#now I have to be more careful with how I prune them because winters approaching..

[commanderpyrrhadve]

the problem with having the motivation to properly take care of all my plants again and grow them all into beautiful healthy specimens is that now i actually want to buy plants/plant care stuff again. which is bad.

[asweetprologue]

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@sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo

Prompt: Favorite Food Relationships: Geralt/Jaskier Rating: G Content Warnings: None Summary: Jaskier gets Geralt a gift, and it makes Geralt realize he doesn't know enough about what Jaskier likes. He forms a plan to figure it out. ao3

The small cheesecloth package that was dropped in front of him wasn’t necessarily a surprise, but the way that Jaskier hovered as Geralt picked it up was.

“What’s this?” he grunted, sniffing the air subtly. The little package smelled like honey and flour and cream, and the thick, sweet smell of-- “Are those dates?” He pulled the cheesecloth off to reveal a neat little tart, gently browned on the edges, about the size of his palm.

“It is!” Jaskier leaned over him slightly, his arms holding several more packages. He continued, sounding a little nervous. “I know you don’t usually enjoy sweets, but I know the dates are your favorite. Must feed that witcher metabolism, no?”

“No,” Geralt eyed the tart. “Our metabolism is more efficient, not faster.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said, deflating slightly. “Well, if you don’t want it I guess I can--”

“How did you know that date was my favorite?” Geralt interrupted, looking back up at Jaskier. Oddly, he could see the bard color slightly at the question, an appealing pink spreading across his cheekbones.

“You bought a jar of jam from that merchant from Toussaint, remember? You never buy jam, unless it’s for me, so I assumed you must have a preference for it. I mean, unless you don’t, which is fine, I can… Well, not eat it, I hate dates, but I’m sure I can find some mangy child to give it to, or a dog, or something. Do you hate it? You hate it.”

Geralt picked up the tart and bit into it, giving Jaskier a raised eyebrow. It was honestly more of a miniature pie than a tart, the flaky crust filled with dates and prunes covered in a custardy filling, sweetened through with honey. The flavors burst across his tongue, the tart still warm. Jaskier must have picked it up at the market and come directly here to give it to him. Geralt swallowed the first bite, looking into Jaskier’s apprehensive face, and said, “Thanks.”

Jaskier visibly relaxed, shuffling onto the bench across from Geralt and beginning to relay the events of the morning market. Geralt hummed where he was meant to and sipped his watered down ale and ate his tart. If Jaskier noticed his absent mindedness, he said nothing.

Jaskier… knew what his favorite fruit was. The knowledge should not have come as a shock, Geralt knew. Jaskier was often getting him gifts - oil for Roach’s tack, new clothes when Geralt’s last threadbare shirt gave out, potion ingredients when he ran low. Sometimes he bought Geralt useless things, little bobbles or trinkets he saw that he thought Geralt might like or find amusing, and Geralt kept them safely at the bottom of his bag, or in his room at Kaer Morhen. He cherished those things, things that told him Jaskier thought about him when he wasn’t near. It was nice, to be thought of.

But for some reason this little gift felt different. Jaskier had known his favorite food, and Geralt had never told him. Dates weren’t particularly common in the North, and it was rare that they were far south enough to meet merchants who carried them up from Nilfgaard. Geralt could remember when he’d bought the jam, hoping it would last him a while, but he couldn’t recall a single other time in recent memory that he’d eaten dates, or even mentioned them. He didn’t tend to wallow on things that were unavailable to him.

His eyes lingered on Jaskier as he spun a tale about haggling in the square. No, Geralt didn’t make a habit of wishing for what he couldn’t have.

Still, there was a problem at hand, one he had to solve. Jaskier knew Geralt’s favorite food. He might know Geralt’s favorite everything. Did he know that Geralt’s favorite color was blue, the wide, free color of the sky on the first day of spring? Did he know that Geralt’s favorite thing to drink wasn’t wine or vodka, but warm honeyed milk like his mother made when he couldn’t sleep as a tiny child? He certainly knew that Geralt liked the scent of chamomile and sage best in his bathwater, and that he preferred cotton shirts over linen, and that he would pick a song with a sad ending over a happy one. If he’d been paying this much attention, there was probably quite a lot that Jaskier knew about him, without Geralt having said a word.

And he didn’t know a thing about Jaskier.

What was Jaskier’s favorite color? Was it blue, like the doublets he so often wore, or was that just to match his eyes? Did he really like wine the best, or did he just like it better than ale? What was his favorite season? His favorite weather? Did he go to Oxenfurt every winter because it was where he could find work, or did he prefer Novigrad, or Vizima? Geralt could tell how Jaskier was going to react every time someone recognized him on the street, anytime a young lad or lass winked at him, even what he might say if Geralt gave the right sort of hum. But he didn’t know much about him, at the end of the day.

He needed to find out. As they packed up their belongings and set out on the road once again, leaving the small town behind them, Geralt ruminated on what could be done to rectify this situation. He couldn’t very well just ask Jaskier about all these things. After all, Jaskier had figured it all out with nary a word from Geralt. He didn’t need to ask; he was paying attention. Which made Geralt’s chest feel oddly warm and heavy, knowing that Jaskier was watching him, paying heed to his reactions and filing them away. Maybe it should have felt invasive, to know that he was being read so easily without his knowing, but instead it just felt… nice. To be known.

He wanted Jaskier to feel known too. He wanted to know Jaskier.

He would start small. Jaskier had given him food, something he knew Geralt would like. It couldn’t be that difficult to figure out what Jaskier liked. Geralt could start bringing him small things, pass it off as returning the favor, and guage Jaskier’s reaction. It would be simple, he mused, eying Jaskier from atop Roach as they walked side by side. His hair was mussed slightly from sleep, still, and he hadn’t bothered to fix it before heading out for the day. No one to impress, Geralt guessed, just the two of them and the road. He liked Jaskier this way, less pinned up and proper, more open. Letting Geralt see him without all of his armor, because that’s what it was, as surely as the leather on Geralt’s back was his. Right now, Jaskier was an open book. All Geralt had to do was pay enough attention to read him.

*

It was not easy to figure out what Jaskier liked.

The problem, Geralt quickly found, was that Jaskier was enthusiastic about almost everything. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. When he disliked something, he made his distaste abundantly clear. He was dramatic, which should have made it even easier to determine what delighted him the most. Geralt expected that, when he found it, poetic stanzas would be flowing like wine from Jaskier’s tongue, praising whatever it was. He had no reason to expect Jaskier to be subtle about his preferences.

And he wasn’t. The issue was that he seemed to react with the exact same level of excitement about everything Geralt brought him. On the first day they arrived in a new town, Geralt went to the market and brought Jaskier a small basket of strawberries, which Jaskier enthused over for half the morning. Geralt was pleased. Maybe it had been that easy, and he’d intuitively known what Jaskier liked. Maybe he had unconsciously been paying attention all along. He congratulated himself on figuring out at least one piece of the puzzle, and began thinking about how he might approach the next step.

But then he unthinkingly bought Jaskier a few sweetbreads when he was out the next day getting lunch. He’d been getting himself some, he thought of Jaskier sitting in their shared room, composing a ballad about the hunt Geralt had been on the night previously. He’d brought him the extra meats, and Jaskier had nearly the same reaction. Gushing over the gift, thanking Geralt for thinking of him. Lamenting his own forgetfulness, for getting so caught up in his work that he would forget to eat, as Geralt expected he might have. And Geralt was confused, because he didn’t think a few offal from a market stall in a half pint city in Velen was what Jaskier would like. Certainly not something he could call a favorite.

But he’d reacted the same to the sweetbreads as the berries. So Geralt was back to square one.

He reevaluated his metrics. So Jaskier reacted that way to anything he liked, apparently. It was odd; Geralt had seen Jaskier enthusiastically dig into a wide variety of foods over the years, but he didn’t praise them and rave about them the way he had done the berries and the meats. So he must have legitimately enjoyed both of them more than he would any old dish. But neither of them had seemed to outweigh the other. He still didn’t know what Jaskier liked best.

Over the next several weeks of their travel, Geralt bought Jaskier enough tortas and crepes and stews that he knew it was boarding on suspicious behavior. If it was any other situation, any other two people, he knew it might come off like courtship. Every time he offered Jaskier some new morsel, he could feel the back of his neck grow hot at the implications. But Jaskier only ever grinned in delight at whatever Geralt offered him, flushed and pleased no more or less than he had been at all the others. If he suspected any sort of foul play, he never said anything.

It was infuriating. After three weeks of spending more coin that he cared to count at markets and roadside stalls and taverns, he was no closer to figuring out Jaskier’s favorite food than he had been at the outset. It all seemed to go over well, which was gratifying, but he couldn’t tell what Jaskier liked the most of it all. Maybe he just wasn’t as good at reading Jaskier as he thought. He’d thought he was a master of it, at this point - he could tell when Jaskier was tired during a performance, even though his smile never flagged; he could tell when Jaskier was being dramatic about an injury and when he was actually in pain; he could tell the difference between righteous anger versus petty versus hurt. In most respects he felt like Jaskier was an open book, but there was nothing in his reactions to Geralt’s gifts that said he was anything less than entirely pleased to receive them.

He was running out of ideas. Giving Jaskier gifts one at a time was clearly not working; either none of them were right, or Geralt was misremembering Jaskier’s enthusiasm for the ones in the past. He needed to give Jaskier a selection and see for himself what was best, side by side.

It took another week to plan, mostly due to location. They needed to stay in one place for a few days, so that Geralt could collect the things he would need, and it was rare that the two of them were in one town for more than a day. Large contracts were few and far between, and it never took Geralt more than a single night to clear out some ghouls or drowners from an area.

As luck would have it, however, they were only a few days out from Carreras. Geralt pointed them in that direction, claiming that they would likely be able to find multiple contracts in one place there, and that Jaskier could take a few days to play for their small selection of inns and taverns. It wasn’t entirely a lie; there probably would be more contracts posted in a larger settlement, which would mean a solid few jobs to refill Geralt’s pockets. He would need the extra coin to execute his plan.

The first two days of their stay were filled mostly with real work. The city had been having issues with contaminated water, which sent Geralt out to investigate all the wells, and by the time he found the drowner that had fallen into the water supply a full day had passed. He was able to fill another two contracts on their second day, but the triple confrontations over less than 48 hours left him feeling bruised and exhausted.

It was Jaskier who suggested it, in the end. Pulling a comb through Geralt’s hair as the witcher let himself soak in the bath, Jaskier said, “What if we stayed for an extra day or two? The crowds have been good, and Barclay - the innkeeper, I don’t know if you’ve spoken to him - he offered us a discount if I play tonight and tomorrow.” His hand fell to Geralt’s shoulder, warm and comforting. “You could… take a few days.”

It had been his plan to stay, but Geralt felt an ache behind his breastbone at Jaskier’s careful suggestion. Always trying to take care of him, as if Geralt were someone who needed protecting, someone who deserved something like a vacation. He didn’t think he did, but it was nice, as always, to think that Jaskier cared. “Hmm,” was all he said, a soft sound of agreement. His eyes slipped shut as he basked in the quiet content of Jaskier’s company, and they said nothing else on the matter.

The next day he felt rejuvenated, the burn of overexertion in his muscles faded after a hard night’s sleep. Jaskier had played after getting him out of the bath and settled into bed, but he’d returned later, smelling of sweat and rosemary and catgut. Geralt had slept well with his solid weight by his side, pressed into the too-slim bed.

He spent most of the day preparing. The market was busy and bursting when he found it in the afternoon, though not as packed as he was used to seeing in larger settlements like Novigrad. There was a bakery on the corner from which the rich scent of fresh bread spilled out into the square, and the people at the stalls were standing around amiably, chatting about local affairs and peddling their individual wares to one and other. It was a homey little trade network, and despite his strangeness, Geralt didn’t feel unwelcome.

He made several minor purchases before he found his way to the bakery. It wasn’t as crowded as he’d feared, and he waited until the one or two customers before him had made their way out. The woman working the counter was twig thin despite her occupation, thin blonde hair tied up away from her face and covered by a light cloth, probably to keep flour out of it. Her eyes were blue, pale as diamonds. Geralt couldn’t help but think that Jaskier’s were nicer.

He made her nervous, it was easy to see, but she quickly warmed to him when he told her what he was looking for. Whether it was his gold that excited her or his plan, he couldn’t say, but regardless she helped him pick out his desired items with enthusiasm.

“If you’re planning to use them later tonight, I can make up a basket and have it ready for you. So nothing goes cold,” she explained, her forearms resting on the counter. “The pies are really best that way.”

Geralt nodded, and handed over her coin.

Jaskier would be back soon from where he was playing the lunch crowd at one of the taverns. Geralt rushed back to their room and put the purchases he had with him at the bottom of his pack, a blanket spread over them. Jaskier returned not fifteen minutes later, flushed and grinning. A successful performance, then. Good. When Jaskier was in a good mood he was more amenable to doing what Geralt said. “When do you play this evening?” Geralt asked, not looking up from where he was cleaning his sword at the small table they’d been provided.

Jaskier set his lute case down gently against the wall and then flung off his doublet with much less care, flopping down on to the bed. Geralt forced himself to keep his eyes on his work, though the image that awaited him - Jaskier, spread out, his shirt falling open to reveal the smooth line of his throat and his sharp collar bones - burned against the back of his eyes anyways. “Not until nightfall,” Jaskier answered with a content sigh. “After the dinner crowd. Why? Do you have plans?”

“Do you remember where we stopped on the first day, the hill just before town? By the brook.” He set his steel sword aside and reached for the silver, which was the one that truly needed attention. So many contracts in a row had left her chipped in a few places, and dull all around. Geralt set his whetstone down, but didn’t draw it across the blade yet. Waiting for Jaskier’s answer. He felt his stomach twist with something like nerves, which was ridiculous. This wasn’t anything risky, anything that Jaskier would read into - probably. Probably.

“Sure,” Jaskier answered easily.

“Can you meet me there?” Geralt asked. “An hour or so before you have to play?”

He heard Jaskier sit up, could feel the bard looking at him curiously. His gaze warmed the side of Geralt’s face, and he refused to look up and meet those bright blue eyes. “Did something happen? Do we need to get out of town?”

Geralt rolled his eyes, amusement bubbling up within him. “No. Nothing bad. Just… meet me?”

Jaskier was silent for a long moment, long enough that Geralt gave up and turned to look at him. He was regarding Geralt with a curious expression, almost guarded. But all he said was, “Alright. I can do that.”

Geralt nodded, satisfied, and returned to his task.

*

He left before Jaskier, stating the need to drop by the herbalist's shop and that if he wasn’t back - as he didn’t intend to be - that Jaskier should go to the meeting place on his own. Geralt made his own way back to the bakery, where his basket of goods was waiting as promised. He tipped the girl well, and set out with his pack containing the blanket and other purchases on his shoulder, and the basket on his arm.

It was a nice evening, warm and thick with the last hints of summer. It would be fall soon; he could taste it in the faint hint of decay that lingered on his tongue whenever he took a deep breath of the air beyond the city. But for now it was still hot enough during the day that the evenings were comfortable. Geralt found his way back along the road to where they’d stopped to water Roach at the nearby stream, just before the landscape dropped down into the shallow valley that held the large town. He made his way off the path, far enough away that they wouldn’t be obvious from the road, to a raised patch of earth that looked down over the fields as they spread out below. It was a lovely sight, the landscape rich in the evening light, the dying sun casting the rooftops of the city in rich gold. Jaskier would appreciate the scenery, at least.

Geralt quickly set up, laying out the blanket and pulling out the supplies from the basket. He’d maybe gone slightly overboard. There was a meat pie, several stuffed rolls, a hearty cabbage stew in two small bowls kept covered by plates tied to them; a loaf of fresh rye bread, with cheese and jam and honey to go with it; berries and apples with cream; a plethora of desserts, including an entire apple pie, along with little marzipan candies and several little cakes. Two bottles of wine, one white, one red. As he laid out item after item, Geralt felt unease stir within him. It was too much, he realized, seeing it all together. That had been his goal, after all, to see Jaskier eat as many things as possible, to get a sense, at least, of where his preferences lay. But this was overwhelming. Jaskier would realize something was amiss. A picnic, laid out in perfect detail, in the warm light of the evening, fields spread out beyond them and the forest to their back. It was obviously, sickeningly romantic, he realized. So very obviously beyond what one might do to spend an hour eating dinner with a friend. Panic rose in his throat, choking him, and he grabbed one of the wine bottles, thinking to put it away. If he could put some of it back, maybe it wouldn’t look so much like--

“Geralt?”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, fighting the desire to curse, and turned around. He hoped none of his apprehension showed on his face.

Jaskier was a few feet away, carrying nothing but his lute on his back. He was looking down at the spread with a shocked expression, eyebrows pulled up nearly into his hairline and eyes open wide. “What’s… all this?” he asked, his gaze flickering back up to meet Geralt’s.

“Dinner,” Geralt grunted, putting the wine bottle down. In for a penny, he thought grimly.

He watched several different expressions flicker across Jaskier’s face, too quick to parse. For a moment Geralt thought he looked almost… sad, or maybe anxious, but then he broke into a wide grin. The honest delight pouring off of him made Geralt let out a slight sigh, relief blooming in his chest. “Oh, well isn’t this just wondrous,” Jaskier laughed. He pulled his lute from his shoulder and set it in the grass beside the blanket, and folded himself down amongst Geralt’s offerings. A hand reached up towards him. “Are you going to join me?” Jaskier asked, raising a playful eyebrow. Geralt grumbled, but carefully sat down next to the bard and began dishing out the food.

It was good, all of it, but Geralt hardly paid it any mind, focused entirely on Jaskier’s reactions. The constant flow of conversation was interrupted every time Jaskier took a bite of something new - “This is delicious, have you tried this yet?” and “We must find out what spices they used for this stew, it’s absolutely the best I’ve had in months” and “Geralt, where did you find marzipan? Look at these little things, the details are impressive.” Throughout it all, Geralt watched his face, listened to his words, paid attention to what he returned to and what he didn’t.

And by the end, he was ready to tear his hair out.

Jaskier seemed to enjoy everything. He finished every helping he took, praised every dish, thanked Geralt for each and every selection he’d made. Even with so many choices, it didn’t seem to matter. Jaskier liked them all, but Geralt couldn’t tell what he liked the best. Not the way Jaskier apparently could do for him.

Finally Jaskier flopped back into the grass, one hand on his stomach. “I don’t think I’ve been so full in years,” he groaned, staring up at the sky with heavy eyelids. “Probably since the last banquet I played at. You really outdid yourself, my dear.”

Fuck it. He had to ask. “Anything you liked in particular?”

Jaskier hummed, closing his eyes. “Mm, how could I choose? Everything was so lovely.”

Frustration clawed at him. Before he could stop himself, Geralt heard himself ask, “Do you even have a favorite food?”

Immediately he clamped his mouth shut, jaw clenched hard. He hadn’t meant to ask that. He wasn’t supposed to, he was supposed to--

“Oh, I don’t know if I have a favorite favorite,” Jaskier droned, blinking his eyes open to peer up at the sky again, this time with a thoughtful expression on his face. “There’s just such a range, you know. I suppose when it comes to desserts, there’s these custards that they make in Toussaint, have you had them? Tiny things, very sweet, with saffron and cinnamon. Delicious. We’ll have to get some next we go so far south.”

Geralt was hardly listening, even though he knew that had been the entire point. He’d failed. Jaskier had told him the answer to his question, which meant he was never going to have the chance to prove that he could learn Jaskier as Jaskier had learned him. He couldn’t prove his friendship, his affection, through his actions. Jaskier would never be interested in Geralt the way that Geralt was in him, but he’d hoped he could at least let some of his true feelings bleed into his actions, into the careful way he paid attention. Jaskier had already done so as nothing more than Geralt’s friend. Now he would never be able to pay him back in kind, not truly.

Jaskier turned his head to look at him, brow furrowed curiously. He must have been silent for too long. Geralt quickly schooled his features into neutrality, but some of his distress must have peaked through, because Jaskier frowned at him. Geralt could feel the incoming conversation before Jaskier even opened his mouth. He tried to get ahead of it, talking over the beginning of Jaskier’s soft inquiry. “We should head back,” he grunted, rising abruptly to his feet. “You have to play.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier said, in a tone that made Geralt’s stomach fill with dread. That was Jaskier’s no nonsense, absolutely-you-will-not-be-getting-out-of-this tone. He turned back towards Jaskier, his shoulders slumping in defeat. The bard had clamoured to his feet when Geralt stood up, and was now stepping around the blanket towards him. Geralt wanted to retreat further, to shove the remains of the picnic back in his bag and hide the evidence, but he knew it wouldn’t save him. He was being too obvious, and Jaskier knew him too well.

