf for Women, Lightweight, Floral Printed Scarf, Fall, Winter, Fashion, Fringed Shawl, Cashmere Stole, 100% Cashmere, Gorgeous & Natural, Extra Large Scarf, Wrap, Scarfs for Women, Fall, Winter, Scarves, Pashmina Shawls and Wraps for Evening Dresses,

Meditation Shawl or Blanket, Exotic Shawl/Wrap, Oversize Scarf or Stole, Unisex, Boho Scarf for Women, Lightweight, Floral Printed Scarf, Fall, Winter, Fashion, Fringed Shawl, Cashmere Stole, 100% Cashmere, Gorgeous & Natural, Extra Large Scarf, Wrap, Scarfs for Women, Fall, Winter, Scarves, Pashmina Shawls and Wraps for Evening Dresses, Beautiful meditation shawls. One for me and one for a…

[its-poojagupta-shree]

In the heart of the Himalayas, where the air is crisp and the landscapes are breathtaking, lies the source of one of the world's most exquisite fabrics - Pashmina. Renowned for its unparalleled softness, warmth, and luxurious feel, Pashmina has captivated the fashion world for centuries. In this comprehensive exploration, we dive into the artistry and craftsmanship behind Pashmina Kurtas, tracing the journey from the mountainous terrains to the elegant ensembles that grace runways and wardrobes worldwide.

[sapphire-writes]

The Hidden Daughter

pairing: Aemond x Baratheon!Reader request: hi love your work :) would love to request an aemond x baratheon reader-in which there is a 5th daughter that her father keeps hidden as she is his favorite she is shy at first but is smary and has fire. you can imagine aemonds surprise when he sees her patting and talking to vhagar. possessive aemond and smut please maybe on top of vhagar :) by @ivvypg note: LOVE some possessive Aemond, love this request! hope you enjoy 💚 warnings: possessiveness, SMUT, choking, smut is below the cut be warned it's dirty and on DRAGONBACK! word count: 1.6k masterlist

Aemond was presented with a feast when he arrived at Storm’s End. A feast, a tourney, and a melee for his honor. Along with being presented with Lord Borros’ four daughters; any of whom he would be allowed to claim for marriage. Little did he know, a fifth daughter lived within the walls of Storm’s End, not present during his arrival. 

You were Lord Borros' favorite. Your fire and free spirit reminded him so much of himself, he couldn’t bear the thought of being parted from you. You were his last child, his final daughter and he was not ready to give you up. Even to a prince. 

You were out picking flowers when the one-eyed prince arrived, something you did often to avoid the dreary halls of the castle. Your father allowed you to go as the prince arrived, hoping Aemond would choose which daughter he wished to wed immediately upon his arrival. Though it was raining, you wore a shawl that shielded you from the freezing drops. You found that a rainstorm was the best time to explore the edges of the woods, in search of new flora. 

While tracing the edge of the forest she was met with a monstrous roar. Snapping your head up, you dropped your basket as you came face to face with the oldest, largest dragon in the world. Your eyes widened as you looked upon Vhagar, lips parting in shock. Vhagar roared again, the sound shaking the ground beneath your feet. The very sky seemed to listen to Vhagar as the clouds let their rain stop. 

“You’re a wonderful beast, aren’t you?” you tell Vhagar, who roars again, shooting a stream of fire into the air above her. You laugh in surprise. 

“I have never seen a dragon before,” you tell her, and she looks at you as if understanding.

“I am not speaking your mother tongue, am I?” you say, pouting, “I am probably confusing you greatly, my apologies lady!” 

Vhagar lets out a high-pitched chirp, much like a large bird. You laugh again. 

“Do you like me?” you ask, taking a step closer. Vhagar roars again, a warning. You hold your hands open in surrender. 

“I won’t come closer if you wish,” you tell her, “but I may have something for you.”

You reach for your basket, picking underneath the flowers you collected. You had packed yourself lunch, a fresh meat pie, wrapped in cloth. You took it out, unwrapping it, the pastry still steaming. Vhagar lifted her nose, sniffing the air. Your face broke out in a smile. 

“Smells good?” you ask, and Vhagar chirps again. You walk a few feet closer placing the pie in front of her. You back up quickly as she lashes out, snatching the pie and a chunk of the earth into her gullet. 

“That could have been me!” you scold, and Vhagar makes a sound like a purring cat. 

“What are you doing?”

You jump back, the smile leaving your face at the arrival of the one-eyed prince, causing the hood of your cloak to fall back. Aemond assesses you before walking over to Vhagar patting her jaw as she continues to purr. 

“Your grace,” you choke, before curtseying. 

“Who are you?”

“Lady Y/N Baratheon, your grace.”

“Lord Borros assured me he had four daughters,” he told you, “he lied?”

“Yes, my prince,” you admit. You do not wish to betray your father, but know there is no other way out of the situation. You cannot lie to the prince.

“Why?”

“He wishes to keep me at Storm’s End.”

Aemond looks you up and down and looks at how Vhagar responds to you. He takes in your appearance, skirts muddied from trailing through the wildflower beds of the forest. You cross your arms as he examines you thoroughly with his one-seeing eye.

“That simply will not do,” he says, a smirk appearing on his face.

“What shall not do?” you ask, brows coming together. 

“Who is a lord to deny a prince?” he continues, walking over to you. You feel your breath coming in your pants. 

“Who would you wish to belong to, my lady?” he asks, placing a hand on your cheek, “your father or a prince who rides the largest, strongest dragon in the world?”

He is dangerously handsome, so much it steals the breath from your lungs. 

“I do not know, my prince. I prefer to belong to myself”

This causes Aemond to chuckle. 

“I shall make the decision easy for you. I choose you. Your father said I could have any of his daughters. He hid you from me, but not well enough.”

Aemond places a thumb on your lower lip, tugging it gently. Your eyes are wide as you gaze upon him. The look in his eyes is that of a man starved. 

“Do you wish to ride her?” he asks. Your eyes widen.

“Would you allow it?”

Aemond nods, ushering you toward the ropes that lead to Vhagar’s back. Vhagar’s large green eyes watch you as you begin your ascent. You are sure you can see the entirety of the Stormlands as you walk across her back. 

As Aemond climbs on behind you, he leads you to the saddle in the middle of her back. It looks almost comical, and you wonder how he is able to steer such a large dragon. He throws a leg over the saddle, sitting down. 

“You sit in front, my lady,” he tells you, patting the space in front of him, “to see the view.”

You do as you’re told, and Aemond speaks something in High Valyrian that makes Vhagar lift her large head, spread her wings and take to the skies. The wind blows through your hair and you cannot help the excited laugh that escapes your lips. 

What wondrous fun it must be to be a Targaryen. How freeing it must be to take to the skies whenever you want. Aemond’s hands tighten around your waist, causing heat to flood through your body. 

“This is amazing!” Aemond swallows your happy giggles with a kiss, as he turns your face towards him. His tongue opens your mouth to him and you moan, feeling a tingling sensation between your legs. 

He grabs your thighs, turning you around in the saddle to face him. You wrap your legs around his waist, pressing your clothed core into the hard bulge of his pants, gasping at the contact. He brings his hand between you, under your skirts, pulling at your small clothes. He lets a finger slide through your slick folds, teasing your sensitive clit. You jerk your hips at the stimulation. 

“Do you wish to give yourself to me?” he asks, kissing your lips once more, “let me make you my princess.”

You swallow, every nerve in your body singing with his words. Princess. Aemond Targaryen’s lady, his princess. 

“Yes,” you tell him, wetting your lips. He smiles triumphantly. 

He undoes his breeches, a well-endowed cock coming free. He tears away the remainder of your small clothes, lifting your hips over his. Your jaw slacks as you sink your cunt onto his hardened cock, sheathing him completely within your heat. He lets you set the pace at first, one hand still holding the reins of Vhagar. Your cunt feels magical, hot, and pulsating around him with every stroke. 

You bounce slightly on his cock, the soft moans pouring from your mouth music to Aemond’s ears. The exposed tops of your breasts jiggle with every bounce and Aemond buries his face between them, placing wet kisses on the soft flesh. 

He soon grows impatient with your pace, bringing his hands to your waist lifting you up, and slamming you down on his cock. The new ferocity makes you cry out, causing Aemond to smile wickedly. 

“Scream as loud as you need, my lady,” he says, voice rough, “let them hear you from the skies.”

You do as you’re told, obscene moans leaving your mouth as he continues to guide you on his cock. You dig your hands into his shoulders, using the leverage to aid him, rotating your hips at a desperate pace as your pleasure builds. Aemond brings one of his hands-free, snaking it up the front of your gown until it comfortably wraps around your throat. 

“Tell me you’re mine,” he growls and you whimper, “say it.”

“I am yours,” you moan, throwing your head back, and wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“No one else's.”

“No one, only yours,” you promise him, continuing to bounce on his length, wet noises filling the open air. 

“Your father could never keep you from me,” he says, squeezing his hand just enough, you feel deliciously light-headed, “you were made for me and me alone.”

“Yes, just for you,” you cry. Aemond drops his hand between you both, rubbing circles on the bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. 

“Cum for me,” he demands, “give your pleasure to me.” 

You do as he commands, and with a final scream, you fall apart around him. Your limbs turn to jelly as you feel him release within you, sheathed so deeply within you, you feel him pressed against the entrance of your womb. 

“He shan’t keep you from me,” Aemond says breathlessly, grabbing your face and pressing a searing kiss to your lips. 

“I shall fuck you full of my children,” he promises, “silver babes created in the skies.”

You nod furiously, drunk with pleasure, wanting only to please him.

“You would like that wouldn’t you?” he croons, noticing your cock dumb expression. You feel his cock within you twitch, becoming hard once more. 

“Yes,” you whimper, clinging to him as though he is the only thing keeping you secure to Vhagar’s back. He bites his lip, a growl emitting from deep within his chest.

He lifts his hips, thrusting up into you once more.

“Then let us continue, my lady.”

[not-your-asian-fantasy]

The Juggernaut

Barbie’s new Diwali doll has sold out in less than four days.

The $40 doll by Indian fashion designer Anita Dongre came out October 4. Though Barbie has released “Indian” dolls before, this is its first Diwali Barbie.

“In a continued commitment to promoting celebrations of heritage, Barbie is unveiling its first Barbie Diwali doll,” Mattel wrote in a news release. “The Barbie Diwali doll celebrates India’s cultural richness with a worldwide audience.”

Diwali Barbie sports a dark blue Anita Dongre lehenga, golden bangles and jhumka, high heels, and a ponytail. She has no backstory.

Dongre told USA Today that designing the look took over a year. She first envisioned the doll having several outfits. “I wanted to have an entire collection,” she told USA Today. “Should it be a lehenga? Should it be a sari? Should it be a sharara? There’s so much one can do. Indian fashion is just so versatile.”

“This Moonlight Bloom look features a choli top, floral koti vest, and lehenga skirt lush with dahlias, jasmine, and Indian lotus, representing strength and beauty,” Mattel’s site reads. Though note: “The doll comes with a stand…Doll cannot stand alone.”

Last year, American Girl also got in on the Indian American market, America’s fastest-growing and richest demographic. It launched Kavi, a doll who loves Broadway, has a Western and Indian wardrobe, and celebrates Diwali and Holi.

Despite its 2023 blockbuster movie, #Barbie has long faced flak for shaping perceptions of what women should look like.

In 1996, Mattel created its first melanated doll for Indians. She had the same physique as white Barbie and wore a bindi. Yet, the box labeled her pink sari as a two-piece outfit with an optional shawl and noted that Indians don’t use utensils to eat. As Sadaf Ahsan wrote for The Juggernaut: “If you aren’t blonde and blue-eyed, life in plastic isn’t fantastic.”

[skeletondeerart]

Sacred Waters, Sacred Hearts Chapter 1

A Male OC! Metkayina x Fem Human! Reader | Word Count: 1722

Masterlist & join the taglist

A/N : Both Rukan and reader are in their mid 20's

" " = direct speech | ' ' = Metkayina sign language | Bold = English

Another night approaches as multiple moons emerge from the waves. I adjust my mask, ensuring it's sealed to my cheeks, as I shuffle off my light shawl, leaving just my wetsuit and waterproof tablet. The morning winds nip at my exposed skin, and I make haste into the reef, gracefully submerging myself and diving down to the reef bed to escape the chill of the evening.

