#nutmeg second life | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rayveneyed · 5 months ago

Text

cw: smut / cisfem!reader / scent kink

something nobody ever considers about satoru gojo is that he’s very particular about scents.

it’s a weird side effect of the six eyes that is rarely ever spoken of, by him or any other; along with his fantastical sight, his ability to distinguish minute details kilometres away, to read the ever-twisting flow of cursed energy, yadda yadda yadda — the extrasensory perception he was granted the second two gametes fused into a zygote had skyrocketed every perceptible sensation above the level of the average human. leagues above the level of not-so-average humans, too, but that’s a story for another time.

beneath the slightly dusty smell of skin cells and flesh, each person is different. diet and exercise play a huge part, of course, but then there’s the more obvious things — perfume, toiletries, surroundings. nanami always smells like paper and sandalwood. nobara, sweet and fruity, with a sneaky undertone of something synthetic — something almost hospital-like. yuji smells like grass and citruses, like he’s just popped open a can of something fizzy and caffeinated on the lawns of jujutsu tech. but if he had to choose a favourite…

“could — could you, um—”

one really must forge their own little bits of happiness in this line of work. the constant death and despair really puts a damper on one's lust for life. for gojo — sweets, cute little figures, themed cafes and expensive cakes, things that pleasantly appeal to and delight each one of his six senses. you, in a similar way, enjoy the finer things in life — cashmere and vicuña wool, luxury furniture for your top-floor apartment, century-old wines with names you cannot pronounce — and, to gojo's delight, perfumes.

oh, you have one for every day of the year, he's sure. white florals bursting with zesty citrus, bergamot and black tea when the weather cools. there's fluffy vanillas and sugar-sweet marshmallows, tempered with the smooth depth of sandalwood. osmanthus seeping with syrupy apricots and and peaches. cloves and nutmeg and cypress for the days when the clouds split open and tokyo turns grey.

with your back pressed against the couch and gojo flush against you, hips slotted between your pillowy thighs, he's able to dig his nose right into the curve of where your jaw meets your neck, exactly where you spritz your perfume every morning. today, it's one of those delicious, good-enough-to-eat type of smells; white chocolate and macadamia nut and — fuck, he almost moans against you. sugar and spice and everything nice — you smell like everything he's ever wanted to gorge himself on. he's reminded of the cheap, strawberry body spray you used to use back in high school — how the scent would catch on his nose when you walked past, how it lingered on his jacket when you brushed against him. he shivers.

he lifts his lips from your skin — lifts his nose from the cradle of your neck to give you a distracted, slightly disgruntled, "huh? what?"

it's only without the smell of you clouding his nose that he suddenly realises that you're squirming against him — the heat of your clothed pussy pressing against his hardened cock, layers of cotton and denim and linen between you both leaving you with only the slightest, most irksome hint of pleasure. even with his blindfold fastened over his eyes, it's all so much.

"just — i need something," you say, exasperated. your forehead's dewy with sweat, glasses slipping down the bridge of your pretty nose. "you've been at this for ages."

"ah, my bad." but he doesn't stop. how can he tear himself from your warmth, the heat of you radiating from your skin, your arms wound around his neck and fingers in his hair? how can he leave even a single inch of space between you, when your chest is heaving with excitement and the musky sweetness of your arousal is reaching his nose? he satisfies both your needs for stimulation with slow, curling rolls of his hips, dull pleasure tingling up his spine and leaving him shuddering. "i thought you were more patient."

"you — you're the one that dragged me in here," you say, even as your breathing gets heavier, even as your head falls back with a whine, baring the column of your neck to his greedy, seeking nose. "i told you i have plans, so unless you—!"

"alright, alright," he concedes, though all of your arguments about the time have been half-hearted at best. "don't you worry, i'll take good care of you — real good care."

"you sound like such a sleaze when you say stuff like that."