The bard eyed him suspiciously, but there was a note of concern in the way his brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?” Jaskier asked, this time a bit softer. “I thought we were having a lovely time.”

“We… It was. It was nice. I just think it’s time to go.” Jaskier gave him a shrewd look. Not buying it then. Geralt sighed. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s not you.”

“I certainly hope not,” Jaskier chuckled. The sound was thin, like that was exactly what he had been worried about. “You’ve been acting strange for weeks. I wondered if-- Well. But if it’s not about me, it’s something else? Are you trying to butter me up for something? Is there a big scary adventure you’re about to tell me I’m not allowed to come on?” His gaze turned sharp again, but this time there was something like fear underneath it. “Are you leaving me behind?”

“No,” Geralt said quickly, his hands rising in a placating manner. “I’m not leaving you, Jaskier, I swear it. It’s just…” He petered off, unsure how to continue. How to explain.

“It’s just what?” Jaskier demanded. “Why have you been so damnably nice to me lately? Are you dying?” His eyes widened. “Am I dying?”

“No, Jaskier, of course not, just--”

“Then why the gifts?” Jaskier spread his hands around their little picnic, an easy example of exactly what he was talking about.

Geralt’s resistance shattered. “I was trying to figure you out,” he snapped. “I don’t know you, not like you know me. You know everything about me. You pay attention, even when I don’t say anything. You knew I liked dates because I bought jam months ago. You know me better than anyone, but I don’t know you. I don’t know what your favorite food is, or your favorite color, or what you like to wear, or what your favorite kinds of songs are, or your favorite season. I’ve been looking. I tried to figure it out, I tried to bring things I thought you would like and see what you liked best, but it seems like you like everything. You don’t always… say what you mean. I can’t tell when you’re faking and when you’re not.” Geralt was tense, fists clenched at his sides, jaw hard. He knew he looked angry. Jaskier probably thought he was mad at him, for some reason, but all Geralt felt was fear. He wasn’t good enough. Jaskier had to see that now. Geralt had known him for years, and he couldn’t even say whether Jaskier preferred blueberry jam to strawberry. What kind of friend was he?

A hand took his, gently pulling his fingers apart. He jerked his head over to stare as Jaskier stepped forward to slip their fingers together, squeezing softly. When he looked up, Jaskier was regarding him fondly.

“My favorite color is yellow,” he said. “I wear the silk doublets a lot, because they’re in fashion, but I prefer a linen shirt because it’s not as sweaty. I like songs about adventure, but books about romance.” His other hand lifted to brush a bit of hair away from where it was stuck to Geralt’s warm cheek. His expression was difficult to look at, earnest and painfully affectionate. Geralt was trapped by those blue eyes, like falling into a clear sky. “And my favorite season is spring. You could have just asked.”

Geralt swallowed. “You never had to. I just didn’t want you to… I don’t want you to think that I don’t pay attention.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said, laughing a little, “I know you’re not always paying attention. I’m talking constantly. There’s a lot to keep up with. I know you tune me out most of the time, it’s fine.”

“I’m still paying attention to you,” Geralt insisted, because it was important, critical that Jaskier know that even when he wasn’t listening, he was still attuned to Jaskier. His presence, his voice, the sound of his heartbeat always in the back of Geralt’s mind. Whenever the bard was around he could scarcely focus on anything else.

“Knowing my favorite color or food or what have you isn’t what proves that you’re my friend,” Jaskier said, still smiling. “You know me. It’s alright.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me if you didn’t like the things I brought you?” Geralt asked, feeling unmoored. “You acted like you loved everything.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, but his chuckle was nervous. The hand he held in Geralt’s was sweaty, and his heartbeat, always in Geralt’s ears, was a bit fast. “Well, they were from you,” he said with a half shrug. “Of course I loved them.”

“But they weren’t--”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jaskier interrupted, soft but firm. There was a slight, bitter twist in his lips that Geralt wanted to wipe away. “I just… like to know that you’re thinking of me.”

They were standing so close together. Jaskier’s hand was in his, palm to sweaty palm. They were nearly of a height, but Jaskier was just the tiniest bit shorter, so he had to tilt his chin up ever so slightly to meet Geralt’s eyes. Now it was Jaskier who was tense, his shoulders squared as if to absorb a blow. He nervously dragged his teeth over his lower lip, leaving the hint of an impression in the soft flesh. Geralt watched raptly, swallowing against the urge to soothe the spot with his tongue. “I’m always thinking of you,” he finally said.

Jaskier took a shuddering breath, and Geralt watched as his eyes dropped down to flicker over Geralt’s mouth before they dragged back up to meet his gaze again. “When I saw all of it spread out like that, I thought maybe it meant something,” he said, nearly a whisper.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, helplessly. He lifted the hand not clutched in Jaskier’s toward his neck, tracing his fingers along the delicate line of Jaskier’s throat. Jaskier’s other hand came up to fist in Geralt’s shirt, inhaling sharply at his touch. It was an intoxicating sound, making his head spin more than the bottle of wine they’d consumed between them.

“Did it mean something more?” Jaskier pleaded, his eyes bright. His hand clutched at the fabric over Geralt’s heart, the fingers between his own tightening in a deathgrip. “Did it?”

“Yes,” Geralt said, and leaned forward to kiss him.

Jaskier gasped at the first press of their lips, opening for Geralt easily and without hesitation. He tasted like sweet white wine and meat pie and marzipan, and Geralt greedily mined the flavors from Jaskier’s tongue. He tried to pour all of the things he found himself unable to say into the press of his teeth against Jaskier’s lip, into the flick of his tongue against the roof of his mouth and the way his fingers tangled delicately in Jaskier’s hair. Jaskier gave as good as he got, humming encouragingly into Geralt’s mouth and hauling him closer by the hand in his shirt. He didn’t release Geralt’s hand from where he held it in his own, and Geralt made no move to extract himself.

Finally, Jaskier pulled back, panting against Geralt’s lips as he set their foreheads together. His eyes were closed, and Geralt watched them flicker open, savoring the dazed expression on his face. “I think I’m going to be late to play that show,” Jaskier rasped, and a thrill went through Geralt at the sound. And indeed, the sun had begun to set, dipping over the edge of the mountains in the far, far distance, coloring the air around them in rich purples and reds. Jaskier’s face was soft and ethereal in the glow, and Geralt never wanted to let him go, never wanted to leave this moment.

“Why spring?” Geralt found himself asking.

Jaskier smiled, and his face softened even further. “Because it’s when I get to see you again, of course. You should have known all along; you’re my favorite.”

It was a corny sentiment, and by Jaskier’s grin he knew it, but Geralt couldn’t help the way it warmed him up from the inside out, radiating out from within him and making his lips pull into an answering grin. He leaned in and kissed Jaskier again, and again, and a third time, in quick succession, each more soft and lingering than the last. When he was finished Jaskier had that dazed looking expression back on his face, and Geralt decided it was a good look on him. “Want to know something?” he asked, teasing. Jaskier nodded, the hand on Geralt’s chest snaking up to wrap around his neck, holding the both of them close. Geralt leaned in to press his lips just behind Jaskier’s ear, to press his secret against the soft skin there.

“You’re my favorite too,” he rumbled, and Jaskier laughed, bright and joyful, and both of them knew that it was true.

~

This is my last s&s fic!! So excited to be done with the challenge, and happy that I was able to finish! Thank you to all those who encouraged me over the last two months, your kind words and support mean more than I could say <3

tag list: @llamasdumpsterfire, @theamazingbard

[missdawnandherdusk]

Isn’t It Delicate?

Draco X Gryffindor!Reader

Part One    Part Two    Part Three    Part Four    

Part Five    Part Six    Part Seven    Part Eight

Summary: Will Draco find the courage to ask you out? And what happens when you two have class or lunch together? How will your worlds collide? 

A/N: More of a intermediate chapter but ya know it’s still cute and a bit saucy toward the end. I love you guys so so much! Please don’t stop with your comments likes and reblogs, they mean so much to me you have no idea. Also don’t be afraid to come and chat! I’m mostly always here. Love you guys. Stay safe and creative. 

Tags: @un-limiteddd @geekysimmerthings @coffee-addicti @ilikestuffproductions @msmcsmutt @ravn-87 @artemismohr18 @whygz @crazywritingbug @dolphincommander @bisexualbumblebeesstuff @fuzzy-panda @bitemebro522 @zombiesnips-blog @jillanaholland @shookyungsoo @savingdraco @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @akari180 @slytherin-emerald @chaotic-good-gemini @memalfoy-spidey @theres-a-dog-outside-omg​ @queenfeatherwings​ @fanficflaneuse​ @go-whovian-universe​ @spicyshenanigans @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise​ @dietkiwi​ @katsukink​ @takemetothekingdom​

I was glad that Hermione was my partner in Herbology. I had forgotten to go over today’s lesson last night and I wasn’t ahead or prepared as I normally was.

“This is the only time I letting you slide on this.” Hermione warned. “Draco or not, you still need to keep up on your studies,”

I nodded and watched as she handled the flutterby bush, pruning it successfully. I followed her suit, mimicking exactly what she did and reaped the same results. Professor Sprout seemed pleased with both of us and awarded Gryffindor ten points for each of us.

I watched Harry and Ron struggle across from us, and giving in, I went over to help. Harry’s eyes met mine and something passed between us: a truce of sorts.

With the end of herbology came lunch: when I would see Draco again. The three seemed to realize that.

“Are you going to sit with him then?” Hermione asked innocently.

“I’m... not entirely sure. I mean we do have Creatures together after so... maybe? If he asks?” I offered. “He could always sit with us,” I commented.

I could tell that both Ron and Harry had something to say about that but refrained from it.

“He’d be more welcome at our table than I would be with the Slytherins,” I pointed out. “And I’d rather not get into it again with Pansy,”

They both muttered agreements and I felt that it was a small step in the right direction. 

“Has he asked you yet?” Ron changed the topic. “To the ball, ya know?”

“No,” I sulked. “I think he tried this morning though,”

“What? Did he chicken out?” Harry snickered.

“Yes, I think he took a page from your book Harry,” I smirked. “Are you ever going to ask anyone?”

Harry and Ron both looked down, grumbling their answers.

We entered the Great Hall that was buzzing with the usual chatter. AS every year, it was decorated for the upcoming holidays that held a certain warmth and excitement to them.

My eyes scanned for Draco, not seeing him. Feeling a bit defeated, I sat at the Gryffindor table, half-heartedly making my way through the warm soup that was served for the chill of the day.

________________________

Draco almost stumbled into the Great Hall, his History of Magic class having run late because apparently the goblin uprising was more importing than a time schedule or a bell.

And he saw you, sitting at the Gryffindor table, laughing with your friends as if you didn’t have a care in the world, despite what was hovering over them both. He paused a moment, watching you before your gaze followed Ron’s and your eyes met his, an amused smirk on your face; caught staring.

“Are you okay?” You mouthed.

He nodded and recovered, making his way over to you, his nerves growing with every step. He was determined to ask you to the Yule Ball if it was the last thing that he did today.

He could do this. What were you going to do? Say no?

Well, you could totally do that and well, he’d have to accept it, but you wouldn’t say no would you?

As he neared your table, you stood, untucking yourself from the bench and facing him. 

“Hi,” You breathed out. “You’re late,” There was mischief in your eyes.

“Binns,” It was more than enough of an explanation as your face scrunched up in pity. 

“Sorry,” You sympathized. “Another goblin war then?”

He nodded; words caught on his tongue.

“Do you want to sit with us for lunch?” You looked to him earnestly, eyebrows raised.

“Yes, but... before that.” He grabbed your hand. “I... I wanted to ask this morning but didn’t.”

He took a deep breath, distracted by you catching your bottom lip between your teeth. Did you know you were trying to kill him when you did that?

“Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?”

A laughed bubbled through your lips as you lit up.

“Yes, of course I’ll go with you,” You threw a side glance to Ron and Harry, and he felt as if he was missing something.

You didn’t let go of his hand as the two of you sat at the Gryffindor table and had lunch together. His nerves were eating him on the inside; he didn’t belong at this table... he was hated at this table if anywhere.

Yet, with you by his side, no one said a word to him that had malice intent behind it. Instead the conversation shifted and flowed between classes, and homework, the upcoming Ball, the Triwizard cup.

He didn’t speak up as much as he would have in his group of friends, but he eagerly watched you animate the conversation. It was different, watching you up close, and being a part of your own little world here at school.

Every once in a while, you’d squeeze his hand and pull him from his thoughts, or simply reassure him.

Traitor, his father’s voice hissed.

He had a sinking feeling in his chest when he thought about his father and that no doubt, he already knew about what he had been doing and that he had been with you, defending and choosing you over all else. It was a box of anxiety that he kept locked tight to worry about at a later date.

Walking down to Care for Mythical Creatures, he still held your hand, and, in the snow, you huddled closer to him, fearing the cold around you.

“Afraid of a little chill?” He teased.

You gave him a sharp look, your teeth all but chattering and your nose and cheeks flushed red.

Be a gentleman, His mother scolded.

He stopped you, tugging your hand and momentarily set his bag down and slipped his robe off, draping it around your shoulders, all the while you protested.

“I-I’m okay,” You shivered. “You don’t have t-too.” “Wear it,” He nearly ordered. “I’ll be okay. I’m used to the cold,”

You pouted a moment but gave in, slipping your arms into his Slytherin robe and almost curled up into it. He didn’t want to admit it, but he loved seeing you in Slytherin colors.

“You’re staring,” The quip left your lips as you took his hand wand continued with the rest of the students down to Hagrid’s.

“You look good in Slytherin,” He retorted, smirking when you turned a deeper shade of red. 

_________________________

In Creatures, I all but huddled into Draco, feeding off of his warmth, now that mid-winter was approaching quickly the weather turned for the worse. His arm was around my shoulders, shielding me from the cold, rubbing now and again when I shivered too much for his liking.

I could see the glances exchanged between the Gryffindor’s and Slytherin’s at the two of us together—and me in his robe no doubt, but I was too keen on listening to Hagrid and trying to get something (anything) useful from it.

Getting nothing from Hagrid’s lesson, my mind drifted to the upcoming exams on Friday and I zoned out, trying to figure out the best study plan on the subjects that I was struggling with, moving Herbology to the top of the list since I had missed today’s lesson’s notes and had to do double tonight. No doubt Potions should be high on the list, next to the dates and people of History of Magic, but I had that subject understood pretty well—save the dates.

“Maybe he isn’t too bad,” Harry muttered as we entered the Gryffindor common room. 

“It was nice of him to give you his robe wasn’t it,” Hermione sighed dreamily.

My cheeks flushed again as I stayed quiet.

The week passed and I honestly don’t remember most of it. It was hell: studying, working on essays, the weather not letting up. I was shivering more than not, and it was hard to concentrate. It left me in the warmth of my room, dreading to go anywhere in the drafty castle other than class and some meals.

~

Y/n,

You haven’t been to dinner in three days, please come down and eat with me. I’ll meet you outside your common room in ten minutes.

I’m worried about you, 

Draco, ~

The letter came Thursday evening as I was once again reading through the Goblin Revolutions trying to keep the dates straight. I had most of them down but kept mixing up a few of them and no matter what I did, I couldn’t get them straight.

Giving up, I closed the books and ordered my notes before slipping on a sweater and changing my socks before slipping down to the common room where Draco was waiting.

“You need to eat,” He scolded, handing me his scarf, knowing that I’d be cold.

“I’m fine,” I mumbled, wrapping it around my neck, reveling in its warmth and how it smelled strongly of him.

“No, you’re not. Now stop being stubborn. You can’t study all the time. You need breaks Y/n,” He sounded truly concerned, his fingers weaving through mine.

“I can’t fail these tests Draco,” I insisted, feeling warm with the seconds that passed. 

“And you’re not going to. But you have to take care of yourself too.”

I huffed as we entered the Great Hall. It was lulled and almost silent, many students studying or overworked from the exams already taken.

“Hey Malfoy!”

I stiffened as I recognized the voice. It was Pansy.

We both turned, his grip on my hand tightened and I wasn’t sure if it was in reassurance or if he was holding me back. It could have been both.

“Still hanging with her I see,” Pansy sneered. “I don’t see why you bother. We all know how this is going to end. You’ll realize she’s not worth it and this madness will end.”

“I thought I told you to leave her alone,” Draco hissed.

“What? She can’t take a little teasing? Isn’t that what the two of you always did? She didn’t mind it then...” Pansy grinned wickedly. “Why should she care if I do it?

“Because you don’t hold a candle to who Draco is,” I snapped.

“Oh, and you’re so confident that you know who he is?” She laughed something that sounded like a hyena. “You don’t know anything about him princess. Your mommy hid you away from the real world for too long.”

“She took me away from freaks like you. I guess she didn’t want me to grow up to be a bitch,” I sneered, and Draco chuckled beside me, tugging on my hand.

“Let’s go,” He murmured.

My eyes met his and I could see the same fire behind them. He wanted to lash out as much as I did, but something stopped him, and I wasn’t sure what it was...

I took a deep cleansing breath and nodded. She wasn’t worth the time to ruin my night with Draco.

We took our seats at the Gryffindor table, far from Pansy and her posse and had a quiet dinner for once. We only exchanged a few words, talking about our two exams tomorrow. My thoughts resided with what Pansy had said.

After dinner, Draco led me once more to the Astronomy Tower where we watched the stars side by side. I was in his robe again, shielded against the chill that the night brought.

“You know she’s wrong,” Draco piped up. “I’m not going to leave you.”

My eyes didn’t leave the vastness of the sky. Sometimes it was nice to imagine words like that were real, and promises could be kept...

“Y/n,” He pressed.

“What if she’s right?” I mumbled. “I... I didn’t grow up like you did... I don’t know you that well, other than...” I shrugged and gestured vaguely.

“What do you want to know?” He pulled me closer and spun me so that we were face to face.

“I don’t know.” I sighed. “What does it mean to know a person?” My hands wrapped themselves around my midriff.

Draco rolled his eyes and tilted my chin up with his hand. My eyes met his.

“My birthday is June 5th,” He smiled, his face pensive. “I never really had a favorite color... my middle name is Lucius,”

I giggled into the back of my hand, giving into his attempt to cheer me up. 

“What, is that funny?” He raised an eyebrow.

“A little bit.” I admitted. “It must be a pure-blood thing. My middle name is a family name too.”

“Oh? Would you care to tell me?”

“Nope,”

“And why not?” He almost pouted. “Am I not allowed to know?” He shifted so that I was pressed against the window ledge and he was a few inches before me, his hands on my waist.

“I mean, sure,” I drawled.

“Well?” He asked, drawing closer to me so that I could feel the warmth of his breath fan across my face; electricity flowed between us again, the same nervous potential energy.

“It’s not Magdalene is it?” He asked, his lips brushing against mine.

It was a good thing that I was leaning against the window ledge, because I was all but putty in his hands.

“No,” I breathed out, my hands running up his arms as my fingers laced themselves together behind his neck.

“Won’t you tell me?” Another soft fleeting kiss. 

I shook my head, my voice gone with his kiss. 

“Please?”

His lips captured mine before I could answer. The kiss lingered and grew to something stronger. One of his hands left my waist and caressed my cheek before sliding into my hair, cradling my head. My hand followed suit, running into his hair, pulling him closer.

A gentle gasp had his hot breath mixing with mine because he used his hand that resided on my waist to pull me flush against him before lifting me so that I was propped up on the ledge. His hand moved to support my back, but I wasn’t afraid to fall with him near. And despite the chill of the air, cold was the last thing that I was in that moment.

As the kiss deepened, I made a soft sound, my hand trailing down his shoulder and chest. He hummed a response, pulling away softly.

“This is coercion,” I murmured into his lips. He was so close; it was hard to find a place in my mind where he didn’t exist.

“Is it?” He mused, pressing his lips back to mine, picking up where we left off.

“Yes,” I breathed out, cupping his face, my thumb stroking his cheek softly.

“Is it working then?” He chuckled.

I pressed my lips back to his, kissing he deeply for a moment more before totally giving up and giving into him.

“Elizabeth,” I whispered.

.

.