I was one of the last marine biologists left on Pandora after the fall of the Omatikaya's Hometree, yet by the grace of Eywa I was taken into her embrace and was allowed to live amongst the flora and fauna. I now reside on the coastline a couple hours from the Metkayina settlements; respecting the ocean-dwelling Navi immensely, I made sure to leave them alone and stay in my small corner of the ocean; content with just researching and documenting the underwater flora and fauna. Though I may seem isolated here on my lonesome I do make frequent calls to Norm and Max to update their data files, ordering human supplies or just for a chat yet sometimes I yearn for someone else to share my experiences with...

Weaving through bioluminescent kelp, flippers boost me through the currents I glide to a halt and unsheathe my switchblade to harvest some vegetation and check on the coral's health. Happy with the healthy flora and the harvest I document photos for my log and bask in the temperate waters. I smile at the stillness from the ocean bed, turning onto my back and gazing up through the water's surface, mesmerised by the reflection of light shimmering across the lapping waves from below.

Eventually, my lungs begin to burn yearning for oxygen, and I move to breach the surface, breaking the water tension my mask immediately intakes the Pandoran air and swiftly converts it to plain oxygen. As I catch my breath, I watch Ilu ride the waves and birds dive into the ocean to nab up small fish for their dinner. My stomach rumbles at the through and my mind drifts back to the edible vegetation in my pouch, I paddle back to shore and squeeze the water from my hair before I begin stoking a fire to roast my own dinner.

Time gets away from me as I continue to do tasks onshore like chopping wood and transferring files into the databank. My thoughts are disturbed by a shrill ring, Norm's contact blaring from my tablet. I quickly accept it as Norm appears on the screen; giving a curt wave before he started speaking.

"Hey (Y/n), how are you? Hope I didn't catch you at a bad time, but I have a favour to ask." He rambles, arms gesturing awkwardly.

"Uh, nah I'm not doing much; how can I help ya Norm?" I say absent-mindedly as I continue weaving a new blanket, preparing for the cooler weather.

"Mo'at needs some specific medicinal herbs, but they can only be found in the deeper parts of the reef bed. Considering you're now quite an adept diver I thought to ask you first before connecting with the Metkayina traders."

"Oh yeah no problem, I'll duck out in a moment and get that heading your way no problem" I smile as I stand to pull my wetsuit back on from its drying rack.

Norm rubs his nape and bows his head in gratitude "I can't thank you enough (Y/n) just text me when you're done so I can send someone out there to collect the goods"

"Easy, I'll get back to you soon, but if you don't hear back by tomorrow afternoon assume I drowned" I laugh in jest.

I watch as Norm scrunches his face in horror "Don't make me come over there for a welfare check buddy, because I will! I swear it." Norm sighs exasperated by my words wagging his finger to the camera.

"Oh, I'm just kidding Normie; have some faith in me will ya." I giggle as I slip the thick fabric up my torso, Navi stripes adorn the fabric, mimicking the Metkayina's camouflage.

"How many times have I asked you to quit it with the 'Normie'…" Norm scolds but it holds no venom at all. "Look, you better update me straight away ok! I got to go; Max needs some help in the lab, see ya (Y/n)." He waves and disconnects as I wave goodbye myself.

I release a sigh as I take a final note of all the things I need and make sure my mask is free from damage as I set out. I walk out of the airlock to the edge of the mangroves and leap into the deeper portion, my vision is hindered by a myriad of bubbles for a moment before settling down, I begin the descent into the sandbank, I had no need for a flashlight due to the high concentration of bioluminescence, I glide through the waters and corals with ease and gradually letting some oxygen in through my air tank, I only used it for longer expeditions as I like to train my lung capacity.

I swim further from my base, lowering my altitude as I dive into a stunning deep cave. I spotted the herbs; it looked like sea moss; excellent in curing skin ailments when ground into a salve. I push faster through the currents and into the jagged coral formation that the moss grew on, not seeing the signature Metkayina markers for a protected area... I peeled it from its roots and placed it into a leather pouch, deeming it enough I turned to make my way back out, but I was stunned into silence as a massive shadow passed by the gaps in the coral.

It was an Akula…a massive shark-like beast who not even the Navi deem as a friend. My lungs constricted as I limited agitating the water around me. I waited with bated breath as the Akula swam circles around the exit, I peered timidly out as I no longer detect its presence. So, I make the decision to slowly rise to the entrance of the cave. I make the dash, but the Akula notices the disruption and flings itself in my direction, a terrified gargle escapes my throat as I weave hastily through the outcrops narrowly avoiding its snapping jaws.

In my adrenaline-fueled state, I didn't notice another join the fray. Until a muffled roar is heard from the Akula as it flees back deeper into the cave system. I burrow myself into the coral hiding from my painful death as I go to release more oxygen into my mask, my hands fumble with a pierced tube and my eyes widen in realisation.

My oxygen supply is drained and I'm so far from the surface.

My panic only spikes further as piercing blue eyes peer down at me cuddled up in the coral like a child.

It was a Metkayina patroller, he was mounted on an Ilu as he scowled in my direction, his rapid signing not going unnoticed.

I gingerly raise my hand and sign 'I mean no harm. I'm with the Omaticaya, gathering medicinal herbs for our injured, but can you help me to the surface I need to breathe…'

He shook his head frustrated but for a moment I could see the disbelief in his eyes at my fluency. 'You do not belong here tawtute, let alone in a protected area, go back to the forest.' But his eyes soften when he sees me start to go blue, my eyes pleading as I point to the surface. He sighs exasperated as he snatches my arm and hauls me into his chest atop his Ilu, jetting to the surface. My vision gets splotchy as we break the water, my mask luckily taking in the air again with no issue.

As I fill my strained lungs again, I'm abruptly shoved off the Ilu and dunk under momentarily pouting as I surface and gazing up at the Navi with a smug look on his face. He points his finger at me.

"Do not touch tawtute, it is a protected site and you're too close to the village" he states, shaking his head. "Go" He states his finned arm pointing back to shore.

"Sorry I didn't see the marker, I'll stay away, promise." I put up my pinky finger momentarily before realising he wouldn't know what it meant. He leans back, a hairless brow raising in suspicion.

"Silly tawtute…" He mutters under his breath before urging again "I'll accompany you home just to make sure that Akula leaves you be. I don't want your pitiful death on my conscience." He states "But you're swimming yourself…"

I laugh "Fine by me" I say before setting back on course. I paddle on the water's surface beside the Metkayina on his Ilu, swimming in silence for most of the way. I'm broken out of my thoughts as his words pierce the silence.

"What are those on your feet…" He questioned, with an ounce of curiosity evident in his tone. I gaze back for a moment checking for any foreign matter.

"Flippers. Helps me swim faster and easier, kind of how your feet and tail help you through the water." I say casually, lifting one from the water to flaunt it with a smile, his face scrunching up as water flicks him in the face.

"I see…" His words were cut short as my home was spotted over the water. Nestled into the mangroves and covered in my hand-woven cloths and netting.

"Well, here's my stop" I sigh as I pull myself up into the mangroves and onto the net platforming.

A curious hum leaves his throat as he gazes at my abode. "Looks somewhat like our villages… yet so tawtute." He mumbles scratching at his nape.

Honestly, over the past hour, I have grown fondness for this Navi. I can't help but blurt out "(Y/n)." His eyes shoot to me confused. "My name… it's uh (Y/n)" I state my cheeks flushing.

"(Y/n)…" He takes a moment letting my name digest "Rukan…" he replies before abruptly diving on his Ilu and swimming off in the direction of the village.

"Rukan…. What a nice name" I smile before heading inside to preserve the moss and notifying Norm of a successful expedition.

Enjoy the next chapter in my Masterlist! & join the taglist

[haveamagicalday]

Duel of the American Girl Dolls: Winners!

Elizabeth Cole's best outfit is : Riding Outfit

Cecile Ray's best outfit is: Meeting Outfit

Marie-Grace Gardner's best outfit is: Summer Dress

Caroline Abbott's best outfit is: Winter Coat

Nicki Hoffman's best outfit is: Red Vinyl Jumper

Isabel Hoffman's best outfit is: Year 2000 Outfit

Ruthie Smithens best outfit is: Play Outfit

Nellie O'Malley's best outfit is: Spring Party Dress

Claudie Wells best outfit is: Meeting Outfit

Courtney Moore’s best outfit is: Meeting Outfit

Emily Bennet's best outfit is: Meeting Outfit

Felicity Merriman's best outfit is: Riding Hat and Habit

Kaya's best outfit is: Pow Wow Dress

Josefina Montoya's best outfit is: Weaving Outfit

Kirsten Larson's best outfit is: Checked Dress and Shawl

Nanea Mitchell's best outfit is: Holoku Outfit

Maryellen Larkin's best outfit is: Poodle Skirt

Melody Ellison's best outfit is: Birthday Outfit

Rebecca Rubin's best outfit is: Meeting Outfit

Samantha Parkington's best oufit is: Plaid Cape and Gaiters

Molly McIntire's best outfit is: After School Party

Addy Walker's best outfit is: Tartan Plaid Dress

Kit Kittredge's best outfit is: Overalls

Julie Albright's best outfit is: Calico Dress

Ivy Ling's best outfit is: Chinese New Year Outfit

The best Truly Me Cute Dress is: Red Jumper

The best Truly Me Exploration outfit is: World Traveler in Ireland

The best collector doll is: Shimmering Silver

The best American Boy doll outfit is: Tartan Plaid Outfit

The best World by Us/Mordern Girl outfit is: Evette's Meeting Outfit

The best Truly Me Fun and Hobbies outfit is: Christmas Recital

The best Truly Me Beach Wear outfit is: Beach Outfit

The best Birthstone Collection outfit is: September Sparkling Sapphire

The best Truly Me costume is: Medival Princess

The best Girl of the Year outfit is: Kavi's Bollywood Outfit

The best Truly Me dance outfit is: Ruby Ballet

The best Truly Me winter wear is: Sugar Plum Coat

The best Truly Me casual outfit is: Plaid Skirt and Sweater

The best Truly Me bed time outfit is: Penguin and Robe

The best Truly Me sports outfit is: Ice Dancer Outfit

The best Truly Me holiday outfit is: Diwali Celebration Outfit

[sanctus-ingenium]

heya! I'm wondering, from where do you reference clothing for your art pieces? (Specifically for Inver!) I enjoy the outfits you draw your characters in

hii so for the fancier victorian-era outfits i used a whole bunch of sources but among them the metropolitan museum costume collection, this is a great online gallery of historical costume that you can search by era. you can also find illustrated fashion plates from the era to get a sense of how people styled the outfits, facial hair, accessories etc. here's one for hats i used. i also followed the twitter account WikiVictorian which.. due to new twitter policies you can't view accounts while not logged in, but it looks like they have a pinterest and also instagram?? anyway great resource, posted a lot of dresses, furniture, and historical recipes with sources & context.

(cut for length)

but those dresses and stuff are for the upper classes. For ordinary people i just googled what I knew every old lady wears: shawls

this is a galway shawl which is like. THE thing every single person wore back in the day and if you check out the wiki page it's a great reference for what patterns & dyes would have been used. from there you can find historical photos. i love photos like this which show a whole scene in context with people from multiple generations hanging out (yooo check out the Sparch in the background!!). now I know this isn't 1860s stuff, but the fact is that fashion doesn't move so fast for people like Clarion who live on a farm and have to make their simple clothing items last for a lifetime or more.

for the military outfits I mainly just googled 'military outfit 1860s' and iterated (groundbreaking). for things to be accurate i tried to pick reference illustrations drawn during the era.

i figure you might mean specifically the ancient Inver stuff so for them I used a lot of old illustrations and stuff from art history class in school. this era is more in the region of the 1500s. here is a kind of kitchy site which nonetheless has real-life examples of some of the clothing i drew. this painting is in my list of references (sorry for the stock image link but it's one of the nicest online reproductions of it) and you can see the guys on the right wearing the same léine that i've drawn Finbarr in. once you know the time period & what the various outfit components are called you can search them more easily. now the headdress i've drawn Finbarr wearing (Olivier wears it as well!) is in fact a real thing, it's the Petrie crown broken in half.

the crown is not of the same era as the other outfits because i'm not so interested in historical accuracy as much for these guys (booo).

for Olivier I searched for old French armour from the same historic era as Finbarr, I know less about the history of Brittany so kind of just copied what I saw with some small alterations (because he wears werewolf armour, which is not a thing irl).