"mhm." for a moment, he lifts his head — and he doesn't have to look at his reflection mirrored in your eyes to know that his pupils are blown wide, his cheeks flushed pink. you're not much better off — for all your whining and posturing, your proverbial claws aren't much more dangerous than those of a scrappy little kitten. beneath it all, your breathing is laboured, your blood vessels dilated. you smell sweeter, like your body is a ripening fruit or blooming flower, opening for him. your blood rushing to the surface of your skin, heating up the fragrance oils still dotted along your flesh, turns it all heady and head-dizzying.

you want him — you can deny it all you want, but he can see it clear as day. the reminder sends what little blood remains in his head straight to his cock.

"you smell sweet," satoru says, blank and dumb. "when you're horny."

for a moment, you pause. embarrassment — and arousal, though you probably won't admit it — has you locking up. a hint of bitterness turns your fragrance — like burning chocolate — before you huff suddenly, smacking at him until he begins to back up. "oh, my god — you're so shameless, satoru—"

"no, i'm serious! h—hey, stop!" he argues, wriggling until he's back in your good graces again. he dips his head to your skin again, teasing you with little nips along your neck. you'll see the bruises it leaves tomorrow and demand he make it up to you with sweets that he'll just have to eat with you, earrings that glimmer in garnet. for now, though, he’ll get a little serious.

"you get a little sweeter when you cum too, y'know," satoru coos. he tugs at his blindfold, blinking as unfettered light filters into his retina. it's sensory overload, overstimulating and overwhelming, but it's exactly what he wants: to see you, feel you, taste you, smell you — be engulfed by you in every way he can. as if drawn there, his hand sneaks between the tight fit of your bodies, slipping under the hiked-up hem of your skirt and petting at your underwear — soaked, as he’d expected, coating the tips of his fingers. "like syrup. i wanna smell you like that.”

his tongue peeks out over your pulse point, touch reaching up and up and up to that fantastic little ball of nerves he adores. you let out a moan so loud that even he’s taken aback. giddiness bubbles in the pit of his stomach — giddiness, horniness, it’s all the same to him — and he shoves his nose so hard into your skin he swears it’ll bruise. ah, there it is. he’s barely even touched you, too. it’ll be even better when he does.

“g—god, you’re horrible,” you say, arching into him, like you can’t bear to be apart for even a second.

“me?” satoru laughs. you’re distracting from the task at hand, though he usually doesn’t mind. he can’t help but respond, giving you your own attitude back a thousandfold. it’s just now, when it’s been so long since he’s gotten his fill of you, he’s just… a little impatient... “oi, don’t get all embarrassed — you always get so mean.”

“then stop saying things like that, and i won’t have to be — a—ah!”

satoru suckles at the cold-hardened flesh he’s just taken in his mouth — your mouth falling open in wonder and your chest heaving as he takes your nipple between two dull rows of teeth, humming. between his fingers and his mouth, you’ll soon be rendered almost completely silent, shuddering and twitching in what he knows will be a strong, satisfying orgasm — sweet with sweat, salt and musk gathering between your legs. looking up at him with glassy eyes and calling his name. his mouth waters.

he better get a move on, though: you have plans, after all.

#been reading too much sweat and soap i fear #and i love fragrances #so im making it everyone else problem >:)#is this a taggable fetish. should i tag this #anyways hes just like a littke freak i love him #u show him an ounce of love and his dick is diamond hard. pls get a grip #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #anime x you #anime smut #anime x reader #gojo x you #ah girl help i keep adding pointless banter to my fics girl help #not proofread and im multiple hours past my bedtime. honk shoo

539 notes · View notes

lych33dragoncookie · 25 days ago

Text

Continuing on from my last post;

Right, so about that certain someone. After we see Burning Spice FUCKING MURDER SOMEONE, we get on to their rematch. And-

... Hm. Not normal. You're enjoying this a bit too much

During the fight, we get to see something interesting; Spice's own followers ditching him and Nutmeg Tiger, despite orders to go after Smoked Cheese. Not out of some sudden rush of conscience, no; but the realization that, no matter how hard they try, how closely they follow him, how much they embody everything he stands for, in the end, following him can only result in their own destruction. That they're better off escaping than dying for the sake of someone who couldn't care less what their fate is.