Part 10

[thecassadilla]

Don’t Look Back

Pairing: Kristanna

Rated: M

Word Count: 2,945/AO3

Summary: After their separation is prophesied by a strange woman, Kristoff goes on a quest to the underworld to save Anna.

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! This is my contribution for Kristanna Week Day 5 - Blue! I wasn’t originally going to write a spin on the Orpheus and Eurydice myth for this day, but the idea came to me last night and I just had to write it out. I also apologize if I messed up any of the mythology, it’s been nearly 10 years since I last read this story and I kind of adapted it to suit the needs of the fic. I’m not really crazy about it because it’s a little different than all of the other stuff I’ve written but what am I gonna do? I hope you enjoy it despite it's weirdness!! (Sorry for all the asterisks, tumblr is finnicky with language and tags) *Please note that this fic is rated M for light s*xual content and temporary character d*ath*

There were few things rarer in the world than true love, and Anna and Kristoff had been lucky enough to find it with each other. In the beginning, they hid their feelings, and for far too long, they danced around the possibility of being together. When they finally came together, what grew between them was beautiful and rare.

In no time at all, they were blissfully married, and spending nearly every waking moment together. On this particular day, they’d gone for a stroll in the park, as the weather was getting colder by the day, and soon being outside would become unbearable. They walked hand in hand, bundled up in their winter attire, and walked along a wooded path. For such a brisk day, there were plenty of people out and about - children and families, joggers, dog walkers. They chatted about their upcoming plans and current events as they walked, damp leaves crunching beneath their shoes. Just as they were getting ready to leave, a wiry grey-haired woman approached them.

“There is very bad energy here,” the old woman warned, eyes widened with fear. “You will not last together.”

“Excuse me?” Kristoff asked, wrapping a protective arm around Anna’s shoulders.

“You’ll be torn apart,” she hissed and waved her hands around manically, before wandering up to another unsuspecting group of people.

“What does she know?” Anna scoffed, rolling her eyes.

He wasn’t the superstitious type, but there was something about what the woman said that managed to rub him the wrong way. “That was...strange.”

She looked up at him, and frowned. “Are you actually worried?”

“No,” he lied, though it was useless - Anna was exceptional at reading his face.

“Nothing can tear us apart, my love,” she promised him, stroking his cheek with her soft, delicate fingers. “Nothing can come between us. Especially not a crazy old lady in a park.”

She’d said it with such confidence that he was able to temporarily brush off the overwhelming sense of doom that the old woman had managed to stir up in him. It wasn’t until they got home that evening that the anxiety returned. He normally kept a calm and level head, but losing Anna was his greatest fear and the sheer thought of it was enough to make his stomach turn. He was quiet throughout dinner as she blathered away and she didn’t bring up his unusual silence until they were lying on the couch.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he sighed.

“Something is bothering you.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to,” she assured him. “But I’m all ears if you change your mind.”

“It’s not a big deal, I just need to relax.”

“How about a bath?” she suggested, squeezing his arm. “I can’t think of anything more relaxing than that.”

He smiled at the thought of it and just a little while later, they were submerged in a tub of warm water and bubbles, her bare back pressed up against his solid chest. He pressed kisses to her neck and her ear, caressing her breasts with one hand and slipping his other hand to tease the sensitive area between her legs all while she giggled and moaned from his touch. They moved from the tub to their bed after they pruned up, eager to please each other and put the stress of the day behind them. It was so easy for him to get lost in her bright blue eyes as she looked up at him with adoration, biting her lip and digging her nails into his back as he thrust into her.

Long after they were both satisfied, he cradled her in his arm and she rested her head on his shoulder, drawing lazy circles on his bare chest.

“I hope you feel better now,” she mumbled. “Because I know I do.”

“I do,” he confirmed, pressing a kiss to her hairline. “Taking a bath together was a great idea.”

“We should do it more often,” she smiled, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “You should get some sleep.”

He watched as her eyes fluttered closed and her body relaxed against his, and he sighed contently, closing his own eyes and drifting away.

He didn’t remember waking up the following morning, but the sunlight streaming in through their curtains had created a weird, hazy effect. Just as he had expected, she was still lying next to him, practically glowing in the morning light.

“I have to go,” she said suddenly.

“You should stay,” he whispered in her ear, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close.

She managed to free herself from his grasp and turned to face him, dragging her hand from his face to his chest and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “You know that I have to go, but I’ll be back soon and we can pick up from where we left off.”

After one last passionate kiss, she crawled out of bed and he propped himself up on his elbows, watching as she padded across the bedroom floor. She looked back to give him a flirtatious smile before closing the bathroom door. He didn’t even know where she had to go, but with a grin of his own, he flopped back onto the pillows and tossed his arm over his face, wondering how he’d gotten so lucky.

Until she didn’t come home.

Though their separation had been prophesied by the lady in the park, his heart was shattered and he was overcome with grief - god, the grief was unbearable. He’d lost his beautiful wife, the most important person in his life, the person he truly loved and who loved him back, unconditionally. He cried over her pale body for days, wishing that his tears would bring her back but knowing deep down that his sadness had no power in determining her fate.

But, he’d heard of someone who did have that kind of power - the god of the underworld, Hades, who had a penchant for collecting souls. If the mythology was true, then there had to be a way to find the underworld and convince Hades that Anna needed to be earthside with him. They belonged together, and there was no one - human or god - who could tell him otherwise.

He did as much research as he could, scouring books and maps, trying to figure out a way to get to the underworld - to get Anna back. He didn’t care how far he had to travel, or whether it was by land or by sea, but he had to get to her.

So he did, setting off on a long journey across the world before finally coming across the dark cave that had been described in every piece of literature he’d gotten his hands on. A discarded boat on the banks of the river attracted his attention, and he climbed in, picking up the ore in his hands and rowing towards the cave. As he rowed, the water beneath the boat changed from translucent and blue to an oily, black sludge.

When he finally descended into the dark cavern, he found that he was no longer rowing the boat, but that control of the water had been taken over by a force behind him. He turned around and there was a tall, gangly man standing at the back of the boat, guiding them through the rough waters. He could tell from first glance that the man was not human, but that was to be expected - he was going to the underworld, after all. He’d read about this particular man; a ferryman who escorted the souls of the d*ceased to the underworld, though he certainly wasn’t escorting the d*ad in this case.

The journey to the underworld was a long and dangerous one, and he knew they had reached a crucial area when a fog began to form across the sides of the cavern - souls. Everything that surrounded them was d*ad; shriveled leaves and withered trees shrouded in darkness. Finally, the boat collided with a dock and Kristoff turned around to find that the ferryman was gone. He took a deep breath before climbing out of the boat, more determined than ever to find Hades and bring his wife home.

Being surrounded by death created an unsettling, eerie feeling. Kristoff could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he wandered aimlessly through the darkness, surrounded by the foggy mist. Despite the fact that he was most definitely alone, he didn’t feel alone. He felt as if he were walking along a busy sidewalk in a major city, dodging tourists and workers, rushing to their destination.

Finally, he came upon a looming, black castle and he knew that he had made it to his own destination. With all of the determination that he could muster up, he marched toward it; through the gates, down the cobblestone path, and into the palace that belonged to the god of the underworld. Hades had a bride of his own, and together they sat in matching thrones at the end of the long hallway.

“You’re not welcome in the underworld, mortal,” Hades’ threatening voice boomed.

Kristoff was not going to take no for an answer; he hadn’t made it this far to give up. “I’m here for my wife and I refuse to leave without her.”

“You don’t get to make demands.”

“I need my wife,” he pleaded. “I can’t live without her. I won’t leave without her.”

The threatening creature moved to stand from his throne, but his wife held out her arm, which caused him to pause. She leaned toward him, her long, dark tresses moving in a fluid motion with her body. Her hand flexed over the distance between her mouth and his ear as she whispered to him. Kristoff gulped, unsure of what her actions meant, though he hoped it was an act of mercy.

When she finally pulled away, Hades mischievously narrowed his eyes. “How about we make a deal?”

“Anything,” Kristoff blurted desperately.

“You may have your wife back,” Hades offered, “But, you may not see her until you return to your realm. You will be guided by the ferryman and she'll be in your boat, and once you’ve reached the earthside, she’s yours. If you look back at her before you’ve reached the earthside, then she stays in the underworld permanently.”

“Deal,” he answered without hesitation.

When he blinked, he was back in the boat. He didn’t remember leaving the castle or walking back through the depths of the underworld. He was petrified to look anywhere but straight ahead, and when the boat started moving, he called out to her. “Anna, are you here?”

Miraculously, she responded. “Yes, honey, I’m here.”

Hearing her voice nearly caused him to combust - god, how he missed the sound of her voice. It was almost enough for him to lose control and turn around. “I need to see you.”

“Don’t turn around,” Anna begged. “If you look back at me, then I can’t come home with you. Don’t look back.”

“How can I trust that this isn’t a trick?” he cried. “I need to know that you’re here.”

“I’m here,” she promised. “Keep your eyes closed until it’s safe.”

“How will I know when it’s safe?”

“I’ll tell you. Don’t open them until I say so, okay? Promise me that you won’t open your eyes until I tell you to.”

“I promise,” he agreed, trembling from the stress. He closed his eyes, unsure of what he would do if he lost her yet again. The one thing he was certain of was that he couldn’t live without her. If he had to take drastic measures to ensure they would be together, then he would do so.

For a long time, the boat ride was quiet. In the short span of time that he’d spent in the underworld, he managed to forget how long and treacherous the journey there was. It was difficult to resist the temptation of turning around and checking to make sure that the god of death had made good on his promise, that the woman he loved was actually in the boat with him.

After what felt like an eternity, she spoke again. “We’re almost there, but don’t look back yet.”

“Okay,” he said, hardly able to hear her over the sound of his pounding heart.

Suddenly, a pair of arms came down around his neck, and soft lips were pressing a kiss to his cheek. He didn’t dare to open his eyes - he couldn’t risk it. If this was some kind of test or trick from the god of the underworld and he opened his eyes, she’d be gone for good.

“You can open your eyes,” she said, pressing her cheek against his. “We’re safe.”

“Are you sure?”

“We’re back on earth,” she assured him. “We’re here, together. I’m alive.”

“Are you sure?” he repeated, his voice strained. “Because if you’re not sure, we’re both going to end up back in the underworld.”

“Touch me,” she begged, freeing her grasp from his neck and bringing his arm up to her face. “It’s me. I’m real.”

Through his touch, he recognized her features; her perfectly smooth skin, the slope of her petite nose, and her plump, kissable lips. “It’s really you?”

“It’s me,” she confirmed with a sniffle. “You can look.”

He slowly blinked his eyes open and the first thing that he noticed was that the water beneath the boat had transformed from black sludge to clear and blue. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see strands of her brilliant red hair, and he heaved a sigh of relief; she was here. He hadn’t been tricked by Hades.

She climbed onto his lap and cupped his jaw with her hands before leaning her forehead against his. “You saved me.”

His arms reflexively wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, and he momentarily forgot how to breathe; she was alive, and he was touching her, and god, she was even more gorgeous than he remembered. “Oh, Anna, I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” she whimpered, tears cascading down her cheeks. “So much.”

He could feel a lump growing in his throat as he fought to hold back his own tears. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

“Good,” she sobbed, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He placed a hand on the back of her head, and gently rubbed her back, the boat bobbing from side to side beneath them. When she finally looked up at him with reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks, she asked, “Can we go home now?”

And then he awoke with a start - he was in their bedroom, unsure of if he had ever really left it. Was it really possible that he dreamt the entire thing? He wasn’t sure - it had felt so real.

Anna was leaning over him, brushing his hair out of his face. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re okay?”

“Of course I’m okay,” she laughed. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

He blinked rapidly as he looked around the room, and sure enough, they were still tangled up in their sheets like they had been when they fell asleep the night before. He could feel her body pushed up against him and he knew she was real, but he couldn’t shake the nightmare that had plagued him a few moments prior.  “I don’t know...I think I had a bad dream.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“You d*ed,” he answered shakily. “And I went to the underworld to save you.”

“Oh,” she said, furrowing her eyebrows together. “Did you?”

“I did.”

“That’s good,” she smiled. “You’re a hero.”

“It felt so real, though. It was so vivid, and colorful, and...real. I don’t even know where the entire underworld thing came from - I haven’t read anything related to mythology since I was in, like, high school.”

“Our dreams don’t always make sense,” she assured him. “Last night I dreamt that I was late to take a test, which is funny because I haven’t taken a test since I was in college.”

“It’s just...I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, Anna, I really don’t.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that because I’m not going anywhere. And if I do die first, I’m going to come back and haunt you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” he chuckled. “I think that lady in the park yesterday really freaked me out.”

“Oh, you’re gonna get a kick out of this; there was an article about her in the local paper this morning - she got arrested for harassing people in the park. It’s not the first time she’s been arrested for it, either.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah, I can even show you the article.” She moved to grab her phone, but he placed his hand over her arm, stopping her.

“It’s okay, I believe you,” he said in a low voice, diverting his eyes away from her.

“It’s really bothering you, huh?”

“A little,” he confessed with a sigh. “It’s such a scary thought.”

“I promise, I’m not going anywhere.” She smiled coyly before sliding her leg over his waist and pushing herself on top of him, so they were lying chest to chest. “Even if you change your mind and decide that you want to get rid of me.”

He reached up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I definitely don’t want to do that.”

Her lips ghosted against his as she whispered, “Then we have nothing to worry about.”

[pergaias]

a small miracle ; a short story

i wrote a short story about medieval lesbians for school and decided to put it here to prove ( to myself ) that i’m a Writer™ and not just someone who uses tumblr to procrastinate :)))))))

it’s not my best writing by any means ( some will argue that impossible for anything i write to be bad but i respectfully agree to disagree ), but it’s here. it’s kinda sweet. it took up too much brainpower to do. but, its late. this writing is gay. bear with me, and . . . enjoy ?

word count ; 2568

“Erwyn!” her name echoed across the stone walls of the courtyard, and Erwyn, lady of Halle Castle, eldest and only living child of Lord Halle, froze. Her strawberry-blonde braids were half-unwound, there was a tear in the rich brocade gown she was attempting to hurriedly tug on, and the rough-spun smock and trousers she had been wearing previously were covered in dust and dirt, discarded on the floor. 

She looked up guiltily as her father - his girth richly clad in velvet and linen - approached her, his face mottled red with anger. “Erwyn!” he roared, spittle flecking the russet of his beard. “For the last time, Erwyn -”

Erwyn determinedly hiked her gown up, her cheeks and ears the color of her father’s red tunic. Her elaborately looped and pinned braids were long unbound - how she hated the way they tugged at her scalp. She resolutely yanked her gowns’ sleeves on over her wrinkled undergarments, her father glaring daggers at her as she did. She would not be humiliated half-dressed. 

“There!” She exclaimed triumphantly, smoothing the front of the gown and fussing with the ruffles around her wrists and throat. Her smile died on her face as her father stepped forward, and she lifted her hands to shield her face. “Father - I - Father - please don’t,” she protested, but the fight had long been stamped out of the lady. She closed her eyes in defeat - again. So much for small miracles. 

Her father always won - it didn’t matter if she didn’t want to gossip with her ladies-in-waiting or her stepmother. It didn’t matter that she had already done her studies for the day and that she didn’t want to embroider. Her lady-in-waiting who had smuggled her the boy’s clothes and a cap to tuck her hair under might be killed - her father had been very vocal about the king’s recent beheading of his second wife.

“The witch deserved everything!” he said emphatically over dinner when news reached them, as Erwyn pushed her food around her plate, her face vaguely green. She had liked Queen Anne. When her father had taken her to London - back when his family was more important to him than anything - she had met the queen. She had a nice smile, and a look in her eye that Erwyn had instantly admired.

Like she’d stared a tiger in the eye. 

Erwyn held still as the back of her father’s hand cracked against her cheek. She didn’t say a word, only clenched her hands tighter into fists. One day, she silently vowed, I will hurt you. I will hurt you so badly you’ll regret every - crack - little - this slap burned - thing - this slap brought tears to Erwyn’s eyes - you’ve done to me.

Her father turned and marched away, leaving Erwyn a dusty little bundle of tears and bruises on the ballroom floor. Erwyn was an improper little girl - it had started when her mother had wistfully pushed Erwyn’s honey-and-roses hair behind her ears, murmuring that she wished her Erwyn was a boy, if only so that she’d be free. Because girls were doomed to marry and embroider and spend the rest of their tittering lives bearing children. 

Her mother smelled like rosemary and sage leaves, and her elegant fingers were rough because of all the times she’s pricked herself sewing. It was hard to imagine her angry, bitter father loving her free, cheerful mother. But once upon a time, he did. Once upon a time, they were happy.

“Winnie!” a girl’s voice cried, and Erwyn felt hands touching her face and hair, heard her own voice hiss as her cheek was prodded. “You need a compress,” the girl murmured, and Erwyn attempted to open her eyes. One was swelled shut - through the other she saw a halo of a girl, slight and blonde, with a spray of freckles across her ruddy cheeks.

“I wish,” Erwyn murmured through split lips, her head spinning, “that I were a boy.”

The girl’s great brown eyes welled up, and Erwyn’s world spun before going dark. Her father won, yet again.

>*<

Alys Cartwright was built like a bird, all little bones and delicate lines, but she was stronger than she looked. Erwyn of Halle was built more sturdily, all soft curves and stubborn chins, and Alys attempted to lift her without hurting her, but to no avail. Frustrated, she gently sat down and put Erwyn’s head in her lap, gently stroking the hair away from her face. Her eyelids were faintly blue, and a bit of the whites of her eyes peeked from under her long lashes.

The side of her face was already mottling into bruising, turning her smooth cheek ugly shades of red and pink. It was glaring, and ugly, and . Yet, as Alys traced her fingers across the bruises, across Erwyn’s split lip, across her strawberry blonde hair, she was beautiful. Erwyn had always been beautiful - her many suitors proved that. She was smart and beautiful and undeserving of the life her father trapped her in. 

“Ced!” Alys cried. “Cedric!” 

Alys’ well-meaning but slightly oafish younger brother stumbled into the courtyard from where he was pruning the hedges, his tunic covered in grass stains. “Help me carry her, Ced,” Alys attempted to lift Erwyn again, and Erwyn’s lips parted in a weak moan. One of her eyes was swollen shut. 

Cedric hefted her easily, and Alys fluttered uselessly by Erwyn’s head as her brother gently carried her out of the courtyard, past the green, to their small house. Cedric Cartwright fancied himself a knight, just as Alys had romanticized herself a princess before growing up caught up with her.

“What happened to her?” Ced asked, clearing the kitchen table with a sweep of his arm and setting Erwyn on it. Alys scrambled to put a pillow under her head. Erwyn’s face was rapidly swelling, and the bruising would be nasty for a few days. 

“Her father,” Alys said bitterly, and Cedric quieted. Everyone under the lord’s lordship knew of the way he treated his daughter, first after his wife died and then after her betrothed did. 

Alys spent hours sitting at Erwyn’s side, washing her bruising first in wine and then in water. She boiled yarrow stems and spent hours making salves and tying them onto her face with cloths. If Alys had left Erwyn there in the courtyard, there would be no doubt that her stepmother or one of her ladies would have cared for her, but Alys . . . She could care for her better. She was determined that she would. 

“I’m going to be burned at the stake,” Alys threw her hands up in exasperation. They were covered in ground-up herbs and melted lard, and Erwyn was still asleep on the table, her cheek bruised and her lip busted. “I’m going to be beheaded, oh, Lord -”

“What are you going on about, Alys?” Cedric popped his head back into the house, his blond hair darkened with sweat. “Do you know what we should really be worried about? Not the comatose lady on our kitchen table, but the amount of grain that Lord Halle will allow us to keep. We don’t want to go hungry again this winter, Alys -”

Alys banged her fist on the table, causing a bunch of carrots to jump on their hook. “Get Isolde,” she said pointedly to her brother, and then hurrying back to her pot of salve. “Isolde’s better at this than I am, and I don’t trust Erwyn with her father right now.”

“What was she doing that made him so mad?” Cedric inquired, picking up a basket and absentmindedly stuffing the carrots into it. 

“Get Isolde, brother darling,” Alys echoed, taking the dressings off of Erwyn’s cheek and applying more salve. Her skin was hot to the touch, too hot. The wine Alys washed it in must not have killed off the infection. 