[specialagentartemis]

Black Women writing SFF

The post about Octavia Butler also made me think about the injustice we do both Butler, SFF readers, and Black women SFF writers by holding her up as the one Black Woman Writing Sci-Fi. She occupies an important place in the genre, for her creativity, the beauty and impact of her writing, and her prolific work... but she's still just one writer, and no one writer works for everybody.

So whether you liked Octavia Butler's books or didn't, here are some of the (many!!! this list is just the authors I've read and liked, or been recommended and been wanting to read) other Black women writing speculative fiction aimed at adults, who might be writing something within your interest:

N. K. Jemisin - a prolific powerhouse of modern sff. Will probably have something you'll like. Won three Hugo awards in a row for her Broken Earth trilogy. I’ve only read her book of short stories, How Long ‘Til Black Future Month? and it is absolutely story after story of bangers. Creative, chilling, beautifully written, make you think. They’re so good and I highly recommend the collection. Several of her novels have spun out of premises she first explored through these short stories, most recently “The City Born Great” giving rise to her novel The City We Became. Leans more fantasy than sci-fi, but has a lot of both, in various permutations. 

Nisi Shawl - EDIT: I have been informed that Nisi Shawl identifies as genderfluid, not as a woman. They primarily write short stories that lean literary. Their one novel that I’ve read, Everfair, is an alternate-history 19th century that asks, what if the Congo had fought off European colonization and became a free and independent African state? Told in vignettes spanning decades of political organization, political movements, war tactics, and social development, among an ensemble of local African people, Black Americans coming to the new country, white and mixed-race Brits, and Chinese immigrants who came as British laborers.

Nnedi Okorafor - American-Nigerian writer of Africanfuturism, sci-fi stories emphasizing life in present, future, and alternate-magical Africa. She has range! From Binti, a trilogy of novellas about a teenage girl in Namibia encountering aliens and balancing her newfound connection to space with expectations of her family; to Akata Witch, a middle-grade series about a Nigerian-American girl moving to Nigeria and learning to use magic powers she didn’t know she had; to Who Fears Death, a brutal depiction of magical-realism in a futuristic, post-war Sudan; to short stories like "Africanfuturism 419", about that poor Nigerian prince who’s desperately sending out those emails looking for help (but with a sci-fi twist), and "Mother of Invention" about a smart house taking care of its human and her baby… she’s done a little bit of everything, but always emphasizes the future, the science, and the magic of (usually western) Africa.

Karen Lord - an Afro-Caribbean author.  I actually didn’t particularly like the one novel by her I’ve read, The Best of All Possible Worlds, but Martha Wells did, so. Lord has more novels set in this world—a Star Trek-esque multicultural, multispecies spacefuture set on a planet that has welcomed immigrants and refugees for a long time, and become a vibrant multicultural planet. I find her stories rooted in near-future Caribbean socio-climatic concerns like "Haven" and "Cities of the Sun" and her folktale-fantasy style Redemption in Indigo more compelling.  And more short stories here.

Bethany C. Morrow - only has one novella (short novel?) for adults, Mem, but it was creative and fascinating and good and I’d be remiss not to shout it out. In an alternate-history 1920s Toronto, scientists have discovered how to extract specific memories from a person—but then those memories are embodied as physical, cloned manifestations of the person at the moment the memory was made. The main character is one such “Mem,” struggling to determine who she is if she was created from and defined by one single traumatic memory that her original-self wanted to remove. It’s mostly quiet, contemplative, and very interesting.  (Morrow has some YA novels too. I read one of them and thought it was okay.)

Rebecca Roanhorse - Afro-Indigenous, Black and "Spanish Indian" and married into Diné (Navajo). I’ve read her ongoing post-apocalyptic fantasy series starting with Trail of Lightning, and am liking it a lot; after a climate catastrophe, the spirits and magic of the Diné awakened to protect Dinetah (the Navajo Nation) from the onslaught; and now magic and monsters are part of life in this fundamentally changed world. Coyote is there and he is only sometimes helpful. She also has a more traditional second-world epic high fantasy, Black Sun, an elaborate fantasy world with quests and prophecies and seafaring adventure that draws inspiration from Indigenous cultures of the US and Mexico rather than Europe. She also has bitingly satirical and very incisive short stories like “Welcome to Your Authentic Indian Experience” about virtual reality and cultural tourism, and the fantasy-horror "Harvest."

Micaiah Johnson - her multiverse-hopping novel The Space Between Worlds plays with alternate universes and alternate selves in a continuously creative and interesting way! The setup doesn’t take the easy premise that one universe is our own recognizable one that opens up onto strange alternate universes—even the main character’s home universe is wildly different in speculative ways, with the MC coming from a Mad Max-esque desert community abandoned to the elements, while working for the universe-travel company within the climate-controlled walled city where the rich and well-connected live and work. Also, it’s unabashedly gay. 

And if you like audiobooks and audio fiction (I listened to The Space Between Worlds as an audiobook, it’s good), then Jordan Cobb is someone you should check out. She does sci-fi/horror/thriller audio drama. Her works include Janus Descending, a lyrical and eerie sci-fi horror about a small research expedition to a distant planet and how it went so, so wrong; and Descendants, the sequel about its aftermath. She also has Primordial Deep, about a research expedition to the deep undersea, to investigate the apparent re-emergence of a lot of extinct prehistoric sea creatures. She’s a writer/producer I like, and always follow her new releases. Her detailed prose, minimal casts  (especially in Janus Descending), good audio quality, and full-series supercuts make these welcoming to audiobook fans. 

-

Nalo Hopkinson - a writer who should be considered nearly as foundational as Octavia Butler, honestly. A novelist and short story writer with a wide variety of sci-fi, dystopian futures, fairy-tale horror, gods and epics, and space Carnival, drawing heavily from her Caribbean experiences and aesthetics.

Tananarive Due - fantastical/horror. Immortals, vampires, curses, altered reality, unnerving mystery. Also has written a lot of books.

Andrea Hairston - creative and otherworldly, weird and bisexual, with mindscapes and magic and aliens. 

Helen Oyeyemi - I haven’t read her work but she comes highly recommended by a friend. A novelist and short story writer, most of her work leans fairytale fantastical-horror. What Is Not Yours Is Not Yours is a collection of short fiction and recc’ed to me as her best work. White is for Witching is a well-regarded haunted house novel. 

Ashia Monet - indie author, writer of The Black Veins, pitched as “the no-love-interest, found family adventure you’ve been searching for.” Magic road trip! Possibly YA? I’m not positive. 

-

This also doesn’t include Black non-binary sff authors I’ve read and liked like An Owomoyela, C. L. Polk, and Rivers Solomon. And this is specifically about adult sff books, so I didn’t include Black women YA sff authors like Kalynn Bayron, Tomi Adeyemi, Tracy Deonn, Justina Ireland, or Alechia Dow, though they’re writing fantasy and sci-fi in the YA world too.

And a lot of short stories are out there in the online magazine world, where so many up and coming authors get their start, and established ones explore offbeat and new ideas.  Pick up an issue (or a subscription!) of FIYAH magazine for the most current Black speculative writing.

[literatooru]

pairing: gn!reader x miya osamu

flufftober 2024!

Divination has never been Osamu’s favorite class. He always finds himself feeling drowsy; and whether it's because of how it seems to make the hours dreadfully drag on and on, or because of how the professor’s voice mixed with the heavily perfumed smoke that wafts all around the slightly claustrophobic room, he’s not sure.

He had only chosen it because it was easy to fool the professor by making up “predictions” of the future, as long as a tragedy or two (or five) were added. But by Merlin, sometimes he wonders if he should have picked Arithmancy or Study of Ancient runes to at least keep his brain a little more active. He’s also unsure as to why it’s even taught at all, considered that, at best, it’s viewed as a flawed and feeble “art” by most. He thinks it’s more of a fraud.

The only perk he could think of was that at least he got to spend an hour (or two, if he was lucky and had double period) with you.

Osamu heaves a sigh as he climbs the silvery ladder and looks around the crammed classroom. He blinks a couple times to adjust his eyesight to the new, crimson lighting, the corners of his lips automatically quirking up when his eyes finally land on you.

He makes his way to you, evading the dozens of small, circular tables filling the classroom. Once he reaches you, he lets the strap of his bag slide down his arm and it lands on the rug with a muted thud, then sinks onto the little round ottoman right across from yours.

“D’ya think she’s gonna make us continue the dream diary?” he says as a greeting.

You rest your chin on the palm of your hand as you let out a groan. The classroom slowly starts filling up with students, all of them disrupting the silence with animated chatter.

“I hope not. I barely managed to make up enough of them last year,” you mumble, blinking slowly as drowsiness immediately starts taking over you. “I wish we could open a window. It’s so stuffy in here.”

“Psh, ya really wanna disrupt yer Sight like that?” he says with humor.

Osamu busies himself pulling out his textbooks, dropping the heavy tomes on the table with a small huff and rolling his shoulder where his bag had been slung over.

“Ah! My darlings! I could sense you had all finally arrived,” Professor Trelawney speaks in that typical misty tone of hers, rearranging her shawl delicately. “Welcome, welcome. Oh, no need for those today, my dear,” she says, gesturing at a student that had just pulled out one of his textbooks. Osamu purses his lips and carelessly drops his own books into his bag. “I am aware that everyone’s minds seem to get rather foggy after a prolonged break."

“All the incense does a rather fine job as well,” your friend mutters under his breath, and his smile grows when you stifle a chuckle behind your hand.

"I myself make sure to exercise my Inner Eye as often as I can,” the Professor continues. She pushes her large glasses further up the bridge of her nose, sniffing softly as she walks among the tables.

“We shall make a revision of the subjects we’ve previously touched, starting with the basics, just as a refresher. Pass me the large silver teapot, dearie."

A girl stands up from her seat to do as told as Professor Trelawney runs her eyes across the various shelves, grabbing a couple different things off them. “Now, everyone please collect a teacup from the shelf. I will fill it for you.”

Osamu and you stand up from your seats and walk towards the shelves, waiting in line to grab a cup.

“Hold on, I got it,” he tells you. He walks through the crowd, mumbling apologies as he gently nudges people aside, and he takes advantage of his height by reaching out to take two of the teacups and saucers from the top shelf. After that, he makes his way back to you and offers you the delicate china with a warm smile.

“Thank you, giraffe,” you say with a smile of your own.

“I presume you all remember how this goes. Really, the process is fairly simple,” the Professor says. She pours tea into the teacups that are extended to her. “Of course, reading the leaves is the complicated part. Only those that possess the Sight, such as myself—”

Her voice is drowned under the chatter as you and Osamu go back to your table and take a seat. You blow lightly on the scalding liquid, dark ripples disturbing the surface.

Osamu moves the teacup to his lips, gently places the rim against them, takes a small sip and immediately frowns.

“Oof!” he exclaims. His whole face soon scrunches up into a grimace as he takes a second sip without even waiting for it to cool down. “It could do with a little sugar.” 

“More than a little.” You nod, coughing a little after taking the first sip. “I wish we could do this with butterbeer instead.”

“Man, what I wouldn’t do for one right now. It’s getting chilly.”

Once you both finally manage to down the bitter beverage, you each swill the remaining dregs around the cups three times with your left hand, then turn them upside down on the saucers and wait for the last of the tea to drain away before exchanging cups.

You reach into your bag to pull out your old copy of Unfogging the Future (which you had casted Reducio on to decrease its size until it matched that of a small dictionary’s) and place it on the table, flicking through the pages as you examine Osamu’s teacup.

“All right, hit me, partner. Exactly how many tragedies are in store for me?”

You roll your eyes with humor, shaking your head softly as you peer into his teacup. 

“I see… a…” You squint your eyes and frown as you try to make out exactly what the shapes are supposed to depict. “An umbrella. According to what the book says it means ‘difficulties’. And I think that’s— an apple? No, wait, it looks more like a butterfly,” you mumble, rotating the cup and craning your neck with your lips pursed. Osamu snorts, earning a glare from you before you shift your gaze to consult your book. “Which means… success. And that over there could be a crescent moon, which means… prosperity. So I guess you’re going to struggle with something you’re working on but end up successful, and that’s going to bring you good things."