On top of that, we get to see one of my favorite tropes! A protagonist refuting the ideals of a "hero", admitting that they fight for reasons that on the surface could be seen as selfish and short-sighted, but that are born from a massive amount of care and emotion, loyalty, and a desire to protect what matters to them, rather than stopping a great evil, sticking to a rigid moral compass, or any sort of other pretentious ideals.

And we get to see, visibly, undeniably, just how far she's willing to go to protect that which she cares for. We get to see her closer to death than absolutely anyone else we've ever seen before, with visible damage, about to crumble into pieces. And, despite that, despite her state, she never stops fighting. Not for a second. No matter how close she is to death's door.

Alongside this, Smoked Cheese, at the end of an exhausting fight, has some words about his queen.

At the end of it all, her love is what makes her powerful. It's what will lead her to greatness, no matter what. Her bountiful nature is the gift she has to give to those around her, and what keeps her going. It's not logical, it's not rational, something which drives Smoked Cheese off the fucking wall, but even he has to admit that it doesn't have to be. That it's what got here where she is in the first place.

You'd think that this would be setup for something that happens later on, specially with the line "Sycophants, charlatans... even willful traitors... All of them have a place among her treasures. She embraced them all... with open arms.", instead of just being there so that Smoked Cheese can tell Nutmeg Tiger that her ruler sucks complete ass and his' doesn't, but... Well, we'll get to that later.

Anyways, back to the freak.

Again with this? I don't say this in an exasperated tone, I just think there's something severely wrong with him. He's just trying to get her to go feral like him for fun. Weirdo. Also, as I mentioned before, holy hell this is the most visceral it's ever gotten. We've never seen any other character this physically damaged, so close to actually crumbling. This entire arc continues to be unexpectedly brutal in every way it possibly could be, and honestly for what it's going for, it just works.

Also, I'm stuffing the below line into my pocket for later. You'll see why.

After this, Golden Cheese refutes every bit of Burning Spice's own mentality in much the same way I did the last post, and it gets under his skin. Really, really badly. To the point where he basically just ends the fight outright, more or less. ... Until Golden Cheese gets her obligatory powerup. It's cool as hell, and it works with the very same base that I mentioned earlier, of her care & love for everything she holds dear and her strong undying urge to protect it all until her last breath, an urge to protect her treasures, everyone who's filled her life with joy up to this point, and it's all strong enough to draw forth her soul jam and awaken her true power and all that other power of friendship stuff. Not anything too mind-blowing considering we've seen it before with Dark Cacao, but it certainly hits a bit harder because Golden Cheese is just a deeply lovable character who does not hesitate to wear her heart on her sleeve, a really warm presence who you want to see succeed simply because of how much her love and desire to give to others shape her every action.

As is to be expected; there is no third act breakdown from Burning Spice here. In fact, he's having the time of his life!

... And then. He. Just.

Gets hit once. And it's over.

...

Y. You. You j. HUH? HUH???

HUH??????????

WHAT. WHAT. WHAT. THE FUCK. ARE. YOU. DOING. THAT'S THE ENDING? THAT'S FUCKING IT? HE JUST GETS HIT ONCE AFTER GOLDEN CHEESE TRANSFORMS, GETS BURIED UNDER SOME RUBBLE, AND THEN YOU NOT ONLY HAVE GOLDEN CHEESE OUTRIGHT SAY THAT HE PROBABLY LIVED THAT BUT ALSO TEASE HIM BEING ALIVE AT THE END???

THAT'S IT? THAT'S THE FUCKING ENDING? THAT'S THE ENDING YOU GIVE TO WHAT WOULD HAVE OTHERWISE BEEN ONE OF OUR BEST STORIES YET?!?!??