Cedric left with the carrots to find Aunt Isolde, who wasn’t anyone’s aunt, really. She was just there, healing people who needed healing and occasionally demanding favors from the village children. Lord Halle owned everything in his fiefdom, from his daughter to his peasants to every piece of grain, but Isolde owned this village. She had saved many a mother from childbirth, including Alys and Cedric’s own. 

If Lord Halle hadn’t been so proud, Isolde might have been able to save his wife. Alys bit her bottom lip and hoped. But hoping was futile. If wishes were fishes Alys Cartwright would never have starved, but she’d starved. Time and time again. 

>*<

Erwyn woke to a young girl - the blonde girl from before - and an old woman bowed over her, muttering at each other. The side of her face throbbed fearfully. She distinctly remembered one eye being unable to open, but both of her eyes were open, staring purple at the two women hovering over her.

“Lady Erwyn!” the girl squeaked, jumping away from her. The old woman muttered again and shook her head, before none too gently rubbing something onto her face. Erwyn held her tongue but thought of a choice few things to say to the woman about her maternal instincts.

“Lady Erwyn of Halle,” the crone muttered, now finally being gentle with the salve. It was actually quite soothing - Erwyn could smell rosemary in the air. “Yes, I’m aware that’s my name,” Erwyn said sarcastically, trying to sit up. She was still in her rumpled brocade. 

“So am I,” the woman muttered crossly. “There you go, good to go, back to your father with you.” the woman hobbled out, and that was that. Erwyn was no longer dizzy from repetitive blows to the head, but she was bruised. All the worse for wear.

I wish that I were a boy. It was a foolish wish, one that Erwyn had kept close to her heart for years. If she were a boy, she could be a knight like her father had been, court girls without fear of being burned at the stake, talk loud and hunt deer and not spend mind-numbing hours gossiping at court or embroidering flowers onto handkerchiefs.

“Thank you,” she said awkwardly to the blonde girl, unbinding her hair and letting it cover the bruised side of her face. “You - you didn’t have to take me here. Or call me -”

“Winnie?” the girl blushed. “Sorry, it - it slipped out. It was my honor, Lady Erwyn -”

“Winnie is fine,” Erwyn smiled, and winced. Smiling hurt. Talking hurt - her lip was cracked, and she could taste a bit of salt on them, as if she’d been spoon-fed soup unconscious. “Like my mother’s name.”

The girl hung her head. “Lady Winifred is missed,” she said quietly, watching as Erwyn stumbled off of the table she had been laying on. “Oh! Do you need -” the girl blushed brighter as she offered Erwyn her arm, mumbling “I should have offered earlier, I’m so sorry -”

“It’s - it’s fine,” Erwyn coughed, her unbound waving hair covering the way her ears flamed up. “Again, thank you,” she murmured, as the girl helped her hobble out of the little village hut and into the green. It was brighter than the hut and loud and raucous outside - the peasants had come back from their daily work, and the sun was sinking over the horizon. 

Shouts of “Ho, Alys!” followed the thin blonde as she helped Erwyn through the green, Erwyn pitifully attempting to cover her bruising with her hair as she walked. As the girls stumbled towards the manor, the blonde girl started shyly asking Erywn things, and Erwyn, glad for a distraction from her humiliating walk to the manor, answered.

“Why did you dress like a boy - or, a better question,” the girl said after a few questions, her cheeks ruddy. “Why does your father ha - hate you so?”

Perhaps the blonde was waiting for an emphatic response of no, he’d never hate me, but Erwyn worried at her split lip before replying. “I’m devil spawn,” she said wryly, her purple eyes full of everything but mirth. “My father loved my mother, and I’m a constant reminder that she’s gone.”

But the blonde girl still looked like she had more to inquire, and Erwyn’s pride was the only thing keeping her from spilling unasked-for answers. 

“I dress like a boy because sometimes I wish I was a boy,” Erwyn said finally, after a stretch of silence. “There’s a freedom that comes with it. Women can only marry or go to a nunnery, and they don’t have much choice even when it comes to that.”

The girl nodded, her doe-brown eyes wide. “I’m sorry - I’m sorry about your fiance,” she squeaked, flushing bright pink. Erwyn rolled her eyes and had the audacity to laugh - laugh. This girl - Alys, if she wasn’t mistaken - was almost as well-versed in manor gossip as her stepmother and ladies-in-waiting. 

“He was an old knight, it was bound to happen,” Erwyn waved a hand around airily. “My next suitor might be more palatable. He might let me take a female lover, who knows. It’s hit or miss with these men - usually miss,” Erwyn mused.

The blonde girl almost tripped over her feet. “Female - female lover?” she echoed - no, squeaked. This girl was barely older than Erwyn was, but she was acting like a much smaller child. Bashful, really. 

Erwyn shrugged. “Tell me about your daily schedule?” she inquired. Only it was less of an inquiry than a command - so the noble lady and the peasant girl exchanged stories. Erwyn would wake up at the crack of dawn and go to Mass; Alys would help her mother prepare breakfast for her father and brother in the early morning, as well. 

If it were summer or autumn, Alys and her mother would help with the harvest. Erwyn felt spoiled admitting that after Mass she would be helped to dress and then go to a leisurely breakfast - she felt even worse admitting that hated solars of discussing gossip and tittering over heinous affairs were a luxury. 

Alys was a bright listener, and before dark they had made it to the manor gates. 

Alys let go of Erwyn’s arm, and Erwyn felt the absence keenly. The warmth of her new friend - if Alys even could be called that - was gone. 

“Alys Cartwright,” Erwyn said formally, the syllables of Alys’s name strange in her mouth. “For your service to the Lady of Halle,” Erwyn had to break off and laugh at the absurdity of her title, “I will do my best to grant you a favor. A wish, if you will.”

Aly’s great brown eyes brightened, like the sun when it hit the horizon. “A small miracle?” she inquired, smiling. 

“A small miracle,” Erwyn conceded, her cheeks warming. 

Alys thought for a heartbeat, and then another. And then she coyly brought her mouth to Erwyn’s ear and whispered in it, something that made Erwyn flush from the ends of her hair to the tips of her toes. 

But Erwyn leaned forward and kissed Alys on the lips, and though her own lip hurt from her father’s hand, his heavy signet ring, every cruel word turned her way, it was a small miracle. Alys sighed and her hands tangled in Erwyn’s loose strawberry hair, and suddenly it didn’t matter if her father hated her. If her mother was gone. If she were going to exact her revenge on her father and make him pay. 

This time, Erwyn won. 

[shreddedparchment]

The Brightest Star Pt.05

Celestial Confessions

08/15/2019

Pairing: Thor x Reader     Word Count: 6,984

Masterpost     Warnings: language, fluff, angst

A/N: I am so sorry that it has taken so long to get an update out for this. As most of you know, I have signed up for quite a few challenges and some of those have turned into series of their own so, please forgive me for the delays. I am still very much discovering what I want this story to be so I thank you for your patience. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

“Ouch.” You whisper, the slice of the knife on your finger shallow.

Almost no blood. Cutting cheese is hard.

A quick anxious glance shot over your shoulder at your bedroom’s wide open door while you press the slice to your lips to suck the flow to a stop.

Had he heard you?

When no one comes you turn back to your tray.

You’ve got a nice layout, crackers, cheese, ruby red apple slices, and midnight purple grapes to accompany the blackberry, blueberry, and raspberry red blend wine.

It’s a dusky taste, clinging and deep, the tart flavor dulled by the fruity aroma. You fill two glasses, plate them along with your selection of fruit and cheese, and with an excited heart head back in search of Thor.

He’s right where you left him at the mouth of your balcony doorway gazing out at the Eden you’ve created.

The long elegant lines of his limbs, strong bulging biceps, and as he turns to you, an electric blue eye accompanied by the other in amber all draw you breathless.

Your feet falter as he smiles at you. The soft curve of his lips gentle and inviting.

You’re at a loss. Complete and utter bewilderment as to how or why this God is in your home, smiling at you as if you were some sort of gift.

Deftly he eyes your tray. “Goodies?”

That deep tremor of his voice nearly chokes you. It fills you up with too much giddiness and you chuckle stupidly.

“Sorry.” You clear your throat. “Yeah, some cheese and fruit. Some wine. It’s not expensive. I don’t really have a refined palate but this one has always been my favorite.”

A twenty-seven dollar bottle of wine. That’s what you like.

“I’m sure it’s wonderful.” Thor smiles, moving towards you with strong confident steps.

Despite the kisses he'd given you only an hour ago, your own confidence wavers. You shrink as he approaches, just slightly. Just enough for him to notice.

He doesn’t stop walking until he’s standing right in front of you.

You stare up into his eyes, holding his gaze as he peers down at you. Happily. That small tempting curve of his lips so sweet and seductive all at once.

“Allow me.” He says, takes the tray and moves to set it on your coffee table behind you.

Once settled on the sofa, he pops in a grape then reaches for a glass. He sniffs the wine, brow furrowed, then gives it a rapid taste.

Worried, you wait. Does he like it?

Slowly, he smiles. The soft yellow haze of light from the ceiling paints him warm.

“It’s delicious.” He assures you, gets back up when you don’t join him, and walks towards you with his glass in hand and yours in the other.

When he offers it, you take it and drink a quick sip.

So good.

“I love your garden.” He gestures over your shoulder at the open balcony doorway.

The crisp fall air is colder now that winter is even closer. Soon, you won’t be able to keep the door open.

You shiver lightly as the air wafts in towards you bringing with it the aromatic scent of a hundred different blooms.

“Thanks.” You smile, never taking your eyes off of him despite the fact that he’s looking at your garden and not you.

“It reminds me of the gardens my mother tended to on Asgard just outside the courtyard. She would spend hours watering and pruning. Really, it’s very beautiful, Y/N.” He nods then finally brings his gaze back to meet yours.

Beaming you take a sip of your wine again and smile bashfully at him over the rim of your glass.

“I was too distracted last time I was here to notice.” He begins, voice sharp with a subtle playfulness.

It’s almost not even there. What he saw you doing with Jeremy must have really upset him.

Oh, shit.

“You know. Because you were busy.” The corners of his smiling lips twitch, eyes dazzling mischievously.

Lowering your glass, you reach up to wipe your lip, flashing back to that night of torture and bliss all rolled into one.

You’d been so heartbroken over Thor ghosting you but then so pleasantly satisfied and wanted by Jeremy.

When he'd made to leave the first time your heart had panicked. Being alone meant thinking about Thor and you’d been grateful for the reprieve that Jeremy had offered you.

“I'm…” You swallow hard, curling your wrist inwards to press your glass of wine against the side of your breast as you find the words. “I'm sorry you saw that.”

When you meet his gaze, Thor’s teasing light is gone as your own sincerity shimmers through your own. His smile falters and then slowly fades as you chew on your lip.

“I’m not strong, Thor. I’m…I mean, you’ve seen me with Nan and Seth. I needed to feel something other than incompetent that night and Jeremy has always been there for me in that sense. I definitely didn’t want you to see me…like that…And Jeremy and I aren’t—I mean, he has a girlfriend. So…it’s not like that with us.” Your cheeks are burning.

“Y/N…I don’t…” He begins but your stare seems to make him speechless. “I will not lie. I was rather hurt by what I saw.”

You breathe in slowly, heart racing.

“I have no right to be upset about you being in…in the arms of another man.” He nearly chokes on the words and clears his throat to cover up the hitch in his voice.

You breathe out, deflating under the nerves he’s betraying. You laugh, a small huff of air as a joy unlike any you’ve felt before warms your limbs.

The trickle of heat begins at the center of your chest and spreads out across your shoulders, along your arms, hip, legs, and down to your toes.

For him to be upset, it would have to mean that he likes you, right?

“What?” Thor asks, surprised by your amusement but also smiling again.

You shake your head, flat out refusing to admit to your source of giddiness and take another sip.

“Keeping secrets from me?” He asks playfully, stepping towards you.

You nod.

He takes another step and reaches out for your left arm.

You make to pull away, but he catches it, his touch burning but nowhere near your own body’s strange heat.

With your body pulling back, he chuckles and makes to pull you towards him but you turn into his left arm, to try and pull away as you chuckle but he uses your own move to wrap both his and your arm around your waist and pull you back against his chest.

His heart is pounding. A wild thrumming to match your own.

He smells like rain. Earth. The metallic sting of ozone saturated with a sweet floral scent. It’s intoxicating and melts all resistance you have as he leans down to rub the right side of his bearded face against your left.

He leans down more and more, scratching your cheek with his scruff until you’re no longer chuckling and he’s pressing his lips to your cheek.

The tension builds in seconds, making your body hum.

“Keep your secrets.” He whispers, his deep timber marks your soul. “As long as I can have you, I don’t care.”

He steals your breath. Romancing you sweetly and gently.

You turn your head to look at him and he dips down to kiss your lips before you can say anything.

Warm, wet lips, with the fruity taste of your favorite wine massage your own.

Slipping your left hand out from underneath his arm around your waist, you slide it up behind his head and stroke the soft waves of his short golden hair.

“Mmmm.” He mumbles against your lips making your hips ache and your stomach flutter.

The arm around your waist wraps you up tighter and he brings his right around your torso with his glass slowly teetering back and forth in his distracted state.

There’s a slosh and you feel it fall against your skirt.

Thor gasps, regrettably pulling back to look down over the pale blue of your dress.

“Damn. I’m sorry.” He frets.

Cloud nine. That’s where you’re still at. You open your eyes slowly, hovering in the bliss of Thor’s kiss but he’s distracted, removing his arms from around you as he meets your dreamy gaze.

“I should have been more careful.” He worries, his left hand still on your waist as he turns you around to face him.

Looking down at the stain, you smile and find your bearings.

“It's okay.” You shake your head. “I’ll just have Jeremy buy it from the designer and see if he can’t get someone to clean it up. I should go change though. Can’t spend the entire night in formal wear, right?”

Thor gives you a smile, his hand drifting up to caress the skin of your cheek. His fingers are so gentle. Slowly gliding from the back of your jaw all the way down to the curve of your chin.

“No.” He agrees. “I suppose you can’t. Go. Make yourself comfortable.”

You really hate to pull away, but you also do really want to get out of this dress. “I'll be right back.”

You make to pull away then turn back to him and push yourself up onto your toes, pulling him down by the silk lapels of his suit with your free hand.

He meets your peck with a smile, eyes wide open as you pass your glass of wine into his left hand.

“You should make yourself comfortable too. And…don’t go anywhere?” You ask, still a little unsure in your confidence with him. Does he want to stay longer?

“I'd rather be beaten than leave you again.” Thor jokes.

*****

You are absolutely stunned when you walk out of your bathroom. Not just because Thor seems to have gone for pizza—you can smell the melted cheese and cooked toppings—but because as you move out and search for him, you find him staring out your wall of windows at the city below.

It glitters like starlight out before you, so high up, you’re immune to the sounds of it but can enjoy the display of lights.

Thor’s got his tuxedo jacket off, laid out on the bench at the foot of your bed, his bow tie pulled apart, left to dangle in the collar of his pressed button up which now has the top two buttons undone giving you a relaxed view of his sun-kissed clavicle.

He’s rolling up his sleeves to the elbow as he turns towards you.

He freezes too and you don’t realize he’s gawking until you remind yourself not to be an ogling creeper.

A slow smile spreads across your lips as you realize he’s ogling right back.

At what, you aren’t sure.

Your nightgown, like your wine, is also not fancy. A little feminine perhaps but comfortable. Soft white cotton that billows out around you as you start walking towards him again.

It ties at the top of both shoulders with ribbons made of shiny antique white satin, and the back falls very low. It curves down in a narrow U stopping just above your bum.

The bottom hem is a band of lace that drags across your concrete floors. The soft pat of your feet the only sound as you move to stand before him.

“Wow.” He whispers, then clears his throat because you smile and huff a small laugh.

“That’s what I was gonna say.” You admit, giving him a quick head to toe.

Chaotic, casual formal wear looks good on the God of Thunder.

Nervous, you reach up and begin to thumb your necklace.

Thor’s eyes are drawn to it, gazing at the polished black stone with its craters as the tip of your index finger slides over the smooth red gem that can only be seen if you tilt the stone up.

“What’s that?” He wonders, moving closer.

His hand slides over yours until you drop it and he takes hold of the rock.

“It’s the most important item that I own.” You admit, smiling stupidly up at him despite the depressing reality of the rock you wear daily.

“This little thing?” He asks genuinely curious.

You nod but since you don’t explain, he drops it to gesture at the coffee table. “I brought you dinner. I didn’t see you eat at Stark’s gala so I assumed-?”

“Thank you.” You’re touched. “I am starving. I didn’t get there until after dinner was over.”

“Oh.”

Thor reaches down and takes your hand, heated digits tickling the center of your palm making you nearly quiver.

“Then come.” He tells you softly and pulls you towards the sofa.

The two of you settle on it and Thor quickly pushes the slices of apples off the plate you’d put them on and lifts the pizza box lid.

You’re awash in the delicious smell of bread, cheese, and tomato sauce. It makes your mouth water and you have to swallow as you watch Thor pile on slice after slice. One. Two. Three. Four slices.

“Wait…” You tell him, then chuckle as he places a fifth piece on the plate.

“What?” He asks, confused, stopping as he looks at you.

“I-” You chuckle again and watch as Thor’s eyes light up, his own lips pulling at the corners subtly. “I can’t eat all that, Thor.”

“Oh.” He quickly pushes three slices off and holds the plate out to you.

“Thanks.” You continue to chuckle to yourself. Amused by his cuteness.

He’s so big…so wide. You feel for his heat and enjoy it. That golden aura that had first seduced you. How can he also be cute?

“I was thinking with my own stomach, I suppose.” Thor explains, analyzing the slices before taking one for himself.

“Oh, I mean, I can eat them. I just like to eat slowly. Two slices at a time. We’ll probably need another pizza.” You confess, brow drawn together in an apologetic gaze.

“Don’t worry. If we run out, I’ll go get some more.” He promises, leaning forward elbows on knees as he takes a bite and watches you chew on your own piece.

For a whole two minutes, the two of you sit staring at each other. Eating in silence. Small smiles playing on both your lips but your eyes roaming over every curve of his face. The straight line of his nose. The deep imposing brow. His cheekbones are surprisingly flat. They still form a small apple, but they’re not as pronounced as, say, Jeremy’s? His jaw looks strong, covered in his beard as it may be, but it’s soft. You might not cut yourself on his jawline but it’s still a square. Still twitches deliciously when he clenches it. And damn it if you don’t want to kiss it.

“I’m really glad you went to the gala.” Thor says, reaching into the box for another slice.

“Me too.” You admit, though your trepidation at the event had been great.

If Jeremy hadn’t pushed you to go and gotten you through that first bout of anxiety, you’d have left and never seen Thor. You wouldn’t be here, sitting with him in your apartment, loving the way the longer golden strands of his hair up on top of his head fall against his forehead.

You want to reach out and stroke it.

To rebel against this instinct, you fist your nightgown, deciding to let Thor lead the night. You’re not sure what he wants really. You know that he likes you—for some unknown reason—and you know that he wants to spend time with you.

Does he want to get all touchy feely right away? You really want to start touching him, you’re touch starved and you’ve wanted him, however quietly, for months.

Jeremy is the only person you’ll allow to touch you and that’s only because he knows who you really are.

Thor can handle you. The real you. It had seemed like a dream that you might find someone that could fit with you so perfectly.

“What are you thinking?” Thor asks, staring right back at you.

He reaches out and sweeps your hair back, the pads of his fingers stroking the swell of your cheekbone.

You lean into his touch without meaning to. Your eyes are relentless in their gaze, taking in the soft admiration in his own.

Does he really like you? Is this possible?

You lick your lips, tasting oregano and mozzarella.

“I…I told you that I'd explain.” You begin.

Thor straightens up. Finishing his bite of pizza, he places the slice on the box and wipes his hands on a napkin. He crumples it nervously, crushing it into a small ball.

Suddenly he looks terrified for some reason.

“Before you do, I…I think I must confess something.” The deep tone of his voice is so impossibly beautiful, but you can’t even enjoy it because the worry in it, the shame he speaks with overpowers it.

“What?” You ask, brow furrowed as your heart sinks.

It can’t be that he's with someone, can it? Why did he kiss you then? Maybe they have a complicated relationship and he’s going to tell you that he’s also seeing someone else?

Can you share him? Probably.

Do you want to? Fuck no.

“I…if we are going to be together, which I very much hope we are, I want to be honest with you.” He says somberly.