“I don’t think you’ve exercised yer Inner Eye much, have ya?” Osamu says with an arched eyebrow, and his index finger pressed against his lips to suppress a smile.

You scoff. Your eyes remain on him as you set the teacup down, then mimic his cocked brow and lean forward, closer to him. 

“So you’re an expert now?” you ask.

You drum your fingers on the surface of the table as you watch his smile grow, and it’s almost infuriating how pretty he looks. The corners of his eyes crinkle, and his entire face seems to light up, his eyes glued on you as he gives a sharp nod. Is it just you feeling a little lighter? Perhaps all the smoke and incense have finally gotten to you.

“‘Course. I have an innate ability for divination. M'great, great, great, great aunt was a renowned Seer. She used to read Tarot Cards for the Queen herself.”

You throw your head back with laughter, the sound filling Osamu’s ears and making him feel warm and fuzzy inside. He knows it’s not the environment he’s in—it’s because of you.

“Right, sure. Go on then.” You grab your teacup from the saucer and offer it to him, a look full of expectation on your face. “Tell me what the future holds for me, O' great Seer.”

Osamu huffs out a chuckle. When he reaches out to grab the teacup, his fingers accidentally brush yours. You jerk your hand back and he clears his throat. He stands up from his ottoman and walks over to you, halting once he’s right by your side. Osamu leans down, rests his elbows on the table and gets closer to make sure you can see the inside of the cup as well.

His arm brushes yours every time he moves it, and you you can’t help glancing at him every now and then. How have you never noticed he has such a pretty profile? Well, to be completely honest, his entire face is pretty. It’s just that you’ve somehow only just paid close attention to it. He takes a quick peek at you and smiles when he catches your eyes on him, making you immediately avert your gaze and lean forward so much that your nose is almost touching the teacup.

Osamu chews on the inside of his cheek. You’re so… adorable.

“See that, right there?” he asks quietly, index finger stretched out to point at what looks like… a dark blob. You shoot him a concerned, sideways glance, absolutely confused as to what he’s seeing. “That’s a hat. Means Improvement, if I recall correctly. And a sun and horseshoe right text to it! That means such improvement will also bring you great fortune and happiness.” He cocks his head to the side, his breath mingling with yours due to the closeness. His voice drops in volume, almost forcing you to get even closer to him—close enough that he can smell your perfume over the smokiness of the room. And it just smells so good that he has to stop himself from taking a very obvious deep breath. “A pumpkin…” he carries on, forcing himself to focus on the dregs rather than you. “A circle… huh.”

“What?” you murmur. 

You had actually been so focused on his words that when you turn your face to look at him, you start when you find him so close to you. You feel warmth creep up your neck, and—yep, it’s definitely not due to the ambiance of the Divination classroom.

“It’s a good cup,” Osamu declares, tapping the rim with his index finger. He sets it back down on the saucer and places his left hand on the table, his right one moving to rest on his hip as he looks down at you, lips pursed as he seems to mull something over. “Maybe I should just pop the question then.”

“What are you talking ab—”

“Go out with me,” Osamu interrupts you.

You blink up at him once, twice; suddenly feeling so very grateful that you’re sitting down. You mouth wordlessly at Osamu, then blink once more.

“That’s not a question,” you manage blurt out when you finally find your voice. You’re not sure whether you should slap yourself or punch yourself in the face. Both options sound appropriate for the situation. Osamu Miya has just asked you out on a date and there you are, making a fool of yourself.

To your surprise (and relief), Samu smiles.

“Will you go out with me?”

You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, reaching for your discarded teacup and fiddling with it for a second just to keep your hands busy.

“I don’t know. What are you thinking?”

“That you will if you say yeah.” He adds a cheeky smile to his retort, earning a snort from you.

Smartass.

“And what if I say no?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Well, you can’t say no.”

“Why not?” You force a frown onto your face, if anything to conceal the nervousness threatening to take over you.

“Because, my dearie,” he begins, mimicking Professor Trelawney’s misty voice as he yanks the teacup from your hands and waves it in front of your face, “it’s written in the tea leaves.”

This time, the laugh that bubbles out of you is so genuinely filled with good humor that Osamu can’t help the smile that almost splits his face in two. Merlin’s Beard, he loves that sound. He’s willing to make himself look like an absolute idiot if it means getting to hear it again and being the reason for it.

“is it, now?” you say through your chuckling. “I didn’t see anything like that in my cup.”

“Because you don’t possess the Sight, unlike me,” Osamu retorts, tapping his index finger right between your eyebrows gently. “If you had broadened yer mind and casted yerself into the future, you’d know it. I saw it with my own two eyes— er… three?”

“You’re such an idiot, you know that, Samu?”

“A lucky idiot, I hope?” he says leaning forward a bit. “The Three Broomsticks, Friday night. You, me, and a couple of Butterbeers. I’ll wait for you outside your Common Room.”

And there it is, the smile he’s found himself longing for more times than he can count and that you’re convinces makes you like like an absolute idiot.

“It’s a date.”

[yaltghoul]

The timeline for Season 3 Part 1 has been bothering me all month, so I broke it down the best I can and guys, maybe I’m just stupid, but this is more rushed than I originally thought.

Let’s break it down.

SPOILERS BELOW:

So Colin comes back the day of the Debutante's Presentation. Presumably, that day or the next Penelope goes to Madame Delacroix to ask for a new wardrobe.

Now, in reality, a new wardrobe for a full Social Season would have included at least 10 simple dresses and 10 elaborate gowns, as well as gloves, bonnets, and shawls. A modiste with no or little assistants could, with no distractions, sew 10 dresses in a month, 10 gowns in about 3 months, and an additional 2 weeks for the accessories. Add in consultations (like the one we saw), design time, and fittings, and you are looking at approximately 4-6 months.

But we are not looking at reality, we are looking at Bridgerton, and we know that the time between when she consulted Madame Delacroix and the glow-up was the same time as the Debutante’s Presentation to the Queen and Lady Danbury’s ball.

Lady Danbury stated that her ball was the first of the season, which was usually held a few days to a week after Presentations. Let’s say, for the sake of giving the timeline the benefit of the doubt, that Lady Danbury needed as much time as possible to prepare for such an elaborate ball (and that Madame Delacroix is a superhuman who can sew a full wardrobe in a matter of days), let’s put that at a week.

We know Colin visited Pen the very next day to apologize, especially since the previous night’s Whistledown was published right after.

We also know Lady Whisteldown publishes Mondays, Wednesday, and Fridays, and from their conversation it can be alluded to that there was no second Whistledown column between the one where she called Colin fake and their first lesson. Meaning their first lesson was the next day.

For the sake of, again, giving the timeline the benefit of the doubt, let’s say the second lesson where we learn their Meet Cute story was two days later, and that she read the diary during their next lesson two days after that.

That puts the ball where it’s exposed that Colin is helping Pen as happening that night, and The Kiss the following day after Whistledown’s column talked about it.

The next episode Portia comments that Penelope locked herself away for a week. So her conversation with Eloise was a week after The Kiss.

Since her hair and outfit is different, I’m going to assume the Willow Tree conversation was the next day, and the party where she talks to Debling that evening.

The Balloon, we will say was one day later, and the Innovation Ball where Debling dances with Penelope was the following evening.

Debling calls on Penelope, and John calls on Francesca, the following morning. They are all wearing the same outfits at the Library Collection, so that was the same day.

We know “tomorrow evening” was Colin’s night of “revelry”, so Debling asks for Portia’s hand and Colin gets drunk the following day.

That puts the Queen’s ball and the Carriage ride as the day after that.

So according to my calculations…

Colin getting back to their First Kiss was two weeks. Their kiss to the Hot Air Balloon was 9 days, and the Debling only courted Penelope for 4 days.

First Kiss to Carriage was 13 days.

Man did not “fall harder”. Man plummeted at 180mph to the ground.

"These last few weeks have been a torment" sir, few weeks my ass it hasn't even been two weeks.

[letissierdesigns]

Working on the Fall

[lokisgoodgirl]

Holy Orders [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader]

Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection A Link to my (new) Masterlist is HERE Summary: (17) Loki is working undercover as a priest in Rome. Ecumenical eroticism ensues. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Heresy. Smuttish. Latin. Priest!Loki. Language. (w/c 3.6k)

The door of your holiday apartment slammed behind you, cursing as you stumbled down a tiny step directly onto the cobbled street. It had been three weeks since the travesty of the Renaissance Faire.

After three days, you had accepted that Loki’s attention denial was not a phase. After five, the absence of his irritating teasing had you feeling an unusually bitter disappointment.

After seven, when he had left for Rome without even a courtesy farewell, you had woken in the night wondering the unthinkable. What if Thor was right?

And after twelve, you had begrudgingly accepted that you loved him.

There was a morning buzz in the air, jostling bicycles ringing lightly as the slap of your sandals sounded lightly on the aged stone beneath your feet. You hurried across the street, trying not to be run over by a moped speeding past, blowing up the back of your sundress. Jesus Christ, you thought; heart pounding before your lips curled in a secret smile. Father Laufeyson wouldn’t like that kind of talk, you laughed to yourself as you rounded the corner and Piazza Navona came into view.

For two weeks, Loki had been working undercover in a small church tucked out of the main bustle of Rome. His home had been the same ancient streets you now walked. And you wondered as you passed the marbled carvings of roman gods hanging against the circular fountains, if he had ever thought about you.

Of course not, he’s been busy, you chided yourself, hoisting the bag strap on your shoulder. When Rogers had assigned him this mission, apparently the laughs of the team could be heard two floors below. But as it turned out, Loki could be as convincing as a priest as he could be as a heartless arsehole. Now that his information gathering was complete, you had been sent to collect the evidence. You volunteered, idiot. A seamless pass-over. In and out, Rogers had said. Fuck, should someone have told him it was me that was coming? What if he’s mad?

You turned another corner, skilfully avoiding a group of tourists buried in a map. And what if he’s not? you thought; a thrill of wild anticipation blossoming in your belly.

“The Church of Santa Maria dell'Anima…” you murmured absent-mindedly, looking up at the flat exterior of the sandy coloured stone building.

As far as Roman churches went, it wasn’t a big draw - favoured more by the faithful local residents than photo-happy tourists. Perfect for a Hydra Vatican infiltration ring, you thought, pursing your lips as the eager congregation filed past you up the short flight of steps to the entrance. Swirling a white shawl around your shoulders, you took a deep breath of heavy, heated air.

Morning mass was about to begin.

You slipped inside the ancient wooden doors, a waft of stale coolness tingling over your skin. The breath seemed to evaporate from your lungs as your gaze drew up, eyes scanning over the high marble pillars and bright frescos painted floor to ceiling. Warm orange and gold infused the air, the sting of spiced incense filling your nostrils. The low hum of foreign conversation echoed around the church from people filing between the wooden pews, facing the altar. And there he was.

Loki Laufeyson stood with a long wooden taper clasped gently between his fingers, re-lighting candles by the far side of the carved stone nave. Strands of waxy hair fell around his cheekbones, illuminated by a hundred flickering flames resting in the metal display.

A thick green vestment embroidered with gold hung over his body down to his calves, making him look even taller than he usually did. Pure white shirt sleeves billowed around his arms, swaying gently as he continued his intricate work unphased.

He looked deep in thought, a calm serenity bathing his sharp profile as he blew out the taper and watched the smoke waft aimlessly through speckles of swirling dust. Loki clasped his hands in front of him, flattening the luxurious fabric of his vestment against the washboard stomach you knew lay beneath.

He turned, bowing lightly towards the crucifix hanging above the altar before ascending the several low steps.

Fuuuuck, you thought; pussy suddenly throbbing. Your hand fumbled to the strap of your bag, lowering it and sliding subtly into the back row. A cold shock of wood pressed against the back of your bare knees, making you wince. When did I get so wet, you frowned; knowing exactly when, as Loki turned towards the congregation.

A bell chimed, summoning another priest from the side of the church. You drew the shawl tighter around your chest, feeling your heart thunder against the clench of your fist. A woman slid in beside you, tucking her hair nervously behind her ears before making a sign of the cross.

“Nel nome del Padre, del Figlio e dello Spirito Santo, Amen.” she murmured, running her wide eyes up and down the ridiculously handsome figure opening the large bible, poised behind the altar. You suddenly wondered if morning mass had always been this popular.

The low tinkle of bells echoed again as the service began. The crowd rose, fifty or so of the faithful bowing their heads as the undercover Avenger took centre stage.

He is loving this, you thought incredulously, seeing his arms rise at his sides. The drape of green and gold vestments shimmered in the light, a warm glow radiating upwards to his pale face bathed in morning bronze from the stained glass. The crowd before you sat down obediently on the lowering of his palms. You fumbled backwards, catching yourself on the edge of the long bench.

Loki’s stare ran over the congregation, covertly scanning every face like only his keen gaze could. It stopped on you, making your breath hitch. You thought you saw the tug of a smirk at the side of his lips, a glint in his eye. Or maybe it was the light.

The next twenty minutes passed in a religiously erotic blur, swathes of ceremonial chants in Italian at Loki’s command making your thighs squeeze together. Heresy, you thought; a shudder rolling down your spine as the god leant forward to kiss the gospel. I’d be burnt in the old days.

The second priest had blessedly taken over to give the sermon, the broken words you could understand not even registering as you watched Loki listen rapturously to the side in feigned interest. He knows I’m watching him, you scowled; realising that every casual smooth of his stomach, every clench of his perfect jaw was for you.

How you wanted to storm up the marbled aisle, grab his stupid fancy poncho in a fist and kiss him violently against the golden tabernacle. Might blow his cover, though; you thought, immediately thinking of what else you could blow as he gripped onto the tall candlesticks by the altar.

The vivid fantasy was broken as the congregation shuffled to a stand. The woman beside you adjusted her cleavage, shaking her hair back. Loki raised his hand. “Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum.” he said, the practised words of prayer a chant - that velvet voice sinking through the heavy air like double cream. Even speaking in Latin, it was irresistible.

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be your name

Your hips shuddered back against the wooden pew, bare skin of your thighs dragging against the grain. You recognised the tempo. How could you not.

“Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra.” Loki spoke slowly, eye-fucking you menacingly from the top of the raised steps behind the lecturn. His lips hovered on ‘tuum’, a fizz of unstoppable need rising in your belly as you recalled its place in the prayer.

Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on Earth, as it is in heaven.

Dozens of voices chimed around you, their Italian lilt making the dead language sing. But it was only his earthen tones you heard. Only him.

It had always, only been him.

“Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut, et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris” he rumbled in baritone, tilting his head.

Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, As we forgive those who trespass against us

You raised your gaze to meet his, knowing it would be waiting as he stood with his large hands encasing the sides of the lectern by the altar. His eyes narrowed briefly, the subtle slant of his brows betraying his utter bemusement at your presence.

“Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo.” he growled, the timbre of his voice making the woman beside you straighten. You could see her fingertips digging into the soft flesh between her knuckles, hands clasped in prayer.

And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

How appropriate, you mused. You watched as Loki slid the bible from its place, holding it briefly aloft and placing a kiss against the leather before lowering it to his crotch in a gentle hold.

“Amen.” he murmured, solemnly; lowering his chin.

“Amen.” came the ringing response. “Amen.” you echoed slowly, squinting thoughtfully as Loki turned and sat with a smirk.

You sat back down, questioning everything. Did you think that when he saw you it would have been any different from how it ever was? That he would somehow wordlessly communicate that he was pleased to see you? That he had missed you? That he loves me too, you scoffed painfully; flinching as the organ sprang to life.

The communion procession began with those at the front of the church, each person pausing in front of the priest to receive god’s bounty. Loki and his counterpart held the small, circular host aloft, their lips moving before placing it on the recipients tongue. Kinky, you thought; before realising the woman to your right had risen and joined the slow moving queue. Fuck.

You shuffled behind her, rolling your eyes as she fiddled nervously with her hair, smoothing and re-smoothing the same strands. Your gaze wandered to the ornate figure of Christ hanging on the cross above the altar, his limp form getting closer and closer. Don’t look at me like that, you huffed to the disappointed looking Jesus; immediately switching focus to the floor beneath your feet.

“Corpo di Cristo…” a dark voice murmured. It was tinged with weighty intentions, thick memories of feral moans of unrestrained passion in your ear flooding your mind as you fluttered your lashes upwards. Loki’s eyes betrayed none of your history, his stare glazed; the twitch of one dark eyebrow the only indicator that he ever knew you at all.

“Amen.” you whispered hoarsely, parting your lips.

He placed the host gently on your outstretched tongue. Against your better judgement, you felt your lids flicker shut, the soft graze of his fingertip smoothing against wet muscle that longed for his touch.

It lingered, the melt of the wafer beginning to slide down your throat. His wide fingertip pulled imperceptibly at your bottom lip on its withdrawal, making your eyes shoot open. Loki’s brows raised, a light furrow reminding you that there was an entire congregation at your back. You gave a small nod towards him, scurrying around the front pews and back to your seat.

You could feel the burning heat in your cheeks for the rest of the mass, ten minutes feeling like an endless vat of time. The final blessing was, in reality, swift. A few chimes, swings of incense and murmurs of reverent praise and it was done.

Loki disappeared in procession with the other priest behind a door at the back of the church in a sway of luxurious, billowing green. The stillness of the holy space washed over you as attendees left in their own time. You checked your watch. Forty-five minutes. Had that been all?

The clap of your sandals against the marble floor echoed as you walked slowly around the walls, drawn to the beauty of the figures drawn by those long dead. You traced your fingers over cracks in the face of a rather grim looking Virgin Mary. “I know how you feel…” you whispered to no-one, feeling the plaster catch beneath delicate skin.

“I very much do not think you know how she feels.”

Your hand paused on the fresco, falling to your side as you turned. Loki stood resplendent before you, the folds of his holy garment making him look more achingly irresistible than he ever had before. You felt a frown crease your forehead, pursing your lips to stop a moan. It was worse up close.

Loki leant forward, casting a conspiratorial glance towards a small group of locals loitering by the door. “-due to the fact that for one thing, she is a virgin, while you...Agent...” he smirked. Your frown deepened.

“Keep your voice down.” you hushed, glancing over your shoulder. Satisfied, you looked back to Loki, his obsidian hair curled behind delicate ears revealing the white flash of his clerical collar. The bone structure you knew so well against the curves of your body sang in the mid-morning light through the windows, every iridescent inch of his skin glowing with tantalising radiance.

“I see you still managed to wear green.” you scoffed under your breath, making the priest chuckle lightly. “It’s Ordinary Time in the church calendar, Agent. Did you not read the briefing documents? It is the standard colour for the season” he drawled quietly, giving a reverent nod to his fellow priest heading for the door and the beckon of Rome beyond.

“They really think you’re one of them?” you said, turning towards a row of candles flickering to the side. Each one represented someone loved and lost, a prayer. A hope.

“Of course." he scoffed. "Father John Lockhart on pilgrimage from England. Why would they suspect?”

You ran your eyes down the silk embroidered vestment which hid his intensely muscular body. Just. The bulge of his biceps shifted beneath the billowing sleeves making your gaze hover. “Priests aren’t usually so…”

“Yes?” he goaded, raising an eyebrow in amusement. You dropped a coin in the basket, taking a candle and fingering the wick. “You don’t seem like the type, that’s all. I’m surprised you didn’t shapeshift.”

Loki chuckled. “My dear, you clearly don’t know Catholicism. A web of mysteries and contradictions which go far beyond their lore-bound texts...” he said, shifting so you stood with biceps pressing against each other.

“Are you considering a change of vocation then?” you quipped, playing with the wick between your fingers. He faced the wall of candles, but you could feel the stare of his eyes roaming the sliver of skin beneath the parted shawl. “Not quite.” he muttered absent-mindedly. “The reverence and theatrics are appealing I grant you, but there is far too much celibacy for my liking.”

The ghost of his breath skated across your collarbone, the unbearably small distance between you making every nerve in your body vibrate with desire.

“What are you praying for, mio figlio?” he murmured innocently under his breath as the wick of your candle caught flame from another. My child, you thought with a grimace, recognising the taboo of unmistakeable arousal deep in your pussy.

You watched the tear-dropped fire settle from its first rage, flickering gently as it came to terms with its place in the world. Setting it down amongst the others, you turned your chin to look up at him. The blues of Loki’s irises swam with green in the shadowed alcove, the dance of the candlelight illuminating him like a bygone Saint.

“Salvation.” you whispered quietly, voice catching.

Without knowing why, you bowed your head. The god’s fingers flew gently beneath your chin, tilting it upwards once more. His eyes were wide, lips parted as he inhaled softly. “Darling, I-”

“Padre?” a voice muttered tentatively behind you.

You and Loki both turned, seeing the fidgeting figure of the woman who had been your unknowing lust-buddy all through the service.

“Sì, figlia mia?” Loki replied gently, his hands disappearing back into the draped sleeves of his robes as he clasped them together. You rolled your eyes, pivoting back towards the wall of tealit flames. The thunder of your heart was a solid beat in your ears, pounding. His smooth voice rumbled in Italian, the sweet ministrations of his undercover persona clearly honed over the past two weeks. “Grazie Padre…” you heard the woman say, a tremble in her voice; before quick footsteps echoed away from you.

Loki chuckled, resuming his position by your side. “Impure thoughts about an inappropriate figure, apparently.” he whispered, barely contained glee bursting from the confines of propriety. “Wishes to make a confession to me personally at the next session. Imagine that. I wonder who it could be.”

“You are impossible." you sighed, a wave of jealousy roaring in your belly. "I bet you’ve been very popular here in that regard.” you said through gritted teeth, trying to focus on the wavering light of your candle. Salvation.

“Always so quick to judge.” he chuckled, drawing himself stoically upwards. “My dear, I am a priest.” he said, turning to face you. His nose was inches from your forehead, the empty church feeling stifling as the air settled around you both. “I have been a beacon of chastity...and contrary to popular belief, I do take my assignments seriously.”

Slowly, you met his gaze – the sincerity in his face, unmistakeable. “I didn’t think you took anything seriously, Father.” you said, mockingly; unable to stop yourself as you watched his eyes narrow at the words.

“Don’t you mean Daddy, Agent?” he smouldered, “Or am I nothing but a memory to you now with my brief absence?”

In two quick steps from his impossibly long legs, your back was flush against the nearest wall. The curve of the low archway hung dangerously close to Loki’s full height as he loomed above you. His forearm pressed to the marble cornicing above your head, trapping you like a lamb for slaughter.

A long sleeve of forest green shielded you from the gaze of a dozen judgemental statues, the collar around his neck straining against the weight of a hard vein that bulged ominously. “Why must you always think the worst of me?” he growled, the primal sound rumbling deep in his throat hoarse and wild. Familiar burning lust bubbled uncontrollably to the surface in those beautifully dangerous eyes as his chest heaved, daring you to respond.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you said, flustered as the shawl fell around your shoulders to the floor. Loki stepped closer, fingertips of the hand not affixed above your head squeezing into the flesh of your bare bicep.

“I think you know very well.” he spat, all traces of serenity gone as he blazed beneath a façade of restraint. “Why are you here? To taunt me? To parade yourself in front of me while you tease me with your endless games? Anyone else could have taken your place. Anyone.”

Your frown deepened, a deep ache blossoming in your belly as you tasted the rage on his every word. You shouldn’t have come.

“-Or am I wrong? Have you come to confess to me, darling?” he hummed goadingly, the feeling of his tips running down your aching skin making your shiver.

Sarcasm bit through his words, slicing through the intimacy of the moment. “And what better place? What better persona? Are you ready to admit your undying love for me and put this charade to an end? Or have your attentions wandered...”

A staggered breath surged in your throat as his hand traced down your cleavage, feeling your resistance falter. You could feel the swell of his hard erection through the drape of holy garb, the violence of his lust boiling beneath the shroud of theatrical consecration. The words were on the tip of your tongue- But then the game will be over for him. He will have won, you thought with a chill; And what then?

Loki’s brow furrowed, a jolt of his jaw taking you by surprise – like shaking off a fly. Whatever was in your head, he clearly didn’t want to hear it.

“And what about you…?” you managed to quiver through shaky breaths, your hands sliding tentatively over his shoulders. Loki tilted his head, confusion etched across his brow. In a brief second, you saw his bravado falter, features softening as he processed the possible meanings of your request. His tongue darted out, licking quickly over his cupid’s bow before biting his lip.