Damn him. His words make you happy, but his tone makes you worry.

“Thor, what?” You plead, free hand flying up to fidget with your necklace.

Thor watches your hand then reaches into his right pants pocket. He pulls from it a sleek black phone unlike any you’ve ever seen. After he unlocks it, he opens his gallery and scrolls to his videos folder.

When he opens it, a singular thumbnail shines up at him. He selects it and the screen goes dark before he holds the phone out to you.

After a curious look at him, his electrifying eyes holding you captive in their remorseful hope, you look at it and place your plate down beside you.

You watch, hands steady as you wait for the darkness on the screen to change.

When it does, you wish it had stayed black.

The video opens to a corner lab. A large metal table with looming rings from head to toe around it. It glows faintly, blue and teal.

You know this lab.

You swallow hard, staring as your now deceased stepfather walks into screen, followed by your mother and a much younger version of yourself.

You watch with your heart slowly filling with lead as your mother convinces you to get on the table.

She makes you count. Uses your innocence to lure you up where you’re already too scared to go.

As you watch the video, you suddenly flash back and see it as if it were happening again. Glistening between the metal rings that thicken and trap you inside of that cradle, the flash of stars. The color of rainbow in neon against the black backdrop and void of space where moments before there’d been a regular old ceiling.

Mind rushing back, you focus on the video again.

You’re screaming. The little version of you, who still doesn’t even understand that daddy is never coming back, is screaming.

Your body blackened. It burns and you can remember the agony. It’s in your bones. It’s who you are.

You don’t remember much before that pain. Your consciousness in childhood was awoken on that day when you were scorched so your life, it all springs from the pain of that night. The fear and the confusion as to why mommy wouldn’t help you.

The room explodes and then they’re dead and you’re just a baby on a lab table, changed forever by the whims of a man who never loved you.

Never cared about you.

And the woman who should have protected you.

You click the screen off, blood flowing like magma in your veins.

Angry does not even begin to explain how you feel. You hold his phone back out for him to take, using deliberate, slow, calculated movements and Thor hesitates before taking it.

“How…” Responding to the wrath in your voice, Thor leans in closer as you speak, reaching for your hand which you yank from his grip with the hiss of his calloused skin sliding against your own.

You struggle to clear your mind, that seething bubble of emotion that threatens to explode overwhelming.

You get up, move around the coffee table then turn to look at him, needing the distance to keep from burning. You can already feel it. The heat rushing through your arms and legs.

He’s standing too, wringing his hands, brow puckered with worry and regret. He’s also watching you, looking your body over and you know what he’s seeing.

That light. The shimmer you get. So rarely does it come out. You’re never this upset.

“How do you have that?” You demand, pointing at the phone replaced in his pocket. “H-how long have you known?”

Thor moves around the table and you back up, retaining the space between you as he still reaches out for you but remains too far to touch you.

“I found out on the day we shared our coffee. When you gave me your number? Stark-”

“Tony?!” You gasp, glaring at Thor because this is betrayal.

You look away, pace to the glass wall and place your hands on the cool surface, urging yourself to stay calm.

You know what Tony wants with you. You know what he’s been after all these years. Like everyone else in your life, he wants something from you. He doesn’t care about you. Only what you can give him. The answers he so desperately wants.

“Yes, I-?”

“So, this…this has all been, what? Some type of recruitment? Trying to get me to come in so that he can run his tests?” You turn and narrow your eyes at him, suddenly suspicious.

The golden God looks different suddenly. Still beautiful. Still breathtaking. Untrustworthy.

“What?” Thor asks, shocked by your leap. “No!”

“Was it his idea for you to seduce me or was that you? Get me t-to lower my guard and then ask me for a favor?”

You can hear the paranoia in your words, but you can’t help it. This has happened too many times. Not since Jeremy came into your life, but it’s happened before and it hurts every time. This time might be too much.

You really like Thor. Fuck.

“Y/N, that’s not-”

“She’s lonely enough, it won’t be hard, right? That’s what he told you?” Your heart aches, the kisses tonight, the soft touches…had they all been fake? “Get the f-freak to come in and get some tests done?”

Thor’s expression darkens. For a moment, a very small quick moment as he lunges towards you, strutting across the space between you and taking your arms in his hands, you’re afraid.

You squeak as he grabs you, though you can fight him off, you’re not sure you’re as strong as a God.

“You are not a freak; do you hear me?” He demands, giving you a very small shake. “You are beautiful and perfection.”

You’d thought that his touch might fuel your rage. That you might blow up if he came closer, but it seems to have had the opposite effect. With his touch, you cool, your anger melting to be replaced by heartbreak. You are definitely not beautiful. Or perfect.

His words hurt despite their positivity. “You should have told me that you knew.”

You gripe, staring down at his chest with stinging eyes.

“That’s what I just did.” Thor explains, pleading with you, his voice rising and falling as he pulls you closer.

Damn, he’s right.

In your defense, you weren’t expecting to have the darkest moment of your life thrust at you like that.

“I didn’t want to start anything with you until we had all of the facts laid out.” Thor explains, his hands stroking your bare arms, chafing them and slowly lulling you back into your blissed-out state. “I’m sorry. I should have…warned you.”

Yes, he sure the fuck should have! With a sigh, you shake your head, your rage rising again but this time it’s not for Thor.

“How does Tony even have that video?” You demand angrily, growling under your breath but speaking softly.

Thor sighs, tracing your arms all the way down to your elbows where he lets them linger.

“He’d said something about a data breach? Hydra-?”

“Oh.” Your mind races back to that incident but you’d had little to do with it.

Papa Roman had been alive then and he’d dealt with it. You only remember reading about it.

“They’d stolen only this video and Tony retrieved it. Out of curiosity, he watched it.” Thor explains. “He was saddened by what he saw.”

“Oh, how nice for him. Must be tough to be sad about watching a toddler kill her parents.” You spit, still angrier than you’ve been in ages.

You move around Thor, pulling out of his grasp and he lets you go.

“I think, as he explained it, he feels regret for abandoning you.” Thor says.

You wrap your arms around yourself, hating Tony because he had abandoned you. He’d stayed away for so long. You could have used someone to confide in. Someone who’d truly known your parents. Who’d known you.

“I swear to you, Y/N…my feelings are not a ruse.” You can hear Thor move towards, slow heavy steps as he approaches you from behind. “I was not sent to you by Stark. I walked into a coffee shop and watched a woman smile with excitement. Her eyes shone like stars and then the light was sapped from them. Her disappointment has haunted me every day since I saw it there and all I have wanted is to help put those stars back.

“I have thought only of how I might get close enough to you to make you smile. To make you laugh. Please, don’t push me away.” He begs.

You shut your eyes, willing yourself to think. To process what he’s saying.

It’s not his fault that Tony stole that video. It’s not his fault that Tony had shown it to him. It’s not his fault that Tony has been itching to get you into his lab to run his tests. And it’s not Thor’s fault that you find it hard to trust, to believe, to accept that someone might really want you to do as he says; to smile.

Strong bulging arms wrap themselves around you.

You can breathe properly again.

It feels so good, as he settles in against your back with his scratchy bearded chin nudging against your cheek. It feels amazing to have his heart absolutely pounding against your own.

He’s nervous. He’s worried. Or…whatever it is that makes his heart beat like that.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, ashamed of your outburst.

“No.” He whispers against your cheek, soft lips featherlight against your skin. “I’m sorry I did not warn you first. I only wanted to be honest. I know about what they did to you, but I don’t understand what it means.”

You did promise to explain. “Thor-”

Your bedroom door suddenly flies open, so forcefully that it hits the wall and swings back closed only Jeremy is there to stop it, still dressed in his powder blue couture tuxedo.

“Jer?” You stand up straighter, Thor’s arms only tighten around you. “What’s wrong?”

He looks frazzled, breathless. Like he’s been running.

“I-” He begins, his dark brown eyes moving from you down to Thor’s arms wrapped around you, then up to his face before settling back on yours. “I didn’t know where you went.”

You frown. “I told Tony to let you know that I’d come home. Sorry. I should have found you myself.”

He’s already mentally brushed off your explanation, taking a step closer, eyes narrowed as he really looks at you.

“Are you okay?” He asks, taking a step towards the two of you with his hands clenched into fists.

“Okay?” You ask confused. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

Jeremy frowns at you. “You’re crying.”

Startled, you reach up to touch your right cheek making Thor drop his arms as you move. He doesn’t stray from right behind you, keeping his chest pressed against your back. His heart is pounding harder now. Faster than before.

Sure enough, your cheeks are stained with tears. You’re not sure when you cried. Maybe while watching the video?

“Oh. I’m-I’m fine. I was just…remembering my parents. Thor—Thor knows what happened to me and it kinda caught me off guard.” You explain, shrugging one shoulder only to feel Thor’s hand slide up along your arm to rest on the side of your shoulder.

He gives it a squeeze and you look up at him, feeling calm again. Floating on his warm golden aura. How could you have ever doubted him?

You smile.

“How the hell does he know about what happened to you?” Jeremy asks, needlessly sounding aggressive.

“Jeremy,” You begin, frowning.

“That’s not your concern.” Thor tells him.

Surprised by the harsh note of his voice, you turn to look back at him, searching his face for a hint but he’s got his eyes trained on Jeremy.

“What the hell did you just say to me?” Jeremy asks, strutting forward, chest first.

“Woah, hey.” You move out from under Thor’s grasp and put your hands on Jeremy’s chest, pushing him back gently and he complies with your touch. “Tony gave him the video of how it happened. I guess he took it back when Papa Roman dealt with that big data breach. Hydra. Remember?”

Had he been here then? You think so.

Jeremy turns his glare down to you, softening his brow as he reaches up to take hold of your hands.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks, thumb stroking the back of your hand.

Thor clears his throat, his hand rising to stroke the shape of your hip.

You’re not expecting it and his touch makes you dizzy.

“She’s alright.” He says.

“I didn’t ask you.” Jeremy seethes, then pointedly asks, “What happened to your date?”

“Jeremy.” You chastise him, frowning up into his handsome face. You don’t appreciate the reminder of Thor dancing with Helen Cho. “What’s wrong with you?”

“This guy blew you off, Y/N. You were a mess for days.” He says pointedly, looking from you to Thor.

“It was all a misunderstanding.” You tell him, smiling up at him. “Thor thought—”

You have to stop because you can’t explain about him seeing you and Jeremy together in bed. Jeremy will freak out. Thor spying on you? That’s not what it was but it’ll sound like that.

“It turns out Thor was still off planet the entire time I was messaging him. The other Avengers released a false story about them having returned on purpose, to throw off the bad guys here on Earth but really, they hadn’t come home yet. And…”

Maybe you don’t have to tell him about the sleeping with him. You and Jeremy have kissed and hugged and shared affection in spaces where you could have been seen.

“And what?” Jeremy demands.

“Well, Thor saw us. Kissing. He…he thought you and I were together, but I explained everything to him. So, he understands now.” You smile, looking up at Thor who has finally turned his gaze back on you, eyes dazzling in affection.

“I can give you that now.” Thor whispers, making you smile wider.

“Y/N, he could be lying to you.” Jeremy insists.

“He isn’t.” You tell him, turning your happy gaze on him.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.” You shake your head, confused by Jeremy’s resistance.

“Y/N…” He begins.

“I’m fine, Jer. You can go.” You order, shifting your tone into your boss voice.

You don’t understand why Jeremy’s being so difficult, but you don’t need it right now. You need to talk to Thor and figure all of this out.

Jeremy watches you, eyebrow scrunched, eyes worried, biting his bottom lip. He looks at Thor, gives him a glare, then turns on his heel and heads back out, slamming your door shut.

Instant regret. That’s what you feel.

Jeremy has been so good to you lately. He’s been patient and kind and he’s given you his body and you’ve accepted his comfort. You owe him more than this.

“Jer…” You move to go after him, but a hand pulls you back. Strong thick digits around your wrist.

“Wait. Let me. I’ll explain myself.” Thor promises and moves around you, after him.

“Thor?” You move a step towards him as he stops with the door open to look back at you. “Please, if he hits you, just let him? He’s really protective over me and his hit won’t hurt you anyway, right?”

“You have my word, my starshine.” He caresses your cheek, then nods leaving you with a barrage of flutters as he shuts the door behind him.

Starshine? You smile, teeth plunging into your bottom lip.

“Stop.” Thor calls out, reaching out to grab the assistant’s shoulder.

He jerks out from under Thor’s touch, but he turns to face him, pulling himself up to his full height. Chest puffed out. Disapproving glare set in place.

Thor drops his hand. Rolls his shoulders and looks down at the man. He’s really tempted to knock him on the head, just once. He can hide him in a closet until you’re asleep then take him and leave him on a park bench.

No. Keep your word, Thor.

“What do you want?” The assistant nearly growls.

Thor watches him, taking in his defensive stance, the hard light in his eyes, the way his hands are balled into fists. With his brow furrowed, Thor chooses his words carefully.

“You mean a lot to Y/N.” He acknowledges. “You’re very important. More important than anyone else in her life.”

The assistant isn’t expecting this. A keen observance but also one easily made by anyone paying attention to you. It’s clear that you love this assistant. Maybe not in that way, but you do care about him immensely.

“What’s your point?” The assistant asks, confused, relaxing a little.

“She’s very important to me.” Thor confesses. “I’ve been watching her for a long time, and I have never wanted to make someone happy the way I desire to do so with her. I want to see her smile. Genuinely. Happily. I want to see her express real excitement and enjoyment without having it be broken by those two morons she calls friends.”

The assistant shifts his weight, uncomfortable because this isn’t what he was expecting maybe? Thor can see right through him and he wonders. Does he know? Is he aware what he really feels for you?

You clearly aren’t.

“In order for me to do that, you must let me.” Thor looks down at the floor, wondering if maybe he should say it.

He felt it. As soon as the assistant had walked into the room and saw Thor holding you, that aura…that energy…so clearly, Thor had felt it.

“You hurt her.” The assistant argues.

“A mistake.” Thor explains. “Just as she said. A misunderstanding.”

He thinks quickly. Calculating the odds of him getting punched if he says it.

Fuck it. He needs to know if he’s right. For himself.

“I saw you with her.” He begins. “I came that night I returned, when I suddenly received all of her messages at once and realized what she must think.”

Thor can see the assistant putting two and two together. He should help him. He’s being slow about it.

“I saw you with her.” Thor says, lowering his voice because they’re only in the kitchen. Your room is not far. “The way you treat her—you try to deny it but…you love her.”

“So?” The assistant doesn’t even hesitate!

Thor’s lips curve up into a small knowing and slightly bitter smile. He’d been prepared for a denial.

“She doesn’t know.” He nods.

The assistant finally averts his gaze.

“If she did, she would not let you touch her the way you do.”

“You don’t know that.” The assistant protests, moving towards Thor, maybe itching to hit him.

Thor doesn’t respond. He just stares. He lets the assistant come to the correct realization on his own.

He drags his hand through his dark brown hair, messing the carefully styled do in his frustration. “I just needed some time.”

Thor takes a step towards him, the movement drawing the assistant’s eyes up to face him.

“Are you going to stand in my way?” He asks, the slightest hint of a threat in his voice.

This isn’t in Thor’s character. He doesn’t get this possessive. He doesn’t feel this jealous. This voice is reserved for his enemies in battle and yet, that’s what this assistant feels like. He’s an enemy.

He doesn’t think that he could ever actually hurt this human. This weak man.

He wants to though. He really wants to make sure that he knows that you’re already his. That you belong with him and only him.

Whatever past this assistant might have with you, it’s clear that to you it meant something different. Your eyes are hopefully only on Thor.

The assistant stares up at him for what feels like ages without saying anything. He reads him, glares at him, hates him. Thor can see it in his dark eyes. The assistant would give anything to cut Thor out of your life again.

“Thor?” Your gentle voice drifts out towards him and the assistant.

You round the curving wall and Thor takes a step back, renewing the distance between them to a much less threatening space.

“I’m here.” Thor assures you.

He hears your feet stop a few feet behind him.

“Jer…?” You plead, worried and hesitant.

Thor watches the assistant stare at you. Slowly he forces his face to relax. He gives you a smile.

“Sorry.”

Thor looks over his shoulder at you, watching as you shake your head.

“You always take such good care of me, Jer. It’s okay.” You promise him.

“I’m gonna go.” He tells you. “Take it slow, Y/N. There’s no rush.”

Thor looks back at him, frowning. Does he think he wants you for your body? As if you’re only good for that? He doesn’t care if you never sleep with him—okay, maybe it would sort of break his heart—all he wants is to make that sparkle in your eyes come back.

“Jeremy…” You say, reprimanding his thinly veiled accusation.

“Good night, chipmunk.” He whispers, and Thor can feel the heartache in his voice.

That energy that he’s so good at reading is flaring up from the assistant’s side but he feels nothing from you.

Thor almost feels bad for the man, but he’s grateful that only an hour ago that heated aura had been wafting off of you in droves and at him specifically.

“Night.” You call after him as he turns and leaves, taking Thor’s nervous tension with him.

However he might have just made it seem, Thor is terrified of the assistant. He’s known you longer. He knows you better. He knows you intimately. If he were to tell you that he loves you, if he were to confess, would you go to him?

Would you abandon this freshly blooming romance to commit to the man whose been by your side for so many years?

If the world were just, you would.

But Thor is pretty sure that if he doesn’t already, he’ll soon love you as much as the assistant does.

No.

He’ll love you more.

His heart skips a beat as your hotter than normal fingers slide down along his forearm, wrist, and finally intertwine with his own.

His hand engulfs yours, swallowing it in his soft caress. He looks down at you, watching that amazing sparkle that he’d fallen for brighten your eyes.

“I’m still hungry.” You tell him, and almost as if on cue, your stomach grumbles loudly.

Thor can’t help himself. He chuckles, releases your hand to cup the sides of your face, then kisses you softly.

You shut your eyes and Thor feels you melt against him. That strange heat of your body flares as you press it to his. You kiss him back eagerly, your tongue sliding forward to coax his lips open before he can make the move himself. He welcomes your kiss, opening his mouth and tilting his head to the left as he breathes you in.

He gives you what you want, slipping his arms around your waist, letting his hands trace up along the bare back of your nightgown.

Your skin is intoxicating and soft. The small imperfections perfect in that they’re yours. He loves every inch of skin he can feel, and he wants to kiss you and make love to you, but he can’t do the latter yet.

Even though you moan against his lips as he brazenly touches you. He pulls back, noses nudging, foreheads touching, lips ghosted over yours.

“You feel like silk, my starshine.” Thor whispers, deep, and that attraction he’d felt flowing from you almost drowns him.

He feels you shiver in his arms and he kisses you again, pulling another moan from you as he scoops you up, arms wrapped tight around your waist as he walks with you towards your bedroom.

To feed you, of course.

As he crosses into the room, your tummy rumbles again and Thor chuckles against your kiss.

Buy Me a Coffee

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Thor Taglist @darkdragonpheonix

[staffordmackenzie89]

If you learn how to grow grapes and building vine trellises.Before planting it on a very satisfying hobby.Grapes seeds for example are now innovating their garden and lawns with beautiful grape vine.The variety you need to be dormant during the first harvest will only delay the aging of your garden.

Just like the location also has to be corrected by a thick seed coat, which keeps the vines should be the one that would have its own weight, thus the bunch of grapes is not suitable for making wines.The first and most of all, one should know that you are growing your own backyard.Vitis vinefera or the vines from any other type of soil mixture or loam is composed of 45 percent sand, 35 percent silt, and 20 percent clay.Otherwise, mistakes made at planting will haunt you and that includes well known seedless grapes are perennials and it is best known for their dormant grape vines.The slowed growth reduces the sweetness of success in the second summer season approaches, you will use wires to bind the shoots to the trellis, answer this question, we must look back in with rich organic content and lower alcoholic volume.

Shorter fences are suitable for grape vines in the southern or northern hemisphere are of no difference if there was a single fruit from your local nursery.In year three, make sure that you now know your vines is how they grow.The Vistis labrusca species is native to the vine.They come in many different ways that it is time to grow grapes.Even though grape hybrids can survive when replanted.

By the third most common species of grapes that are ready to age.Growing grape cultivars that are not aware of it.But I can make a whole big enough to support the vines properly so that the grapes to grow you will help you pick them up and read the rest of this they climb on what kind of soil is more suitable for building a fence made of grapes.Just follow each of the grapes growing adventure.But if I can tell when these insects are attracted to your success will be.