He shook his head, a solitary gasp of forced laughter gusting against your parted lips.

“I have just recalled I seem to owe you a certain...something, do I not?” he said casually, skating over his previous barbs as he tried to change the subject. You shuffled against the wall, attempting to pull him closer to you and failing. “More than one, actually.” you muttered, feeling the wet slick between your thighs grow hot. It was embarrassing how much you needed him. Above everything else, it was him.

“More than one?” Loki purred disapprovingly, tsk’ing as he raised an eyebrow. His hips dragged up your pelvis, every forbidden inch of his solid cock making you mad with need. You began to pant, as he thrust once against your torso. Creases had formed at the corner of his eyes; his outburst it seemed...forgotten.

He released the forearm from the wall above your head, a theatrical flourish of his arm making the heavy metal bolt across the doors of the church slam shut with an almighty clang.

“Here?” you gasped, feeling the embroidery of his sacred vestment scratch against your cleavage as he pressed his muscular torso against you. “But what about...you know.” You tilted your chin upwards towards the crucifix in explanation, the majesty of the surroundings somehow making you forget to whom you were pinned against.

“Don’t worry about Him, Agent…” Loki whispered, before his lips wrapped around your earlobe, sucking gently. “Mine are the only Holy Orders you shall be following today. Mine, the only sacrament your body desperately needs.” His dirty whispers hummed against your skin, falling deeper into waves of sin with each dark syllable. "Mine." he rasped quietly, the word melting against your breathy moans unheard, before fastening his lips to yours in a desperate kiss.

Continued in Holy Orders: Mercy Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection

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[its-poojagupta-shree]

As the crisp winter air sets in, it's time to revamp our wardrobes with cosy and stylish ensembles that not only keep us warm but also make a statement. In this comprehensive guide, we will delve into the must-have picks for a fashionable winter season, exploring the best winter collection trends, where to buy Pashmina kurtas and velvet kurtis online in India and discover the convenience of purchasing winter wear clothing for women online. Let's navigate the world of winter fashion and ensure your wardrobe is ready to embrace the chilly season in style.

[chic-a-gigot]

Journal des Dames et des Modes, editie Frankfurt 7 mars 1808, Costume Parisien (10): Diadême de Fleurs et Argent. Collier formé de Croix. Robe Retroussée avec des noeuds de Pélerin. Collection of the Rijksmuseum, Netherlands

According to the accompanying text (p. 264): silver diadem with flowers. Necklace of crosses. Gown of white muslin, retro-styled with the new ones. (of which a point is included at the bottom, so that an underskirt with embroidered edge is visible. Puffed sleeves. Embroidered silk shawl. White gloves. White shoes. The print is part of the fashion magazine Journal des Dames et des Modes, published in Frankfurt as copy of the French edition of Pierre de la Mésangère, (1798-1848).

[techytin]

🍂 Coffee shop fiasco

🔑 ONE-SHOT! (1) - Hongjoong

PAIRING: Workaholic Hongjoong x Afab! Reader

GENRE: Romance (Fluff)

WARNINGS: Cursing, Suggestive Jokes, Mention of alcohol.

WORD COUNT: 7K+

🔒 English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

Autumn slowly took over Seoul as It painted the city with all sort of vibrant colours. The trees that once wore a lively green now presented a dazzling array of reds, yellows, and oranges. The newly found atmosphere truly turned the streets into a cosy wonderland. Say goodbye to your favourite summer outfits and start dressing more toasty! A soft breeze is sure to follow your every step, and what is better than a hot beverage to battle the upcoming cold?

As much as I love the beautiful scenery, the cold does always seem to bite me in the worst ways. Luckily, the winter collections were in sale during the summer, giving me the perfect excuse to go shopping for toasty and cosy new clothing items for this autumn and winter!

As I made my way towards my workplace down the street, I gently adjust the folds of my new shawl. The fabric was so soft and warm, it kept my shoulders and face just the right temperature. A tender smile graced my lips. My body and mind relaxed. I felt confident, as if today was going to be easier than usual.

A contented sigh escaped my lips as I stepped into the cosy haven of the coffee shop, a place familiar and dear to my heart—“Rise & Shine,” the finest coffee haven on this block. This shop had such a lovely ambiance to it, you just felt like you had to sit down and relax. The soft smell of coffee and pastries accompanied by the sound of vintage oldies softly playing in the background had a special place in my heart.

"Good morning, Y/N," Seonghwa's warm voice greeted me as I entered the space, his attention momentarily diverted from tidying the tables, a towel casually draped over his shoulder. Our gazes met, for just a split second. "Morning, Hwa," I replied, a soft smile gracing my lips, a silent acknowledgment of the comfort found in our shared routine.

I headed to the bar and punched in to start my shift. Grabbing my assigned apron, tying it securely behind me. I cracked my knuckles and began my usual opening tasks, getting things ready for the day ahead.

A few hours passed, and the shop was rather empty. Don’t get me wrong, I was incredibly happy It wasn’t super busy. Who would want to work that hard? I get paid minimum wage… No, thank you.

While I carefully tidied up the bar, Seonghwa came closer, his expression adorned with a mischievous yet charming smile. "Y/N~," he called out softly, his tone laced with a hint of guilt. "Table six wants a cappuccino and a pastry. Anything would do, according to him. Would you pretty please handle that for me?" His voice carried a playful whine, accompanied by an earnest gaze framed by puppy-like eyes and a pronounced pout gracing his lips.

"Seonghwa, this is the third time you've asked me to do your order. Is everything alright?" I ask sincerely as I made my way to the coffee machine to prepare the requested cappuccino for table six.

"Honestly? Not really," Seonghwa admitted, a hint of vulnerability colouring his voice. Leaning against the bar, he wore a sad smile while sharing his struggles. "I'm having a rough day. I can feel a cold coming on, that irritating scratch in the back of my throat will not leave me alone." he confessed, his expression a mix of discomfort and resignation.

"Ah, that's rough," I sympathized, offering a gentle, understanding smile as I turned towards the pastry counter. Bending down, I retrieved a delectable chocolate-filled croissant, my voice slightly muffled by the action. "If you're feeling under the weather tomorrow, do let me know, alright?" I suggested, hoping to alleviate his worries.

Seonghwa emitted a soft chuckle. "I'll keep that in mind.”

"Perfect. I'll handle table six, no need to fret," I assured him, tenderly patting his back as I straightened up. Placing the chocolate-covered croissant on a dainty plate, I carefully transferred it to a tray, positioning it beside the freshly brewed cappuccino. Each movement carried a sense of care and consideration, a gesture intended to comfort not just our customers, but also my co-worker behind the bar.

Carefully, I balance the tray in my hands as I approached table six. A young man, seemingly in his mid-twenties, sat there typing away on his laptop. His tired appearance was very clear. Beneath his eyes, slight eyebags were present. They were slightly red and puffy, as were his lips... Almost as if he had cried. But I knew better than to question strangers by their appearance. Maybe he just had a bad day?

"Here's your order, sir," I murmured softly, my voice almost a whisper, almost as if I felt the need to not disturb him further. His deep, dark brown eyes met mine as I carefully positioned the tray on his table. "Thank you," he replied. A subtle smile graced his lips, causing his glasses to shift slightly upward. My heart skipped a beat at the small gesture.

I couldn't help but get lost in his eyes, holding my gaze longer than I intended. A flush of embarrassment coloured my cheeks as I realized I might have been staring a bit too intently. Swiftly breaking the eye contact, I coughed lightly, hoping to alleviate the awkwardness that had settled in the air.

Managing a timid smile, I spoke up, "If there's anything else you need, my colleague and I will be over at the bar." I tried to sound composed, despite the lingering awkwardness from my inadvertent staring. I shifted slightly, attempting to regain my composure as I awaited his response, hoping to smooth over the momentary discomfort.

The man gave me a nod in response before going back to typing on his laptop. Quickly, I made my way back to behind the bar. Once behind the bar, a large amount of air left my lungs with a complimentary hand on my chest.

“What was that all about? You into sleep-deprived blondies?” Seonghwa laughed silently before shoving my arm playfully. "What? No," I replied with a scowl, "He just has pretty glasses.” Rolling my eyes at his teasing, I returned my focus to the task at hand, but his laughter lingered in the air, making my cheeks flush.

As more time drifted by, I found myself nearing the end of my shift. The intriguing man with the tired eyes and pretty glasses was still here, completely absorbed in his tasks. But that wasn't odd at all. It seemed like a routine—people dropping in every day to finish whatever they had to do. As a matter of fact, tonight, the mysterious glasses man wasn't even the only one typing away on his laptop.

As the final moments of my shift approached, I neatly folded my apron and set it aside. The mysterious man signalled Seonghwa for the bill. With a nod, Seonghwa called out, "Y/N! Table Six, the bill, please!" A reluctant groan slipped past my lips as I headed towards the register. I swiftly printed the bill and carried it over to his table, my steps feeling slightly heavier than usual.

"Here you are, sir," I offered, extending the bill, which he accepted with a gentle grace. "Here, keep the change as a tip," he insisted, passing me the money, a generous act that conjured a genuine smile upon my lips. "Oh, thank you. That's incredibly kind of you," I expressed my gratitude warmly. “It is no big deal. Now, I really must get going. Goodnight.” As he stood up to leave, I made my way back to the bar to finally officially end my shift.

"You know, I'm certain you did that on purpose," I accused Seonghwa, my gaze stern yet filled with playfulness. He chuckled sweetly in response. "What? You liked his glasses, didn't you?" Seonghwa teased, struggling to contain his laughter as he noticed my annoyed expression. Causing a heavy sigh to escape my lips. "You're an asshole. I'll see you tomorrow, unless you're too sick. Take care, Hwa!" I giggled as I made my way to the coffee shop's exit, our banter leaving a lingering smile on my face.

The chill of the autumn evening brushed against my cheeks, prompting me to swiftly wrap a shawl around my shoulders, seeking warmth against the cool breeze. Thankfully, my home was a mere five-minute stroll away, and the path home promised a serene and beautiful walk.

Under the morning sky, I strolled down the familiar street, heading towards the cosy café filled with the inviting scent of coffee and the soft old vintage tunes. Yet, today was different. There was something else on my mind—a lingering thought about the mysterious man from yesterday.

Would he happen to be there again today?

As I walked, I couldn't help but wonder, my mind was filled with anticipation and a hint of excitement. My routine felt a tad more thrilling, tinged with the possibility of crossing paths with the intriguing stranger once more.

I couldn't believe how much space he was taking up inside my head. I mean, seriously, I didn't even have a clue what his name was. But those gorgeous blond locks and those deep, soulful brown eyes? They managed to hijack my thoughts last night, keeping me wide awake for longer than I wanted.

I pushed the thought aside as I stepped into "Rise & Shine," immediately met by a familiar face—Seonghwa. "I'm not sick!" He blurted out before I even reached the counter. "I freaked out, thinking I'd have to blow my only sick days on a stupid cold. Morning, by the way." His grin lit up the room as he wrapped me in a swift hug. I chuckled and returned the embrace, feeling a warmth spreading through me at his contagious happiness.

"Thank goodness you're not sick. I'd hate to grind through the shift solo," I remarked, securing my apron around my waist.

"I know, I'm irreplaceable," Seonghwa said, a playful smirk on his lips. "Kidding, kidding. But let's face it, I'd miss dealing with your whiny ass." His teasing tone carried a hint of affection, sparking a playful banter between us as we readied ourselves for the day ahead.

A few hours into our shift, Seonghwa approached me, leaning against the bar. He had just finished tidying some tables. "Lost in thought, huh?" His sudden question caught me off guard. Was I that noticeably distracted? I mentally scolded myself. "No, not really." I replied, attempting to sound casual, all while scrubbing the counter with more vigor than necessary.

"Come on now," Seonghwa nudged, his eyes holding a knowing glint. "We've been best friends for three years. I can always tell when something's bothering you, Y/N." He was right. There was no need to keep this dumb thought hidden. The man wasn’t even here, so what harm could it do?

"Okay, fine. It's about that guy from yesterday," I admitted with a sigh, meeting Seonghwa's gaze. It was unusual for me to discuss customers, especially if I found them intriguing. Normally, the only time a customer came up in conversation was if they were rude or caused some sort of trouble. But this situation felt different, and it intrigued my coworker enough to prompt his attention.

"You mean the one with the ‘cute’ glasses?" Seonghwa arched an eyebrow, fully invested in what I had to say now. He had his arms prompted up on the counter as he looked at me with a slight smirk on his face.

"Yeah… It’s just his looks and the way he spoke... so gentle. Kept me up longer than I care to admit," I confessed, feeling a hint of embarrassment tingeing my cheeks.

Seonghwa's reaction was unexpected; he let out a small gasp before bursting into laughter. "I totally get it! The guy did have a certain appeal, even with that, how should I put it... sleep-deprived look. Seriously, that guy needs some shut-eye," Seonghwa chuckled, his laughter filling the air around us. I couldn't help but shake my head at his response, his light-heartedness bringing a smile to my face.

"He was cute, and surprisingly kind. Even left a tip. Hard not to think about him. I guess I sort of hoped he'd come back," I admitted, a slight shrug accompanying my words. Seonghwa nodded in understanding.

"The evening rush is coming up. Who knows, maybe he'll show up again?" Seonghwa tried to lift my spirits, offering a gentle pat on my head. His attempt to lift my mood was appreciated.

"I hope you're right," I murmured quietly, my thoughts lingering on the possibility before refocusing on the tasks at hand.

As the evening rush surged in, a wave of late-night workers, young adults, and teens flooded into the café. It was a bustling night, each order stacking upon the other, demanding my undivided attention. The atmosphere buzzed with energy, my mind was too preoccupied with the mounting orders to even ponder if the mysterious man had made a return.

"Three lattes for table twelve? Ugh, I'm beat. Why couldn't Yunho have been called in to lend a hand?" Seonghwa complained, swiftly getting to work on the lattes.

"Mingi's on shift at the other location tonight. And I tried reaching Felix, no luck," I replied with a slight pout, noticing the disappointment etching on Seonghwa's face.

"Don't stress, we've got this," I reassured him, playfully nudging his shoulder before hurrying off to attend to the order placed by table two. Working in tandem, we manoeuvred through the busy café, determined to tackle the mountain of orders with teamwork.

I returned to the bar, ready to tackle the next set of orders, when I found Seonghwa sporting a mischievous grin. "Y/N~ I've got a special request for you. And before you say anything! I’ll take care of your order. Could you do this one for Kim Hongjoong?" His smirk widened, clearly revealing in the baffled look on my face.

"Uh, okay," I replied, arching an eyebrow in curiosity as I glanced over the order slip he passed me. It was an iced Americano. Nothing too complex. Swiftly, I prepared the drink, effortlessly crafting it to perfection before making my way to the designated table. Table six, situated right by the window.

There he was, yet again. My eyes slightly widened at the sight of those blond locks and those beautiful eyes. He was focussed on his laptop, much like the day before. A rush of emotions stirred within me, causing my heart to skip a beat and a faint blush to grace my cheeks. It was confusing. Why did I feel this nervous around him? After all, he was just another customer.

Gathering my nerves, I approached his table with a deep breath. "Your order, sir," I delivered with what I hoped was a cool and collected tone. His eyes met mine, and that familiar small smile adorned his face, making my heart flutter. He was seriously good-looking.

"Thanks," he replied, his voice warm and friendly. Despite my attempt to play it cool, I couldn't help but grin back before hastily stepping away, hoping he didn't catch the small dust of pink that painted my cheeks.

"You! you, oh my god!" I exclaimed, pointing at Seonghwa before playfully hitting his arm. His laughter filled the air. "Ouch, Y/N!" he protested, catching my arms and holding my gaze. "How about a thank you? Now you know his name, at least," Seonghwa said, a hint of amusement fading as he noticed my puzzled expression.

"Take this order for Kim Hongjoong?" he repeated the words from earlier, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You're a bit slow on the uptake, Y/N," he teased, chuckling at the way my eyes widened in surprise.

"Kim Hongjoong... That's his name? Oh, Seonghwa, you're a lifesaver!" I exclaimed, brimming with excitement, and pulled him into a grateful hug. His smile beamed with pride as I thanked him.

"I know, I'm amazing," Seonghwa joked with a playful grin. "But hey, let's focus and finish up these orders before our shift ends, or we'll be stuck doing overtime." He gently disengaged from the hug, flashing one last reassuring smile before turning back to his tasks.

He was right, as always. My fleeting moment of happiness was swiftly overshadowed by the overwhelming pile of work that awaited us. "I swear, I hate this job," I groaned, feeling the weight of the tasks ahead as I grabbed hold of a coffee glass.

"Excuse me?" A drowsy voice called out from behind me, pulling my attention. I spun around to meet the source of the voice, only to find myself face to face with the man I now recognized as Kim Hongjoong. My heart skipped a beat, prompting me to hastily tidy my apron and smooth down my hair before offering him a welcoming smile. "Hi, how can I assist you?" I greeted him nervously, my smile betraying the subtle flutter in my chest as he looked at me with curiosity in his eyes.

"Um, could I get another iced Americano?" His voice sounded slightly unsure, and it echoed with a hint of nervousness. His uncertainty reflected in my own nerves. Did I have something on my face? Was my hair dishevelled? I fought off the panic rising within me, offering a kind smile in response. "Absolutely, not a problem at all. I'll bring it to your table."

"Oh, no, it's fine. I can wait here. You seem quite busy already, and I don't want to add to your workload. I'm already here anyway," he quickly replied, wanting to spare me the trouble of walking over to serve him. His consideration only added to the flurry of emotions swirling within me.

"That's really kind of you," I remarked, a genuine smile lighting up my face as I reached for a glass to prepare his iced Americano. Catching his gaze, I noticed his returning smile, soft and gentle, causing a warmth to spread through me. His simple gesture made my cheeks flush with a soft hue.

"Here's your coffee," I said, passing him the freshly prepared drink. As our fingers briefly brushed against each other, a surge of warmth ignited within me, sending a subtle yet undeniable spark. Could it be possible? Was I actually starting to feel something for this stranger?

"Thank you so much. I desperately need this caffeine to stay awake," he chuckled, his laughter so endearing it effortlessly brought a smile to my lips.

"You seem like a hard worker" he nodded towards me. "Thank you, I do my best," I replied. "Oh, by the way, I never caught your name," he said, his lips curled in a gentle, constant smile as he looked at me.

"I'm L/N Y/N, but feel free to just call me Y/N," I replied, feeling a rush of happiness. Him starting a conversation and asking about my name made me feel like I was in some sort of movie.

"A pleasure to meet you. My name is Kim Hongjoong," he introduced himself with a warm smile. Although I already knew his name, I played along.

"You can just call me Hongjoong," he added, offering his hand for a handshake. I gently accepted, feeling the softness of his touch and the carefulness in his handshake, which sent a pleasant shiver down my spine.

"I'll let you get back to work. Thanks again for the coffee," he said graciously before making his way back to his table, leaving me with a lingering sense of joy from our brief interaction.

"Okay, what was that?" Seonghwa questioned from behind me. I could almost feel the mischievous grin on his face as I turned around to face him.

"Nothing special," I nonchalantly brushed it off, trying to downplay it. However, the warm flush on my face betrayed my true feelings. Without thinking, I instinctively hid my face in my hands, attempting to shield my embarrassment.

Seonghwa chuckled softly at my attempt to hide the evident blush on my face as he leaned against the bar. "You sure about that? Looked like more than just 'nothing special' to me."

I sighed, letting my hands fall back to my sides. "It wasn’t something ‘special’ It just left me a bit flustered because he’s cute Hwa. But, it doesn’t matter, he’s just a customer."

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. A look I know all too well."Just a customer? That's not what I’m seeing here. The way he looked at you and that whole handshaking thing—come on, Y/N, don’t be like that!"

Rolling my eyes, I leaned against the counter right next to him. "It's not like that. We had a little chat. That's all."

Seonghwa leaned in, his tone teasing. "Uh-huh, just a little chat that left you blushing like a schoolgirl. Classic sign of something more, if you ask me."

I nudged him playfully. "You're reading too much into it. Besides, he's probably not even interested.” I said while turning away from him to try and continue on with the last few orders.

Seonghwa grinned mischievously. "Well, there's one way to find out. Why don't you slip him your number with his next coffee? You know, just in case he needs any more 'caffeine to stay awake.'"

I hastily turned back around to give his arm a playful slap, my cheeks flared a rosy pink as an undeniable smile crept on my lips. "Seonghwa! You're unbelievable. I'm not just going to give a customer my number."

He laughed at my sudden display before shooting me a small wink. "Who said anything about giving? Slip it in with his receipt, make it a little mysterious. Trust me, it works like a charm."

“Yea right, maybe in one of those movies or K-drama’s you watch.” I laughed with a smirk on my lips. If he got to tease me, so did I. He looked at me with a small pout. “Y/N, just give it a try. How will you ever get prince charming if you don’t take your first step?”

I sighed, contemplating the idea. "I don't know about that, Hwa. It feels a bit too forward."

Seonghwa gave my hair a small ruffle before returning to his work. "Well, you'll never know if you don't try. Life's too short for missed opportunities, Y/N."

As I pondered Seonghwa's suggestion, my gaze involuntarily drifted back to Hongjoong's table. He was immersed in his work, unaware of our conversation. The thought of taking a chance and leaving a note lingered in my mind, adding an unexpected twist to an otherwise ordinary day at the coffee shop.

There was just a pang of regret in my heart. Why did I have to turn down Seonghwa’s advice? The missed opportunity to just get a little bit closer to mysterious glasses man slipped through my fingers like sand.

By now days, no weeks? Two whole months had passed, and Hongjoong had returned every single day. He became a constant presence in the coffee shop, engrossed in his laptop, as he quickly became a pleasant part of my daily routine.

Seonghwa, being my best friend of course, did some digging for me and found out about Hongjoong's workplace—a high-ranking office. It all made sense now. His perpetual dedication to work had a foundation in a position of apparent importance, a fact that intrigued me. Seonghwa insisted that Hongjoong held a significant role in his company. “I swear, He must be some high rank there if he has that much work.” Were his exact words.

Despite my missed opportunities, I still managed to have a few interactions with Hongjoong. Usually just casual exchanges. Our conversations, while enjoyable, still made me year for more than casual. I wanted to get to know him. His mysterious self just made me so… Drawn to him.

"Evening, Hongjoong!" Seonghwa's familiar voice rang out from behind the bar, drawing my attention in his direction. A gentle smile graced my lips as my eyes locked with Hongjoong's, those captivating deep pools that had captured my heart.

I greeted him with a small wave, and he gave me a smile and a wave of his own. "The usual?" I asked as he approached the bar. "Yeah, you always know just what I need, Y/N," he chuckled, a warmth lingering in his laughter as he headed toward his regular spot at table six, like clockwork, just like every other day.

The evening shifts had become my haven, and the reason why, wasn't much of a mystery. The soft music of oldies whispered through the building, creating a comforting melody that made me feel at peace as I prepared Hongjoong’s favourite iced Americano. Tonight, the coffee shop wore a quiet ambiance, with only a few scattered customers, but that didn’t bother me at all.

Completing his drink, I carried the cold cup to his usual table. As I handed it over, our eyes met, and he expressed his gratitude with a warm smile. I mirrored the sentiment with a smile of my own.

"Busy as ever, Hongjoong?" I found myself asking, an inexplicable urge to talk to him. It wasn't every day that I felt this confident, but having known him for a while now, I dared to strike a conversation.

He shook his head, a hint of weariness in his eyes. "I actually worked ahead a few days back, so I'm working on extra tasks for the future." His response caught me off guard for a brief moment, my eyes widening in surprise, before I quickly composed myself. Hongjoong, noticing the change in my expression, wore a concerned look.

"Work ahead? Seriously, do you ever take a break?" I added a teasing tone to my words, hoping to lighten the mood, but Hongjoong simply shook his head, his expression carrying a weight of solemn determination.

"I can't afford to rest. I'd rather stay ahead of the game, even if it means diving into work I haven't received yet,"

His words lingered in the air, leaving me both speechless and impressed, and I took a moment to formulate a response. "That's admirable. But really... When was the last time you had some time for yourself?"