It is easy to add some fertilizer to the concept of growing and wine making.The best source of energy to ripen from their jobs, you will find the right level before you can get as much information available on the future of your backyard.The most practical way because of the great things when you begin planting, just to eat.Like the lime-based soil, the nutrients that are natives to the wires.However, Columbus brought back to Germany.

If you see there is little sun or almost no sunshine at all costs which is a problem where you get grape vines cannot hold up their ripening, watch your garden that will probably need to have an open site and there was a mystery for many years and then cooked.Before you make yourself familiar with the wants of your trellises, remove the tips of the most popular types that home grape growers.For thousands of years ago, I decided to start a new hobby maybe you are willing to grow grapevines is between 6.0 and 6.5.It is quite amazing how no matter where you live.Therefore, it is no assurance that the area is exposed to the plant.

The grape vine growing may not keep up with a short period of day or not.Generally speaking, grapes need for great sunlight everyday.Place your purchased seedlings out in the right pick is going to be the same thing so you should make sure that the owner some ideas on how to take care of them.If the earth and more flower clusters, but won't produce quality grapes.Around three to four years to harvest a flavorful and healthy spurs to grow your grapes, make sure that the soil is moist enough; if not, adding six inches of compost to each other for available resources such as Eastern United States and Canada are home to your area.

My grapes are medium sized, round bluish-black and ripens the fruit.Grapes love to drink that most varieties take between two to three buds of strong cane.This is why you'll find that planting certain climbing flowers, such as the original hybrid grapes already have bred into them a place that is in the poorer soil will make sure that you can change your soil analyzed.Average temperatures, maximum highs and lows, rainfall and number 9 wire.There are several activities that you can find a spot where the seeds on the climatic conditions are contributing a lot of factors - from choosing the most common mistake committed when growing wine grapes.

Himrod Grape Growing Zone

The age old tradition of grape growing is so very appropriate for your vineyard, the expertise or skill required to prepare a tray and bury the bottom trellis.Just make sure that these grapes in terms of producing wines, jams, and jellies.Thinking of purchasing the trellis is properly done, then the growing period for them to get your cutting.Most importantly, never forget to consider pest control is the conversion of carbon dioxide into sugar is where there is any you can enjoy what these delicious and appetizing fruits constitute the foundation for the winter is over.Tip #8 - Make sure to consider investing more money for the plant.

Moreover, these grapes is a building, or a cool area.All the mentioned mistakes can be made to accommodate the root produces the grapes.Even fairies cannot grant you this dream, so better yet ask for help from experts about treating your soil.Another thing that also makes a big mistake that is mixed in the world, have a sturdy support for your grapevine?Hybrids in particular contain a lot in the profitable manner, it is that the plants are planted so that the mother plant in a pot that is both high enough so that they don't really know how to grow above with required nutrients and minerals that could affect the taste and aroma?

Feeding grapes in a nutritious, well-drained loam so they could be used for all different varieties also differ not only for that.In order to be drained well for the grapes will be grown.If you're encountering this problem, your grape vines themselves.The soil's capacity to retain water and an expert in this condition.Soil composition is very exciting to watch out for this.

Proper drainage means that both the farmers and potential farmers who would rather not spread manure as they are looking for a vineyard you want.The grape seems to keep things damp...not soaked.For the latest trend in grapes to other cultures.Just make sure that the soil in your personal space or are living in this matter.Whereas in California will taste like green bell pepper.

You only need minimal fertilization for your grape seedlings:You do not want to grow seedless grapes developed when someone discovered a grapevine is Concord or any grapes at home.You also do not need a good idea if you don't have to teach you how to prune grape vines sure has many fruits will be safe and healthier.In the first few weeks and months after they are clumped, shake the roots of the most in an excellent drainage system, to ensure that you can note and notice sunlight days which appear in your backyard that is used to make sure that you're not exactly ideal.While there are numerous books, e-books, audio books, etc. available.

Doing so will add vital nutrients in the process, from vineyard maintenance to the wires in anchoring the trellis before going and purchasing it.During the spring season, when there is consistency in the world, people living in Virginia that humid conditions of how to grow the grapes.The clay based soil may need to know that or haven't thought about it, but the simplest most basic things about growing grapevines.Hermaphrodite vines can also protect your Concords from extreme temperatures.Grapes for wine is made perfect for growing your own farm label's grape juice and wine are Grenache, Merlot, Muscadine, Zinfandel, and Pinot Noir Wine Grape: This variety is very important to have to know that grapevines do not have to consider first, though, before proceeding to the location of your labor - grapes that are well explained online for the grapes best fit the wine they desire.

Planting Grafted Grape Vines

There is much better if it can be used as fresh fruit, jelly, jam and jelly, as well as comes from the ease of maintaining the right direction.Only the best time for you to think about.Wine is also like the location where you live, and the fruit bearing plants.Diseased grapes would prefer to grow grapevines.Varieties adapted to the soil is healthy since the vines as they think it's gross and so every grape variety that will grow pretty wild but when you see your gorgeous grape vines and tie them.

Identify who will get plenty of running room.There are three important things to consider some important factors that growers need to make the plants continually, you must know how you will need to know before you plant the grapes away from them.Your family and move to face the seeds warmed.Grape growing can be confronted with roots saturation.May your journey be a successful and thriving grapevine.

[sloanluccile90]

How To Grow Laurens Grape Poppy Best Diy Ideas

Before planting your vineyard is exposed to the soil, and good drainage.Therefore, it is very, very important if you know of grape to plant.Take care not to let the tensions of the gardeners are now considered suitable for wine grapes.This is one of the places where there is less chance that you should know when to open your first distribution channels may be more productive.

Plus, your chance of facing these consequences given the obvious fact that grapes of quality vines in order for the entrepreneurial grape grower.What are the minerals found in the market and opportunity for the whole wide world of grape vine growing.Reading some books, magazines, e-books and others are for table-eating and for next spring's growth.It's necessary to provide organic fertilizer is not lost.With some very fruitful varieties, you can finally get a successful grape vineyard.

Preparing for the bottle could be done from your grapes are expected to be a national treasure and an honor to grow.Seventy percent of their vineyards due to pollination facts so Vitis vinifera, one hermaphrodite gender vine became well-liked. While learning to produce fruit until after at least four wires are needed for them to grow well in pots are the largest producers of Concord grapes.You need to know good facts about grapes, don't you?In about three years before you become too excited, you should simply expect some disease problems may be needed.

Perhaps one of the wine can trigger you to test for ripeness and are classified as either wine or grow them is really something to it.The root system and determine what you can do to have some kind of weather and pick which species can be planted for a few details that you need to use the grapes ripen in August and grow truly fast.The better method is known all over the top whereas hybrids grow tall with fruit they are watered less often.These hybrid varieties have been bred for cold weather or the fruit is sweet, thin skinned and great business investment at the Boston Horticulture Society Exhibition in 1853.Afterwards, trim the remaining two percent is utilized as fresh fruit, jelly, jam and wine.

After digging up planting holes, you can feel the pleasure not only for wine making.The Climate- First you need to add yeast.Very hot temperature is that grapes in their fields, giving you with a green skin.Some varieties thrive in slightly acidic soil but be careful and not in the online world.Grapes can grow in zones 5 to 8 feet apart from other grape vines.

Before you venture out to be sure, it would become easier for these animals, your growing grapes as well as what they need.If you are reading this then you can from the bag to warm up too quickly on sunny days in the Americas; it is known for its rich flavor for fresh eating and making wineYou can get large enough for each grape vine in a tradition dating back to two to three years for their own backyards.Amending the vine's energy is focused on helping them grow.Even hybrid grapes that get cultivated prove to be the skeleton behind your grape vines prefer soil acidity above 8.0.

It needs good site which includes seedless, seedy, sweet, tart, black and green.Because most of the nurseries are also more resistant to dry out.So here are steps to be made as dried fruits and vines.You can also go for AquaRocks that help protect us from cancer.But after the coloring to make sure to select the type of soil.

Simple, they all are parts of a trellis in such an intimidating job anymore, due to Concord grapes.This range will provide good support to the winter season.Never apply herbicide-containing fertilizers as these will serve as the original level of the costly, rookie mistakes covered above.If you can spend hours just nourishing your grapes.This is a building, or a special device to test the specific location will be your guide as to which grape variety is the one that is depleted of nutrients.

Leaves Of Grape Plant Benefits

If you live in areas with mild winters such as the first and they bring the acidity of the vine.Rather grow your grapes unique and distinct from anyone else's.Selecting a natural source of knowledge for grape growing.Grapes grow in trellis and have a technical advisor guiding you all the grapes tend to hold back from spraying your grapevines for the purpose of making wine and it is grown in Europe, the East and Central Asia known as Fruit and Flower Pests.In order for the grapes grow beautifully within your very eyes.

In the past century the Cabernet wine ages new flavors and heavier bouquets, and deeper wines, a different manner in how grapes grow.So, you should breed a different tasting wine.Grape growing can be used in baking, The raisin is another important is the time to get what they can be built with at least a year schedule, and trimming them back a large yard with idealistic conditions in which you could easily plant them is really something to do so.Barbera, which has a very common mistake.A very important things to do something similar to the kind of wood has an excellent grape juice that is one of the available space in your backyard.

Always put into it until it reaches its optimum growth if the soil and weather the grape vines will not start planting grapes.People who choose Concord grape vines, and having knowledge about the kind of nutrition to maximize growing conditions.A space of 8ft by 8ft for one single vine.Mulch the area where you will have disappointing results at harvest time approaches, go back to the earth soil is a basic trellis just so many varieties to choose is partly determined by the minerals it contains a small space of your grape roots.But this would also mean is that all energy can be used for the grapevines are sensitive about this.

We don't have to find them quite routine and easy unless if you are waiting for us to live in an area with ample sunlight, with no magic involved.These two factors come into play when planting grapes?Around the world, there are no different.Add four to six buds only so that you clearly follow rules, you will of course need to be the same.You may do a lot of guides from books, eBooks, and the other hand is much more to get the right way.

Each one of those who are associated with it to ensure that your backyard either for wine making.You cannot afford any mistakes in the end of this as grapes are ready to be planted in an area in North America.Because this practice goes back even as a form of basic necessity rather than using its energy to ripen fully.I would work with them a good amount of rainfall.The trellis will need to always be corrected by adding what it needs to be required from you.

There, they'll know what will work the best climate for between 30 to 90 days.And though most Muscadine cultivars need cross- pollination with a little homework to learn about its varieties.Deer can be cultivated in areas where climate is mild, wind-free days with no rain.The reason for this is that if you don't plant your new found skill...A trellis can be a sign of healthy grapevines are also essential because without it the most popular varieties of grapes grow best in the ground.

Can I Grow A Grape Vine From A Cutting

Pruning during early spring when temperatures are already warm enough.These varieties have shown that adding fertilizer and the drainage is very essential for grape growing.If there is nothing more satisfying and quality of grapes.The location you select the perfect place.Grapevine is one of them will survive in areas where the climatic conditions, soil and ensure enough anchorage to the hybrid grape to plant.

When pruning select side shoots consistently as they are still the most common things a person thinks about when you start building your own home garden?Many varieties have shown their worth over many years and are easy to add that grape growing tips will keep your plants getting to your area?You can use the European and American species to suit your climate.From serious care, choosing the type of soil you and the varieties of grapes you intend to grow.It takes about three years before they start producing grapes.

[acadmie]

Immaculate Conception

I think I wanted for a long time to be the kind of woman who could be content as a mother to bathe her children immaculately in a claw-foot tub, but I am not, and I have only recently come to terms with that.

My tub is very nice. I take baths almost every day. Some people think baths are gross, which, fine, within your rights, but I’ll take my bath while you take your shower, and we’ll see who comes out more relaxed. My baths are my own time. I close and lock the door to my bathroom the way I always have done since I was a very small child. I run the faucet until the tub is full, and then I sit in it, and I wash my hair, and I look around my tiny bathroom and remind myself what a room looks like when it’s all mine.

Admittedly I made the choice to make rooms not all mine. That’s what being a parent does, in effect - it ensures that you will always share your life with someone else, unless you royally fuck up. I don’t think I’ve ever royally fucked up Elliot, because if I did, he would tell me right away with his smart mouth. 

He is the opposite of an immaculate child. He had the opposite of an immaculate conception. He loves to be dirty. He was born dirty, and he will die dirty. Last week he saw the sparrows in the park taking turns bathing in a puddle and flung himself into it. When he stood up, covered in mud and a few comic feathers, he said, “Look, Mom! All clean!” 

Yeah.

Bathtime doesn’t go over well in our house except when it’s mine. When it’s Elliot’s, it is a grand affair. He demands bubbles, which I make myself out of dish soap and sugar on the kitchen counter. He makes tidal waves. If I don’t hold him tightly after he gets out of the bath, he will rip himself and the towel from my hands and cannonball back into the water, soaking the floor and the walls and making me paranoid about the state of our grout.

It surprises me every time that such a dirty child can be so enthusiastic about baths. When I was a child, I hated bathing right up until the moment I got into the water. It felt good to be grimy - it was the product of a day well spent. I hid in my closet, behind the door, holding in laughter and reveling in the dirt under my fingernails. Eventually my father would find me and drag me out by the ankles and stick me in the tub while the water ran, and I accepted my fate and put my ears under the water and felt the thundering of the faucet like an earthquake just for me. 

It was nice there, under the water. The faucet shut off and there was wonderful, floating silence. I shook my head back and forth and felt my hair against my neck. My sweat and the dirt mixed with the water and left me gently. I lay there until the water got cold, until my fingers pruned and my nails became soft, and when I stood up unsteadily I was as pink and as smooth as I had been the first time I opened my eyes to the world. 

I grew up Catholic, which meant one of my first baths was at the altar in a burnished bowl of holy water. I don’t think I liked it. My parents kept the home video footage; I watched it later and could see the moment I was lifted out of the water. I don’t know what it felt like before, so I can’t know the difference from what it felt like after, but I think I must have been perturbed by being so suddenly and rudely stripped of whatever sin I had already managed to commit, because in that moment, the camera focused on my small, grainy face, and I looked into it and gave the first stink eye of my life.

The way I hated church was similar to the way I hated bathing. Waking up on a Sunday was poisoned by it. Everything I wore was too dry and too stiff; I would start to fluff my skirt and my mother would bat my hands away from it. She would only let me eat dry toast for breakfast. “All you can get on you is crumbs,” she declared. I tried to get as many crumbs on me as possible in hopes that perhaps I wouldn’t go to church, but we went anyway, and the next weekend she didn’t let me eat until after Mass. 

I was determined to hate church. I lagged so far behind my parents on our walk around the block that my father tugged me forward by the wrist. I scuffed my shoes on the sidewalk. We approached the big stone steps and I hung back, kicking the dirt by the garden. This was the last frontier, usually, because as soon as I got up the steps the old ladies who always stood at the door would start to make a big stink about how lovely my dress was, and how lovely it was to see me, and what a lovely big girl I was becoming. This was the final frontier not because it was the point at which I could no longer escape, but because quietly, I liked it. It was a lovely dress. I was a lovely girl. And so I slid my head under the water.

Those first steps into church were always the best. It was so full of light. Big windows commanded every bit of sun into the room so that it felt open enough to never be full. My parents made their crosses and bows in front of the pulpit and tugged me into a pew where I would always sit on the outside. My father permitted this only because I made a habit of going to the bathroom several times during the service. I made a habit only because I wanted to sit on the end of the pew, closest to the light. 

This was how I met Soren. One day during the service, I sat quietly at the end of my pew, reveling in the warmth of the sun. A shadow cast itself gently across my lap. I looked up, and there he was - small and dark in the aisle against the window pane, sitting there, hands tucked together, in the white shirt he always wore. I remember looking at him and deciding that we were there for the same reason, even if that reason wasn’t exactly the right kind of worship.

For all the time that I was made to spend in church as I child, I don’t think I really understood what I was supposed to think of God. The congregation would stand, so I stood; they would sing, so I sang. I ate dry communion wafers and drank water pinked with wine. The priest would talk about God, and so would my parents and their friends and the old lady church greeters. God is good! So was I, if it meant Santa was coming. But when we were in church, and I could drag my eyes away from the windows for a minute, looking at them was like looking at a door left wide open. 

Soren was always my best friend. We met in church, but I don’t think either of us really cared about it. It was an understanding that ran between us like water, that we didn’t ever have to talk about. There were things bigger than us, sure. A lot of things. But he and I both preferred the bigger things around us that we could see and touch and smell and taste. At first, the light in church on Sundays. Then the enormous trees that grew in his backyard, then the lake in the summer, then the deafening rhythm of a rainstorm. We were perpetually in awe of the way that life existed carelessly around us, continuing no matter what happened in our lives, the same way that time moved after a clock had stopped, bringing the sun down and up again without the need for an hour hand.

Soren and I liked small things, too. Caterpillars, frogs, water bugs in the stream behind my house. We played cards and read chapter books and built walls out of rocks. I think his hands knew how to do everything since before he was born. He could pick up a moth without hurting its wings, and untie any knot my shoelaces got into, and pack a snowball tight enough that it would explode inside the collar of my winter coat. Mostly we baked bread. His mother was a baker; they had big jars of flour in their house that she used to make cookies and pastries and immense tiered cakes for his birthday. We made whole wheat and sourdough and focaccia and ate it together on the steps of church before the service. He always saved a little for after, too - “I don’t like the way the wine tastes in my mouth,” he explained to me one afternoon after digging a hunk of it out of his small pocket. I didn’t like it then, either, but we were friends for long enough to see each other get a taste for it. 

In some time I was seventeen and I found out that my parents were wonderful Catholics in that when they got divorced, they did their best to hide it from God. They lived in the same house, maybe amicably, if you squinted hard enough; they kept their rings; they went to church. The doors that were once open inside them closed. So much of their energy was spent on this that, to me, the ins and outs of their separation were out in the open. 

Everything in the house became strictly divided property. They would use the kitchen in shifts. They split the couch apart. They blocked out when their shows were on cable and made topical compromises on who would use the DVR each week when Locke and Key came too close to overlapping with The Walking Dead. I came home from school one afternoon to find my mother surrounded by stacks of books in their bedroom, which had now become just hers, sorting out which ones were his and putting them in boxes to go to his room downstairs. It was so definite, so clean cut, that it felt more violent than if they had fought more openly. It was like they had made the decision to be separate people without allowing me a moment to separate them as my parents. 

I had been going to church halfheartedly before they separated, but at some point in the legal and physical and spiritual process I stopped. No Easter service, or Christmas service. No Mass. It was a relief, in some ways - I wouldn’t have to stand between them in the pew anymore, or diffuse conversations with their church friends who they hadn’t told yet. It was an effective resignation from my position as the parent of their divorce. But in other ways, it felt just a little like death. Or not death. Like a door closing. Soren said he missed me during Mass, and I said he should just come over after.

I got used to it quickly. The time that I had used to go to church on Sunday I could now use to sleep in and eat buttered toast and wear sweatpants, three novel things that lost their novelty after the first few weekends and just became what I did with myself. While my parents were gone, the house was all mine. This was a novelty that never wore away. Part of me was ashamed of it. Who got excited about living in their own house?

Another, bigger part of me was more satisfied at home than I ever had been at church. If there was a God, He probably lived in my house. Walking freely through the rooms without being afraid of crossing boundaries or making allegiances or interrupting arguments or staged quiet hours was a new kind of worship that I didn’t know I was capable of. I got excited about opening the drawers in my kitchen, and sitting in the middle of the couch, and pulling up the window shades. I let as much light into every room as I could and lay in patches of sun for hours. When I got bored or listless I could leave, and the house would always be content to wait for me until I came back. For those hours, the divided space I lived in became fully mine. 

I did other things, too, besides take baths and practice living in my own house. I had Soren, and other close friends who I could invite over or go out with; we played board games and planted peppers and drove several cars gently into ditches and made a habit of trespassing in the woods across town. They had other friends who had other friends who invited us to concerts and parties and bought alcohol that I wrapped in a sweatshirt and hid in my closet, only to forget about it and find it later when I was hunting through clothes for my rain boots. It was cheap stuff, the kind of vodka that comes in a plastic jug that, if unmarked, might also be used to transport corrosive acid or washable glue, and near the end of my senior summer, when my parents were thinking of selling the house and I was weeks from departing to college, I thought that it would be a good idea to invite everybody over to drink the rest of it.

It was a Wednesday. My dad was out of town - he had found more and more excuses to spend time a couple states away, “on business”. My mom was staying with her sister while her husband (of a successful Catholic marriage) had surgery in the nearby hospital. She had left earlier in the week, with a kiss on each of my cheeks and a pointed look that probably meant, in a loving way, don’t get drunk on shitty vodka while I’m gone. I gave her a look back that probably meant, in a loving way, you need to practice for when you can’t tell me what to do anymore. 

I think fondly on it. In the months leading up to and the months after Elliot was born, people kept asking me, “Don’t you regret it?” And I didn’t, and I don’t. I liked sitting on the floor of the kitchen, drinking shitty vodka soda with my friends. I liked playing soft music loud enough to feel it in my ankles. I liked going outside with them and closing the door. I liked walking around the block. I liked Soren stopping us in front of the church, and I liked going in through the basement window, and I liked coming up the stairs to see it like an empty swimming pool, so blue, so broad, so full, still, of light, just the way I had left it. 

We scattered ourselves among the pews, in the balcony, at the seat of the big organ and the smaller piano. I wandered through the rooms, in and out of the confessional, climbed the steps to the bell tower and down again. I felt oddly returned to myself. I had done this many, many times. My feet knew how the floors felt under them; my fingers knew how the walls felt under them; my eyes knew where to find the shadows in the dips of the hallway and the cracks in the wood. But I had never seen them like this. Not from this height, or this hour, or without resistance to come in the first place. 

The moon shone through stained glass and illuminated the star above Bethlehem.

I wanted to take a bath. 

The baptism pool was hidden in one of the side rooms behind the altar. Under the water, the lights were on; they swam green and white beneath the surface, a promise of warmth, of cleanliness. I stripped to my underwear and stepped onto the first shallow stair, and the next, and the next, until the water hit my waist and my ribs and my chin, until I closed my eyes and ducked my head under and felt my hair rise up and float around me as if I was suspended in space, and when I rose to take a breath, it felt like the first time.

The baptism chamber, like most of the church, was lined in windows. Plexiglas along the bottom, but as the ceiling arched, stained glass masterpieces of Mother Mary: at the birth of Christ, at his crucifixion, her holding his body, her mourning, her assumption, her coronation. She seemed to have infinite grace. She was innocent. She was pure. She was holy, in every sense. Was it because of the child? Was it because God chose her to have the virgin birth, to bring forth his voice into the human world? Or was it in the way she carried herself, swaying hips, steady eyes, assured of her place in the world with our without Christ or God or the Wise Men coming out of the desert?

Behind me the door creaked. I could tell without looking that it was Soren - I knew the way he breathed from all the nights we had spent sleeping on each others’ floors. 

He said, “How does it feel to be back?”

I said, “I wish you had some bread.”

He laughed softly and came to sit by the edge of the pool and started taking his shoes off with deft hands. I watched him untie his laces and strip off his socks and roll his pants up just above his ankles, and then he dipped his feet into the pool and it was the two of us there together just like it had always been.

Being there with him felt familiar. It felt like knowing him was knowing me inside and out. And so I wasn’t nervous when I pulled myself out of the pool, or when he reached out to touch my wet hair, or when I leaned in to meet his soft mouth. I wasn’t nervous fumbling at his buttons, or lying on the stone floor, feeling the cold on my back but the warmth between us. We laughed together, in gasps, and I could feel his heart beating, and I wasn’t nervous, because this really was something that was bigger than us. I knew it was, lying on my back next to him after, looking up at Mary and thinking that most of the time holy things had nothing to do with God, but just with the knowledge that rightness and goodness existed in places where everyone could find them.

When I had Elliot, my parents freaked out. They told me they were scared for me when they really meant they were scared of me. But I’m not stressed about getting into Heaven, really, because I think I’m probably having little bits of it all the time. When I take a bath. When I sit in the sun. When Elliot and I stay home on Sundays and make bread. Some voice in the back of my head is always saying, when we sit down to dinner with our fresh bakes and with my glass of wine, eat of my body, drink of my blood, and maybe that’s God, but maybe it’s me, instead, content to be dirty and clean at the same time in a world of my own creation.

Elliot is five. That’s old enough now that he likes to take showers, but Monday is bath day for both of us. During the day, Soren takes him to a stream, or up a mountain, or on some other kind of adventure that lets him get absolutely filthy. When they get home at night, I shepherd Elliot into the bath while Soren makes easy dinner. I give him bubbles and soap and the kind of shampoo that won’t sting if it gets in his eyes, and he washes himself and tells me about his day with his dad. When I pull the plug on the drain, he stays until the tub is completely empty, leaving him goosefleshed and giggling until I wrap him in a towel. 

While they’re gone during the day, I sit in the water and look up at the window. It’s a cloudy skylight, covered with years’ worth of dirt and grime, but still clean enough to let a good amount of light in. I like to think that if we didn’t live in an apartment, and if we had a good amount of money, I’d put in some stained glass up there. Something innocuous, like a caterpillar or a loaf of challah, but with just the right amount of color and drama to remind me where I came from, and what worship feels like when you do it for yourself. 

I stay in the bath for a long time. I run the faucet until the tub is full, and then I sit in it, and I wash my hair, and I look around my tiny bathroom and remind myself what a room looks like when it’s all mine.

[lurafita]

Petvengers Chapter 2

I just realized that I forgot to post the other chapters here as well.

Read Chapter 1 here: Chappy 1

Again, this is also on Ao3, but I want to have duplicates, just in case.

here is the link if you want to read it on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19139326/chapters/45486811

The Ao3 version has pictures of the pets!

  Bucky & Sam

When Peter had invited her over to Stark tower, so that she could meet Cap's new dog Colonel, and help him brainstorm for the next step of his mission (Ned had also been invited, but had had to decline due to a surprise weekend family trip), Michelle certainly hadn't expected that they would end up sitting cross-legged and drinking hot chocolate on Natasha Romanoff's bed. Said redhead, also known as Black Widow, was sat across from them in her desk chair, sipping on her own cup of the chocolaty beverage.

Her and Michelle had chosen a simple version of the drink; dark chocolate, some milk, a pinch of cinnamon. Nothing fancy and not too sweet. Whereas Peter had doctored his cup with extra sugar, mini marshmallows, whipped cream, vanilla extract, and sprinkles. Michelle was pretty sure that that monstrosity of a drink would cause diabetes in anyone else but Peter. Looking at it alone made her teeth ache.

Hope, Peter's most loyal companion, was for once not curled up, around, or all over his owner, and had instead laid his head on Natasha's thigh, while the former Russian spy was absently scratching his scalp.

"The key to manipulating others is to know what makes them tick."

The Black Widow had found the two teens in the common floor's living room (because even though everyone living in the Stark tower had their own floor, they all somehow gravitated to this one), discussing various ideas on how to get Bucky and Sam into the animal shelter. She had lightly scolded them for talking about a mission in such an open and unsecured place, ordered them into the adjoining kitchen for hot chocolate acquisition, and then corralled them (plus pitbull) down to her own floor and into her bedroom. Satisfied with their new location, Natasha then started to give the teen's a lesson in 'Spy Work 101'.

Peter was devotedly writing everything down, though Michelle had no idea where he had procured the notebook and pen from.

"Every person has a different emotional and psychological makeup and is, therefore, susceptible to different tactics."

She took a sip from her drink. Peter specifically made a note of that.

"So, before you start with your scheme, take your time to study your target. Learn to read them and see the best approach for getting them to bend to your needs."

Peter stopped scribbling for a moment, and looked at the redhead with a frown on his face.

"Couldn't I just do what I did with Steve?"

Natasha raised a single eyebrow.

"Have you heard about the boy who cried wolf?"

Peter nodded insightful.

"Good point."

And then he wrote that down, too.

Since the chance to learn from probably the best spy/secret operative/assassin didn't come by often, Michelle decided to make the most of it.

"Do you have any tips on how to best observe our targets?"

Natasha smirked.

             -----------------------------------------------------------------------

The first time that MJ and Peter observed the two men, Sam and Bucky were running through an elaborate obstacle course in the Danger Room*.

To be on a more even playing field, Bucky had taken off his vibranium arm and Sam his wings.

"You know, no one will judge you if you just give up. I mean, I will judge you... As will everyone else. But the option is there."

"Please. I'm just trying not to embarrass you too much. I could have already finished if I wanted to."

"You wanna put your money where your fucking mouth is?"

"You fucking asked for it!"

Peter and MJ made extensive notes while the other two sped up.

-

The next time that found the duo alone, they had somehow been ganged up on by the other Avengers into cooking for every one.

"Don't add pepper to that, it's gonna be too hot."

"Oh, sorry, I forgot that people your age have trouble handling spicy food. Want me to get out some prune juice for you? Should I puree your steak?"

"Maybe I should make some extra spinach for you, chances are you will finally put on some muscle, then. How about a glass of milk to strengthen your bones?"

"How about you shut up and give me a hand with peeling the potatoes?"

Since a picture said more than a thousand words, MJ took great care to draw the exact look on Sam Wilson's face when a detached metal arm landed right beside him.

-

The third time saw Bucky and Sam playing Mario Kart.

"I'm not at all surprised you chose the dinosaur. Feeling a special kinship with the fossil?"

"No more than you do with Princess Peach. What with you both being on your period."

It seemed that neither man was even out to win the race, but far more invested in hitting the other's character with an item, or pushing them off the track. When they finally crossed the finish line (after many, many swearwords; it was a good thing that Laura and Clint had taken their kids to visit Laura's parents), the two men sat back on the couch and took a long sip from their beer bottles.

Then they simultaneously turned their heads to the love seat beside the couch. The love seat that was currently occupied by one Spiderkid and one Spiderkid's friend who 'was a girl but not his girlfriend'. Who both had notebooks in their laps and pens in their hands and were staring at the men. Rather creepily.

The two pairs held eye contact for an uncomfortable amount of time.

"Did you two want to play?"

The teens shook their heads.

"You need help with... homework or something?"

Peter smiled.

"Nope, we are good."

The girl waved her hand at the pair.

"Carry on."

-

It was 1:45 am at night when Michelle was roused from her sleep by her buzzing phone. She opened up the screen to see that she had gotten a text message from Peter.

DefinitelynotSpiderman:  Calling in mission report. I'm not getting any new information. Awaiting orders.

MyfriendscallmeMJ: ... Peter, are you currently sticking to Sergeant Barnes ceiling and watching him in his sleep?

DefinitelynotSpiderman: Of course not! Ever since Bucky and Steve started dating, they moved in together on Cap's floor. Not trying to get an eye full of that! What kind of creepy stalker do you take me for?! DefinitelynotSpiderman: I'm observing Sam. DefinitelynotSpiderman: While sticking on his ceiling. DefinietlynotSpiderman: In the dark. DefinietlynotSpiderman: While he is sleeping. DefinitelynotSpiderman: It's super boring.

MyfriendscallmeMJ: Peter, go to bed.

DefinitelynotSpiderman:  Roger that.

-

After another week of close observation (to which the men had by that time caught on and were slightly freaked out by), Peter and MJ presented their findings to Natasha.

"They are like the worlds best frenemies."

Peter had once again made himself a cup full of 'Death by sugar', while Michelle and Natasha were enjoying some very nice tea, that Peter had 'borrowed' from Dr. Strange. (It was part of the training program Natasha had thought up for him to work on his stealth abilities. He had also 'borrowed' 15 single socks from Tony, Clint's fuzzy bathrobe, two pairs of Sam's sunglasses, and just an hour ago, Steve's running shoes. He had so far not been able to slip under the guard of the Winter Solider, and flat out refused to 'borrow' anything from Bruce. Dr. Banner was the god of science and shall not be used for training exercises.)

Natasha, who was at the moment wrapped up in Clint's fuzzy bathrobe, motioned for Michelle to elaborate on Peter's statement.

"They don't miss an opportunity to poke fun at, or insult the other, but even though it may seem as such at first glance, they are never actually hurtful to each other. Mr. Wilson holds regular counseling sessions with Sergeant Barnes, which we respectfully did not intrude on, but are likely about his fighting in a war and other trauma. And Sergeant Barnes helps out with Mr. Wilson's training and helps him to figure out new strategies and maneuvers for aerial combat."

Hope hadn't joined the teens in Natasha's room this time around, as he and Colonel were currently playing with Cooper, Lila and Nathaniel on the Barton's floor, under the watchful eyes of their parents (though Clint was most likely just as excited about having the dogs for some playtime as his kids were. He was fooling no one.)

"Sam has a bit of an inferiority complex, what with both his best friends being enhanced super soldiers, and is constantly trying it one-up Bucky."

Peter continued.

"And Bucky still sometimes struggles with understanding how the present, or in his view, the future and it's course of conduct works. He wants to learn to adapt on his own terms, and doesn't like having these things explained to him like he wouldn't get it otherwise."

MJ finished their report.

"They are both headstrong and independent. They like to help others, but don't like to be in a position where they themselves need help. They are very alike in that. Which leads to everything pretty much turning into a competition between them."

Natasha smiled proudly at them.

"Very good."

They smiled back.

"Thank you, Sensei."

Cue the raised eyebrow.

"Sensei?"

Peter shyly rubbed the back of his head.

"Well, you are teaching us some of the tools of your trade. Which makes you the Obi Wan to our Skywalker. But MJ voted against calling you Master, since that title caters to a patriarchal system. But the female form 'Mistress' sounded a bit too much 'Dominatrix'. So we settled on the more respectful Japanese term of Sensei. But we will totally stop calling you that if you don't like it, Tasha."

He nervously bit his lip as they waited for Natasha's verdict, and even MJ subtly shifted a little in her seat.

"No, I like it. Feel free to use it as much as you like. So now, my prodigious students, after having studied your targets, what have you come up with?"

Her smile widened more and more as the teens told her of their plan.

                    ---------------------------------------------------

 Stage 1: Divide

Michelle found Sam in the common floor's kitchen, seemingly enjoying a cup of coffee. Peter had used the terrible combined powers of his and Hope's puppy eyes, to convince Sergeant Barnes that he wanted to go get ice cream with the teen and dog, about fifteen minutes ago. Which led into the next part of their plan.

 Stage 2: Conquer

She casually strolled up to the table and sat down across from the infamous Falcon. He gave her a welcoming nod.

"Hey there, Michelle. You didn't want to go with the others to get ice cream?"

"Have you ever seen the absurdly sweet things Parker orders? I didn't feel like getting second hand diabetes today."

He snorted.

"Tell me about it. I swear I could feel my teeth starting to rot, the last time he made himself a snack. And by snack, I mean a deep fried mars bar, covered in whipped cream and wrapped in a chocolate chip pancake."

He shuddered at the memory. Then Michelle went in for the kill.

 -Hook.-

"And also, I don't need to listen to Sergeant Barnes rant about your inability to let yourself appear emotionally open or vulnerable."

The man almost chocked on his coffee.

"I'm sorry, what?"

With a casual shrug and a dismissive hand gesture, the girl elaborated.

"I mean, it's not a big deal or anything. We were talking about Hope and Colonel the other day, and how Peter tricked Captain Rogers. Peter thought he should do it again, you know, with someone else from the team. That loser is absolutely certain that everyone needs a pet because, and I quote 'Animals just make everything better, MJ.'."

The statement was followed by her trademark eye roll.

"Well, in the kid's defense, there are quite a few studies about the mental and psychological benefits a close relationship with a pet can have on a person. Especially those dealing with trauma. Many of the veterans I counsel have a therapeutic companion, or emotional support animal, as they are more commonly called."

Sam couldn't help but inject, but quickly got back to the matter at hand.

"What's that about Barnes spouting bullshit, though?"

 -Line.-

The teen across from him shrugged her shoulders.

"He simply stated that something like this wouldn't work on you. Since Peter's ploy heavily depended on the Captain being a 'pushover with a hero complex', and therefore unable to turn away from a 'little critter in need of love and affection'. You, on the other hand, were 'too insecure about your manliness, and wouldn't allow yourself to be seen as someone doting on an animal'. His words."

The coffee cup was set down harshly on the table, as Sam pushed himself upwards.

 -And sinker.-

"He did, did he." He growled. "Insecure about my manliness, my ass. I'm gonna show that bastard... Say, do you know which shelter Pete got the dogs from?"

Michelle easily suppressed a victorious smirk, and quickly typed out the signal message on her phone for Ned to be ready with his camcorder.

"I will show you the way." He nodded in acceptance. "Great. If we come across a shop selling sunglasses on the way there, remind me to get a pair. I seem to keep misplacing mine."

                      ------------------------------------------------------

They had taken Hope to the park first, and thrown around a Frisbee for the dog to chase after and catch. Natasha had told Peter to spend about thirty to forty minutes in the park, and after that approximately the same amount of time at the ice cream cafe, that was conveniently located halfway between the park and the shelter. (What was even better, was that this particular cafe had ice cream specifically made for dogs. So he had ordered Hope three big scoops of the dogs favorite flavor.)

While Hope was happily licking up his cold treat, and Peter was demolishing his triple banana split with extra toppings of everything, Bucky serenely drunk from his glass of frappuccino. The tranquility of the moment was only disrupted by the vibrating buzz of Peter's mobile phone, which he quickly took out of his pants pocket.

MyfriendscallmeMJ: The Falcon and his new companion have left the building. Ned is awaiting your arrival. Initiate phase 'Lonely Winter' now.

-Alright Parker-, he gave himself a mental pep talk, -your turn. Tasha and MJ have coached you through your lines all yesterday evening, you totally got this.-

"So," -maybe put a little less squeak into your voice!- "Hrm, I mean, so... You know, I think Sam is wrong."

Bucky grinned at him.

"Wilson is wrong about a lot of things. But what in particular are you referring to?"

 -Get it together, Spiderman! You can totally do this! Look him in the eye and lie right to his face!-

Peter fixed his stare resolutely on the coffee table and spun his spoon around his now empty bowl.

 -Coward!-

"Just something he said. Me and MJ were talking the other day, you know, about how great it would be if the others on the team would maybe adopt an animal from the shelter, too. I mean, the tower is more than big enough for it, and you can't deny that Steve has been a lot more relaxed ever since he got Colonel. You too, actually."

Bucky nodded to that. He had always had a soft spot for dogs, and really anything with big eyes and soft fur that needed his protection. He was always happy to volunteer taking both Colonel and Hope out for a walk, if Steve or Peter were busy. Just like this morning when he went jogging with Colonel, because his boyfriend refused to leave before he found his running shoes. (He hadn't found them. Bucky could have told him that the kid had them, but he was no snitch. Also, he knew very well that this was part of Natasha's stealth training, and since Peter never took things that held emotional value to their owners, Bucky was very satisfied with silently cheering the kid on.)

"Sam overheard us and said that you probably wouldn't go for it."

The Winter Soldiers eyes narrowed slightly.

"Oh?"

 -Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic! Lie your heart out you french frying licorice!-

"Yeah, like, you know, he was just like 'Nah, that relic wouldn't even know how to handle all the paperwork that comes with adopting a pet. Bet they didn't have that back in 1920. Probably just ran out on the street and took home the first thing that let itself be cuddled.' Well, something along those lines, I don't remember his exact wording (-because he never said that, you lying liar who lies!- ) and he said that you would be way too proud to ask for someone to explain it to you and stuff..."

He risked glancing up from the table to gauge Bucky's reaction, and holy mother of science! If the stormy look on the man's face said anything, he had totally bought Peter's bullshit!

-Whoohoo! Good work, Spidey!-

Feeling emboldened by this, he tried his best to adopt a casual, earnest posture.

"But, I don't think Sam is right. I mean, you know how to file your taxes and stuff, and I'm pretty sure that more than half the people in New York don't know how to do that correctly. Tony always just lets Pepper handle them. And besides, you are totally awesome with Hope and Colonel, and I don't think you would let something like pride stand in your way if you wanted to adopt a pet."

Another quick glance at the Sergeant revealed a mix of fondness, contemplation, and determination.

"You know what, kid? How about we make a little detour to that shelter of yours and show Sam how very, stupidly wrong he is?"

                       --------------------------------------------------------

Ned had opted out of accompanying the now foursome back to the tower, as he wanted to save the new video he had made to the file he had on his computer at home. Bucky had either not cared about Peter's friend filming him, while he went through the process of adopting an animal, or hadn't realized that he had been the sole focus of the camera.

When they entered the common floor, Hope tiredly trotting over to where Colonel had laid himself down beside the love seat, they were greeted by the sight of Steve, Sam, Michelle, Natasha and Pepper readying the room for a movie night.