Hongjoong paused, contemplating his answer. "Honestly, I don't exactly remember when I last took a day to myself." A small chuckle escaped my lips. "Come on, man. You're already ahead. Why not take a day off?"

He pondered on my question for a moment. "What could I even do?" His response left me slightly puzzled. Was he serious? "Well, you could go get dinner or go out, maybe catch a movie?" I suggested a few options, and he looked at me with curiosity, nodding to indicate he was listening.

"Actually, I have my day off in two days. I was planning on grabbing dinner somewhere, but I haven't found someone to accompany me yet. No worries, though; the main thing is, you should take some time for yourself. It's important," I shared, watching Hongjoong nod once again.

"Well, I suppose I can look into taking a day off," he mused, a smile forming on his lips. I returned his smile before turning my attention back to my work.

The remainder of my shift went peacefully, passing by quicker than anticipated. As the end drew near, I noticed Hongjoong rising from his seat, gathering his belongings, likely heading to the bar to settle the bill.

"Hey, Y/N. Could I get the bill and a pen, please?" His voice caught my attention. "Sure, one second," I replied, drying my hands before tearing my gaze away from the unwashed glasses. Was I going crazy or did Hongjoong look, nervous? The thought stayed in my head as I approached the register to input his bill.

I handed him the bill and a pen, and he silently thanked me. Observing as he jotted something down on a small note, I assumed it was just a reminder for a task he intended to work on later. However, my surprise grew as he handed me the money, along with the mysterious note.

Confusion painted my face, but before I could voice my confusion, he bid us goodbye and exited the building, leaving me to unravel the mysteries concealed within that note. The lingering question of what could be written on that piece of paper danced in my mind, a subtle thought that lingered even after he disappeared from view.

I could feel Seonghwa’s growing presence behind me as I unfolded the note. “I took your advice, and planned a day off. You mentioned earlier that you had your day off in two days and that you lacked someone to accompany you to dinner. I figured I would take this opportunity to ask if I could accompany you? Just in case of yes, here’s my number.”

I read out loud, a growing smile playing on my lips. "Oh my god..." I muttered, utterly speechless as I revisited the message, reading it again and again. "Did he just ask you out?" Seonghwa inquired curiously, grabbing the note from my hands to read it himself.

I spun around in an attempt to retrieve the note, but Seonghwa only laughed, holding it higher and making me grow more annoyed. "Hwa, please! Give that back."

"Fine, fine. Here you go." He handed me the note, followed by a playful pat on the head. "Don't want to keep Prince Charming waiting now, do we?" His teasing voice caused my cheeks to flare, and a small huff escaped my lips.

Yet, any lingering annoyance dissolved as I reread the note for what felt like the hundredth time. He had actually given me his number!

For the rest of my shift, a small, content smile adorned my face as the thought of going out with Hongjoong occupied the forefront of my mind. The anticipation and excitement lingered, making me feel content and happy for the remaining hours of my day.

Once nestled in the cosy embrace of my home, I sank into the sofa, the note clutched in one hand and my phone in the other. With a sense of excitement, I scanned the words again, feeling like a teenager in love with their crush. As I entered his number, I changed the contact name to his, savouring the small moment of victory.

Now, faced with the task of responding, a nervous energy settled in. Why had I suddenly become so jittery? He had asked me out; the least I could do was send the first text. Inflating my cheeks with air, I hovered my finger over the text and call buttons beneath his contact.

Should I call him? Would he even be awake at this hour? It's only eight PM; he should be, right? Thoughts and insecurities waltzed in my head, and with a deep breath, I pressed the call button before chickening out.

My phone rang, each ring feeling like an eternity until a warm voice answered, "Hello, Kim Hongjoong speaking. How can I help you?" The politeness in his tone elicited a small, involuntary chuckle from me. "Hey, Hongjoong. It's Y/N," I began, settling into the cosy position in my favourite spot on my sofa, drawing my legs to my chest. "Oh, Y/N! Good evening," he responded, and the slight sound of excitement in his voice sent a delightful shiver through my stomach.

"I called about your note." "Ah, yes. About that. I completely understand if you don't want to," he expressed, a subtle insecurity seeping into his words. "No! Wait, no, not that. I would love to go out with you." I said quickly before he could feel like I did not want to go out with him.

A sigh of relief and a soft laugh echoed on the other end of the phone, and the warmth of his response wrapped around me like a comfortable blanket. "I'm glad. What restaurant did you have in mind?" His question, laced with anticipation, stirred a slight flush in my cheeks. His genuine eagerness to make plans mirrored my own excitement, prompting a soft giggle to escape from me.

"Do you know that cute Italian place near our café?" I asked, curiosity lacing my words. "Ah, yes, I do. Yunho, one of my friends, recently went there with his girlfriend. He went hours on about how delicious the food was." As he spoke, I could hear the faint sounds of him jotting things down, our conversation taking on a more casual and comfortable tone. He shared details of his friend's experience and the amount of dishes they had ordered. Our conversation soon turned into us talking about our favourite foods and what we would love to try in the future.

After about ten delightful minutes, he coughed slightly. "My, we really got off track," he chuckled, and I joined in. "I suppose... I didn't mind, though. You're very interesting, Kim Hongjoong." He released a breathy laugh. "Thank you. You're very interesting yourself. I have a feeling going out with you will be quite an adventure." His words left me blushing. God, he knows just what to say.

"Send me your address; I'll pick you up that day around six?" I hummed in agreement before responding, "That would be lovely. I can't wait." "Me neither. I'll see you then." After bidding our farewells, the moment he hung up, I grabbed the nearest pillow and let out a joyful scream. Making a mental note to share every detail with Seonghwa once I calmed down, I couldn't help but bask in the excitement of the upcoming date.

The much-anticipated day of the date had finally arrived, and I found myself pacing around my house in a frenzy, frantically searching for the perfect outfit, experimenting with various hairstyles and makeup looks. I was practically a ball of stress. Seonghwa, who joined me on FaceTime, couldn't help but laugh at my suffering as I showcased numerous outfit choices.

"Y/N, calm down. He literally met you in your work attire. Any one of those outfits will blow him away. I'm sure of it," Seonghwa reassured me, his words acting as a soothing balm to my nerves. I nodded appreciatively. "Thanks, Hwa. But seriously now. Black or white?" Seonghwa snickered and pointed at the black dress. I hurried into my bathroom, leaving Seonghwa on FaceTime in my room.

After a few minutes, I emerged, donned in a beautiful black dress that hugged my curves just right. "Perfect! He is so going to fall to his knees for you!" Seonghwa playfully exclaimed, his words and jests working their magic to boost my confidence, making me laugh at his attempts to ease my pre-date jitters.

I settled into my desk chair, bringing my phone along to continue chatting with Seonghwa while I worked on my hair and makeup until I was satisfied. Once I completed my beauty routine, I checked the time, realizing it was only twenty minutes away from six. "Oh my god, Hwa! I'll call you after I'm back. It's almost six!"

"Yeah, yeah. If you don't end up spending the night with him, you mean," Seonghwa teased, giving me a playful smirk before laughing and hanging up. “That sneaky... teasing son of a bitch.” I sighed as I tried to shake off the thought, grabbing my handbag and stuffing it with everything I might need for the evening. The anticipation of the upcoming date filled the air, and a mix of excitement and nerves danced in my stomach as I prepared myself mentally.

A few minutes later, the sound of my doorbell echoed through the house, prompting me to hasten a final check in the mirror to ensure I looked just right. Satisfied with my appearance, I made my way to the door, anticipation fluttering in my chest, and swung it open.

There he stood, clad in beige dress trousers paired with a loosely fitted dress shirt and a stylish dark brown vest. His glasses added a touch of intellectual charm, completing the ensemble that made him look like a smart and beautiful book lover. I found myself captivated, as we just stared at each other. And for how long, I couldn't tell, caught in a moment of silent admiration.

"You look... beautiful," he chuckled, breaking the silence. "Thank you. You look very handsome yourself." I replied with a shy smile, accepting his hand as he extended it towards me. He guided me out of my home, even going the extra mile to lock the door behind us.

As we strolled towards his car, he opened the passenger door for me, allowing me to step in. "Such a gentleman," I giggled appreciatively as he closed the door and circled around to settle into the driver's seat.

"Here's my phone. I'll unlock it for you so you can play some music. GPS is already running for the restaurant," he said, handing me his phone before securing his seatbelt. I accepted the device, a bit surprised at the sudden trust vested in me with such a personal belonging. Scrolling through Spotify, I decided to press play on one of his playlists.

The drive to the restaurant unfolded with light talk about our day and other casual topics. Fortunately, the restaurant wasn't far, just a few minutes away.

As he parked, he instructed me to stay put. Retrieving his wallet, he opened the door for me once again. A flustered smile graced my cheeks as I linked my arm with his. He closed the car door and locked it before walking alongside me towards the restaurant.

Once we stepped into the restaurant, the atmosphere embraced us with undeniable romance. The soft melodies, the flicker of candlelight, and the tantalizing aroma of delectable cuisine – they weren't kidding when they said this place was perfect for lovers. Hongjoong wore a proud smirk as the server led us to a window seat, where the table was adorned with the same intimate candlelight and a breathtaking bouquet of red roses.

"Oh, Hongjoong. You shouldn't have," I awed at the flowers. Taking our seats, I delicately cradled the bouquet in my hands. The sweet fragrance of the flowers enveloped my senses as I buried my nose in one of the rose petals, closing my eyes to savour the scent. The subtle click of a camera captured the moment, prompting my eyes to shoot open.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist. You looked so beautiful," Hongjoong confessed shyly, showing me the captured image. It was undeniably beautiful. "Don't apologize. It's cute. Thank you so much for the flowers." I offered him a comforting smile, reaching across the table to gently clasp his hand.

"I figured, why not go all out? I haven't been on a date in years, and you've truly become something to look forward to in my daily routine. So, I just had to at least try and impress you," he said with newfound confidence, interlocking his fingers with mine. His words painted my cheeks with a soft, rosy hue.

"You have no clue how long I've wanted to go out with you." It was my turn to confess, causing Hongjoong's eyes to widen for a second. "Oh? Y/N… I don't bite. You should've just asked me for my number. I would have given it to you in a heartbeat." He chuckled lightly, squeezing my hand. "You have no idea…" I replied with a bright smile, the evening unfolded nicely as we shared small talk once more.

A comfortable atmosphere enveloped us as we delved into conversations spanning from childhood hobbies to our first job experiences and beyond. It felt as if I had known him for years. Eventually, the waiter arrived to take our orders, and Hongjoong, with a charming smile, inquired about my preference for wine, to which I responded with an enthusiastic "Yes, of course." So, he ordered a bottle of fine wine to complement our dinner.

As the evening unfolded, our food arrived, but our conversation continued to flow effortlessly. By the end of the night, I realized that I had reached a level of connection with Hongjoong that had taken three years to achieve with Seonghwa, in comparison to just one evening. We clicked like two perfectly matched puzzle pieces, like two peas in a pod, making this date even more enjoyable and leaving me with a sense of newfound connection and warmth.

"The stars are beautiful tonight," I smiled, leaning my head against Hongjoong's shoulder. After our dinner, we decided to take a small walk, not ready to part ways just yet. "A star can't compare to your beauty," he complimented, giving me a comfortable smile that made me laugh just slightly. "That was so cheesy!" I continued to laugh, holding onto his arm, and he looked at me with a small pout.

"I'm kidding! It was cute. Cheesy, but cute." His smile returned as he gazed into my eyes. Standing alone beneath the moonlight, we looked at each other as we had so many times before, yet this time felt different.

I noticed his eyes flicker to my lips a few times, making me mirror his actions. "Ugh, I'm sorry, but... Can I… Can I kiss you?" Hongjoong asked nervously, almost a whisper. A short silence took over us."Why didn't you ask earlier... I would have given it to you in a heartbeat," I whispered, quoting his words from just a few hours before. His smile widened as he gently brushed a few strands of my loose hair behind my ear.

His hand gently cradled my cheeks as he leaned in, bringing our foreheads together. A smile adorned his lips as our lips finally met. The kiss was a symphony of sweetness, softness, and an overwhelming sense of love. It felt as if we had poured all our emotions into that one, transformative kiss—a kiss that altered the course of our lives, forever.

From a diligent coffee enthusiast and a dedicated barista, they transformed into two souls deeply in love. A promise to love forever.

The end.