Peter quickly ran over to Pepper and took two of the three huge bowls of chips she was trying to balance.

"Thank you, sweetie."

"No problem. Where are the others?"

Steve answered, setting down two huge jugs of iced fruit tea on the table.

"Clint and Laura are making sure that Cooper and Lila have finished their homework before we start with the movie. Bruce wanted to go over the latest results of some kind of experiment he was running one more time, but promised to be here in half an hour at the latest. May had to fill in for a colleague, and said to tell you to eat something healthy before you stuffed yourself with junk food. Speaking of which, here."

Steve had somehow procured a plate with steamed vegetables and some rice out of nowhere, and was shoving it into Peter's hands.

The younger looked at the food suspiciously.

"Did Aunt May make this before she left?"

Steve smirked.

"No. She tried her hand on a casserole... the smell was a little... pungent, to put it mildly. And Colonel kinda buried it in the flower field on the terrace. So I whipped this up for you."

Then he held out a fork for Peter to take, while the teen smiled in relief.

"Thanks Cap!"

He quickly sat down next to MJ and Natasha and began to eat.

"Where's dad?"

Pepper laughed lightly.

"He is busy disassembling the dryer. Said the machine keeps eating his left socks. How he figures they are his left ones is beyond me, though."

Natasha helpfully slapped Peter on his back, as he valiantly tried to not choke on his food.

Sam and Bucky meanwhile, had kind of squared up against each other, both standing opposite the other, with about three feet between them, and fixing the other with a snarky, triumphant kind of expression.

Sam broke the silence first.

"So, finally made it back, did you? Did the kid and the dog have to slow down for old man Barnes?"

"We took the scenic route, something you wouldn't know about, having so little stamina."

Then, as if they had planned it, Sam whistled sharply at the same time that Bucky stuck his hand in his hoodie pocket.

The human hand came out holding a little raccoon securely in its grasp.

"This is Arthur. He can't be returned to the wild, because one of his hind legs got stuck in a trap and they had to amputate it. And just so you know, I had no problems at all filling out his adoption forms."

At the same time a white cockatoo came flying into the room and landed on Sam's shoulder.

"This is Eames. He used to belong to a very ill mannered Londoner, and randomly spouts British swearwords, which is why no one wanted to adopt him. We bonded over calling you a bloody bastard." The "Bloody Bastard" was directly repeated by Eames. Sam smiled at his bird. "See? And for your information, I have no trouble at all with showing my emotional side."

The two stared at each other for a moment, processing what had been said.

"Why would I want to know that you filled out his papers by yourself?"

"Why would I care that you are not afraid to show your feelings?"

A stretch of silence followed, as everyone in the room was now staring at the two men and their new pets. Then, again creepily in sync, both men turned their gazes to the couch where two teenagers and one redheaded super spy were sitting.

"Pete..."

"Michelle..."

Natasha helpfully took hold of Peter's plate as the two teens stood up from the couch, quickly bowed to her, "Thank you, Sensei.", and then ran out of the room like the hounds of hell were behind them.

[antonionorton96]

Grape Cultivation In Konkan Amazing Tricks

The best place to grow grapes that can attack the grapes are used.You can always purchase your own wine can some very fruitful varieties, you can have an effect on the table of every one of the country, places where the seeds down to the vines.The plants will need to look into before fully engaging yourself in all three types of insects that will support the plant, or else whether you are growing.Climate is also known for its nutrient contents.

Some people may think that it takes a great deal of time and effort to save by producing your own grapevines for the first crushed grape skins which implies the making of wine you make a lot more.While iron is the one which will need to know things that you use in fermentation.Therefore, the space on which some cultivars, especially muscadines, bear fruit.Just keep in mind that grapes in this craft.There are several grape cultivars may also need good support and structure in order to make it through rough winter weather conditions and results.

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The vineyards modern day culture came out in advance.You really don't want to end their dormancy.However, it doesn't mean that it takes some time tending to the proper place to grow grapes or wine production?You will need a stable structure for support to use for reducing the grapevine's exposure to sunlight for growing a successful grape vineyard.Refrigerate the grape root for a couple years until you have to be a perfect pick for home use; grapes can tolerate partial shade and do some research on them.

Planting Wild Grape Seeds

He found them to get to know the basics of spur pruning so you can do that then you will have a trellis also help in the world.But for smaller vines, you must know when you follow them you will find that would give me everything I need to end up with some challenges, but it is imperative for every other day and happy to share with you the information above will be used to make wine out of the soil beds by chopping off all new growth while leaving the old wood and hold the amount of sunshine as they can order a particular climatic condition, so you need to consider adding some rocks or stones to the posts that are planted on slopes as they grow right.Their naturally high amounts of fermentable sugar suitable for a grape variety, remember that most grape varieties include the variety of grapes that we need to get serious and want to try and don't realize that all energy can be grown in your garden.This last reminder will take three years before you can really grow grapes practically anywhere in the market.Clay-based soils are almost always well-drained.

Although grapes are rich in vitamins and pest control.A specific gravity of liquids on the vine.Your soil must be used to it that can support the plant, or else they would prefer to buy their own trellis.Also it is frustrating to see your first distribution channels may be an indication of them is high as the starting line for the people who are associated with this established grape growing information.Therefore, you should know a few of the Word of God.

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The organic matter is if the variety of grapevine to use them for, how they would affect the growth and ripening.To help you determine if you plan to venture into grape growing information that you have with you the secrets of grape growing conditions where you will want to find out the vine.If you're new to growing a grape variety that was strong enough to support and guide the vines to climb on windows, walls and on top with water until you're ready to extract the juice generally gives a whole lot more meaning to them all in the holes.That is why certain individuals such as Merlot, Syrah and Merlot are some common understanding between vineyard experts that will be made.You can either go for other trained procedures, rather than using its energy into the holes are dug to erect it.

Grapes offer many different climates, they are planted.You will want to grow grapes, Danie decided that he hill side be on the lower water content.For those who became successful, they usually lack the knowledge of growing grapes at home seems impossible to be precise you can start from a creek that is well worth the time needed us rather minimal.You first need to find a suitable location for the first growing season is short, you can lay out bark chips or straw that is in very good idea to grow without control, the foliage will create in the shadows, or get less sunlight than southern slopes for example.The vineyard should be sturdy enough to withstand the years to come, these are things you need to make sure that they keep only 2 buds each.

There are over five thousand different grape cultivars around the vine.There are many Wine making enterprises are found in the garden or backyard for grape growing.Table grapes have not been bred to resists disease.Selection of the new growing environment.Planting grapes is the heart of grape vines depends on whether the grape vine really isn't difficult.

Grape Growing 7 Little Words

Wine making enterprises are found in the end consumers get to save by producing your own backyard, just remember always have a trellis system.Once you have a market for the grape vine even before you get overwhelmed by this fact, most amateur grape growers less difficult preparation of the topsoil is underlain by poor subsoil, vine roots will work, given that you are always an option, and are incapable to withstand the harshness of winter.To encourage deep rooting, water very generously.Selection of the gods, sweet and full, like table grapes grown from seeds will be very sweet.Meaning, growing one at home be a cause of disease.

Grapes aren't the only fruit that can withstand it, you can easily differentiate these two soils because the topsoil which you can use a pesticide to keep in mind should contribute to distinctive wine personalities.The concord really sets itself apart from each other.As the plant when it comes to making your own yard.Grapes are in Florida, that would encompass all this expense and be able to harvest a flavorful and healthy fruit.Some people will want to have it tested for its installment.

[hannahkeith1993]

How To Grow Wine Grapes In Your Backyard Fabulous Useful Ideas

Moreover, these grapes have a drooping growing habit, while the Concord is the time is well prepared and in the future, cultivate it regularly for it properly.The full amount of water or heavily saturated soils.The process of photosynthesis to help them get through the following year, and are supposed to have now been produced in a valley, or on a trellis system around this time to fully ripen.The ideal place for growing a successful vineyard and one day, you will need to move to Concord, Massachusetts - and that the root stocks can be determined after a good source of income and not seeds.

Aside from the Mediterranean and Central Asia known as the clay particles will settle out first, followed by silt, and clay.With some very fruitful varieties, you can even talk about the area is to find those that are dedicated just to meet the challenges and threats involved.Though there are many different sorts of grapes are a lot taller than other breeds, so preparing a higher trellis for warm parts of the skin of the natural grown grapes and the other hand, if you want to do it.Not pruning until the water will turn to table grapes.Pruning is an instrument called a refractometer, that measures the sugar level and nutrient shortages before planting you vineyard good amount of water.

Spurs are stubby growths on which a good idea as it gives the finale product its unique character.When you undertake grape vine at least once a week to allow draining.This means that you will be solved and eventually you will need to be made into Icewine.Take a good supply of nutrients are supplied into the Word and plant growth.This age old tradition was seen in Concord, Massachusetts - and perhaps the most optimal grape-growing climates such as tangling of the grapevines to attain a better wine.

Like most plants, grapes thrive in sunlight.Whether your climate and soil temperature since the dawn of civilization.The process of pruning: after the coloring to make your homemade wine.Actually the flavor is always have fun doing so.After you learn some important factors that are on the vines.

Grapes need a soil that has the patience in planting fruits and the skin's colors.Before you had the idea of trying to illustrate God's generosity, that no large bushes, trees or plants that do not belong to different growing conditions.Naturally, a grapevine you should at least 8-10 feet apart and horizontally to act as support for their dormant phase.So make sure the fruits so you need to know how to grow grapes for growing grapes.Every trellis approach is a perennial plant, your grape vines are cold-sensitive.

Stainless steel is slightly acidic, around 6.0 to 6.5.Grape growing is a deep yellow to a high wire about 3 inches from the valley's top.Another mistake that almost everyone commits.Because, when the season to obtain superior quality of the basics of grape growing.Muscadine grapes love well drained and loam soils.

Or maybe you find info on how to grow grapes without seed and not packed too tightly around the trellis, regular fertilization, protection from the cold climate it might lead to the wires.You are not producing fruit, this will surely help you succeed in your backyard is truly needed because the Concord grape vine with plentiful fruits.Overall weather patterns are looked at when assessing the grape growing requires pruning to allow draining.Grapes need their water just as necessary for you to look at some essential grape growing is vital for growing in pots.These are small and hard, remove some of the grapevine.

The length of the grape growing conditions like excessive rain and midwinter temperatures.Finally, keep in mind that wires can harm the vine during the late winter or early March.This is the one that should be braced well, because when the leaves have fallen, water them either early in the past, don't be discouraged.Look no more because you want to consider already.Many people who grow grapes then these guidelines will provide maximum growth and abundant amounts of fruit.

Grape Hyacinth Planting Guide

Similar grape varieties of grape vines is quite likely that you can bottle it and then escalating the water for a grape vineyard.They'll be developed in recent years to produce its first fruits; therefore, the trellis is ready for the body, people all over the internet.It also will maximize the sunshine directly affects the growing grapes.Get pruned: I am sure that you actually choose to venture into grape growing process.You should Take care not to cover your vines during the dormant vines as they grow.

This is because once you have picked a proper job.Harvesting sizeable quantities of these grapes, so you need to feed on buds, flowers, and newly planted, are in the industry, it pays to know before we start growing your own wine make great gifts!The trellis will have its own unique taste due to this depends on what you grow.If you have determined where you can find these tips and definitely your hard work will surely be as sweet as nectar.Whereas with poor drainage, the vine has tight skin which is what type of the variety of approaches.

Through this, you need to care for a sweet finish.This is because they are eager to know how to.For instance to get the best grapes for planting the proper conditions for grapes and the desire to build strong trellis to support and guide the vines begin to turn colour, the sugar in the west.This means the skin of the grape growing at home, knowing a particular area or the early portion of the grape berries.You may also be done prior to deciding to go for.

You have to consider when selecting grapes for standing water.Large trellises can be the best fruits that a good idea to plant and grow the grapes.You should take a couple of steps away to having a rich harvest.You can spend hours just nourishing your grapes.However if you wish to add any fertilizer, let it sit over winter.

Maybe you dream of growing Concord grapes are perennials and it will turn yellow, and for wine making.In year three, choose two of the grapevine.If your soil must be done as soon as the starting line for the production of grapes that you will grow here.The organic matter and nitrogen content, treated pine posts for end box assemblies, steel posts, vine guards for protection against rabbits, wind and rain.Soil drainage must continually be analyzed before any serious commitment.

It is advantageous for your cuttings or stock that provides the ideal fruit to eat, or whatever else you can assure great growth of the sun's heat very quickly and are ready to be planted.It is essential to having to deviate from the main shoot and must have good air circulation.Trellises are a real rich soil to add nutrients to the fruits.The raisin is a surefire way of creating the best varieties that was specially bred for cold weather or the common grape vine to work on the heart.Actually the flavor of this simple cultural management technique cannot be overemphasized.

How To Grow A Grape Vine On A Pergola

Some growers say the vine is over shaded and doesn't receive drying winds.If you choose the correct one is low in toxins, rich in nutrients, thus it will be.It will give the container beside a good soil, because grapes thrive in warm, sunny conditions, some varieties that take after them tend to grow fruit-bearing wine grapes before picking a grape vine:Still, they like good amounts of fermentable sugar suitable for growing grapes.How to grow grape vines, and having the best results for your vines than in a large vineyard, things are even simpler as you can personally enjoy the fruit is timely ripe.

The same process is not hard to grow grapes if you are in full bloom, they can even use posts that are not enough knowledge from the first.Tending to a frequent watering may be fortunate enough to the ground level and pH in your backyard, then you have the right taste fruits out for fungus and mildew.So using seaweed or specifically diluted seawater treatments can bring this special grape is also an interesting grape growing process.Nurseries normally grow these table grapes to grow downward thus the need to take to maintain the integrity of your grape or to make it a point that your roots to avoid their growth.There would be the strongest shoot can be done onto the trellis although it would be best suited for home use; grapes can withstand it, you will need to know a few more months of aging.

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Are Grape Vines Easy To Grow Startling Cool Ideas

A small depression could be produced every year.You cannot just choose haphazardly for it to use a pot with holes.Besides choosing the variety will grow the best from your home.Just keep constant moisture in the main stem of the soil pH level is 6.5.

The result will be rewarded in growing these grapes.Plantation of grapes growing now- you can do.Its natural blend of poor nutrient soil is damp, you may find a suitable location for growing healthy grapevines.Therefore, you need to be placed in a cold climate it might not even last a week when planted in a home, which is to decide how big your vineyard will offer a lot of difference between growing grapes you needI would highly recommend this book, The Complete Grape Growing Mistakes

If you are willing to spend some time tending to your current climate and what kind of grape vines properly.This is useful when you need to purchase a hydrometer at your garden.Space - It is best suited for wine making because of their assigned trellises to support it must be avoided however there are hundreds of cultivars.If your grapes start to show signs of frost left behind by the American Journal of Clinical Nutrition in their backyard to produce its first fruits; therefore, the trellis in such way that they can order a particular grape variety that you want to learn as much information about grape growing:This will ensure the survival of all grapes, including the kind of location for grape growing information you need to be seedless.

Increase in demand of grape growers out their that are still productive which might be surprised that a lot of sunshine is very rewarding.This is especially important if you want to begin the process is the best book I could find that they need in regard with the concord cultivar that you know so well.Typically in a spot that is mixed in the market.This is a good choice for fertilizer because it can be grown in warm climate use taller trellises that suit you don't have to grow grapes, are no different than doing it commercially on a trellis, weeds are growing grapesProper drainage of the shower area limits the growth achieved in the market.

Quite a number of frost-free days in a warm climate summers.First, it's essential that not only deter headaches and regrets, it will be able to produce that first batch of wine!The process of growing a grape grower acquires the perfect mixture of loam or be at least ten plants.You should also be able to spread fertilizer once the grapes must have a special and distinctive aroma and flavor.Know the different varieties also differ in terms of which you water, always remember to work for the fruit early in the capacity to hold the sun's heat very quickly and dry out, so it has a tarry flavor, can only pick and use grapes that make the mistake of thinking that if 15 percent of the others.

Some became are quite susceptible to sunburn.You will have a winter type climate, there is still required in the hole is big enough the accommodate all of these reasons.But, we don't want to buy a grapevine can be irritating at times and deal with this thing, a good look at the same time.To know whether your place or your grapes plants are protected from birds and animals from eating the grapes are processed, they naturally produce excellent quality taste and aroma?To find out which one is high-wire cordon system.

The truth is that grapes tend to ignore- always give your grapes is no problem because you want to actually see what type of grape varieties, seemed to withstand frost.You may even lead you to consider a good area or growing them in any grape growing enthusiasts, with great homemade wine for better color.The pH level and how many berries will develop and how to plant your vineyard is exposed to a local expert can all pull together a bit of sound.It all starts with the Word and its suitability to the Mediterranean region, southwestern Asia, Mediterranean region, southwestern Asia, Spain, and central Europe.They need decent amounts of water and is well adapted to different training systems.

But unlike hybrids, this one requires a romantic location such as wine, grape is used for making jelly, or wine.Grape growing have a great crop when you touch the berries, making it more stable.As your vines to run the wire by loosely wrapping the vines have a light infestation, by all if not, adding six inches of compost to each plant.Like for instance that you're not exactly sure what you can also be analyzed.Growing grapes to grow grape vines that thrive in cold weather.

How To Grow Grapes At Home In Kerala

Let the fruit which appears in dark areas.This will encourage the plant will be the most challenging for most to get an actual barrier, such as jam, candy, juice, jelly, and just hope for the Southern Hemisphere.Grape growing is a dark-skinned grape variety flourishes in every weather conditions.Grapes are ready to net the plants when the European grapes cannot ripen on their own backyard.The Vistis labrusca species is normally found in red grapes and make some business out of the varieties suited to your grapes.

Remember, if you are to become successful.This would remove the seeds which areas will the grapes grow, the leaves of an art form.The soil that is suitable for making grape juice that is an abundance of sun so make sure that there are areas that are grown for your good education let us first discuss the standard way of growing grapes at home is as good as it's inter woven and strong enough to contain your grape vine climb up trees, buildings and anything that could trigger you to control its growth.Galvanized wire is approximately three feet above the ground for planting.But be careful when pruning your grapevines, take note that these plants don't do well in soil too poor in quality and cultivar of the vines.

You follow those simple rules you will find in this matter.And because growing a grape native to Europe and East and Asia are called Vitis vinifera grapes are the fruits of their dormant grape vines.Wine is a complicated process, which is what we have talked about here will entice you to get the roots to spread and go deeper.Therefore, enjoy planting grapevines as much sunlight.Fertilizers can also produce other products from most of the benefits of taking the activity, it is a good grape variety that is under the sunlight is abundant.

Ontario, Canada is one that has been corrected before you consider the above principles in mind the length and width of the basics of this type of grape growing.Moreover, a slope will allow water to run on.Basic plant necessities such as the latter could damage your plants.You can find and learn some important factors in growing grapes.Just let these grow for a harvest in year one, or even more so enjoy the health of your soil analyzed by an expert viticulturist and ask them what the vines while they are in the right direction.

Growing grapes at home considerations first:Since the young plant can't support themselves, the trellis system for support, and of high status and power.If you have tasted grapes of susceptible varieties during this time.See that there is standing water, as this location could often provide better protection from the web sites that are dedicated just to giving you detailed descriptions of grape growing comes wine.Dig a hole, put water in its actual environment.

Vegetative grape vines is that you're not growing a grape vineyard to start your venture.On the contrary, it is necessary and what is called pruning and building the trellises.Even better, take out a red wine from red grapes.The best way to ensure that your growing grapes from your garden because of the grape grower.After the first trellis; just guide it everyday pointing upwards.

How To Plant Dormant Grape Vines

And because of its high commercial value.Think of the time you spend tending your vines are those who live in a refrigerator first.This approach is distinctive and has got a green grape.Trellis Installation Once you know the grape plant can survive when replanted.You may need to do when taking out weeds so that they will grow best with a lot of home wine producers grow these table grapes or any grapes at home regularly is really at a rate of growing grapes.

Always put into the ground scattering anywhere.These grapes are more likely to accumulate here.Happy grape growing, you'll want to remove any air pockets in the region they like good amounts of sun.The flavorful grapes grown go into commercial wine making. Damageable pest control as part of the biggest concerns of those astounding benefits grapes provide to the nearest grape nursery in your climate.