WHAT. THE. FUCK. ARE. YOU. DOING. ARE YOU TRYING TO MAKE ME POP A BLOOD VESSEL

THIS SUCKS! THIS ACTUALLY FUCKING SUCKS! THIS IS NOTHING! THIS MEANS NOTHING! YEAH YEAH YEAH GOOD CONQUERED EVIL WHATEVER IT'S NOT ONLY A GENERIC VILLAIN DEFEAT BUT A COMPLETELY UNCEREMONIOUS ONE FOR A CHARACTER WHO IS RIDICULOUSLY WELL WRITTEN AND WHO DESERVED MORE THAN JUST GETTING ONE-SHOT AFTER A SERIES OF REALLY WELL PACED CUTSCENES.

IT WAS ALL. SO. FUCKING. GOOD. ALL THE WAY THROUGH TO THE PART WHERE HE'S LAUGHING MANIACALLY AT HIS INCOMING DEMISE. IT WAS ALL SO GOOD. WE WERE SO CLOSE. AND THEN WHAT DO YOU DO? WHAT DO YOU FUCKING DO? NOT ONLY IS HE JUST OUT LIKE THAT, WITH EVERYONE WELL AWARE HE'S NOT DEAD, YOU HAVE NUTMEG TIGER COME BACK TO HIM, MEANING NEITHER OF THEM HAVE PROGRESSED IN ANY WAY WHATSOEVER, SMOKED CHEESE'S CONVERSATION WITH NUTMEG TIGER WAS ALMOST ENTIRELY POINTLESS, AND THIS WHOLE THING WAS RENDERED UTTERLY MEANINGLESS FUCKIGIIGNFRJGH GHRHRARAHGHRHGHEEJGHJSDG

Okay. Okay. Tantrum aside.

There are so many better ways of doing this. Like. So, so much better. Ways that not only hold more narrative weight, but don't set up a half-assed villain return later on that won't hit anywhere near as hard. Because, seriously, giving Spice another arc as a villain is a horrendous idea. Both from a gameplay and story perspective. The framing here was perfect, everything had gone off really well from start to finish all the way up until that last tiny bit of the story, and you're not going to get this sort of opportunity again. They fumbled. Really. Really hard.

For one...

Hey. Golden Cheese. Remember when you said this?

JUST TAKE HIS FUCKING SOUL JAM

ALL THE BEASTS CAN DO IT WITHOUT ANY EXPLANATION, WHY CAN'T SHE?? WHY ISN'T SHE, SOMEONE WHO IS FULLY OK WITH STEALING FROM SOMEONE SO LONG AS THEY DESERVE IT, SOMEONE WHO EARLIER SAID BURNING SPICE ISN'T DESERVING OF HIS POSITION AS A GOD, SOMEONE WHO WOULD BE MORE THAN WILLING TO THROW IT INTO HER TREASURE PILE, COMPLETELY UNABLE TO TAKE IT, EVEN AFTER BEATING HIM?!?!??!

It would genuinely be that! Fucking! Easy! And guess what? Guess fucking what? IT OPENS UP SO MANY WRITING OPPORTUNITIES! SO, SO MANY! Nutmeg Tiger no longer has a god to worship, the power that gave Spice a hold over his army is now gone, he has to live out as a commoner, not a god, because he never deserved to be a god, not in the slightest. Have GC say something like "you are not a god, you're an impulsive, reckless fool. you do not deserve the power of a god. you're a commoner. nothing less, nothing more." and then take away his soul jam and you're good!!

HELL, IT COULD SET UP A GOOD, BELIEVABLE REDEMPTION ARC, "Sycophants, charlatans... even willful traitors... All of them have a place among her treasures. She embraced them all... with open arms.", IT'S SO EASY, IT HAS ACTUAL SETUP, YOU COULD HAVE SPICE BE A COMMON MORTAL COOKIE THAT HAS TO FEND FOR HIMSELF, EVENTUALLY BEING FORCED INTO A POSITION WHERE HE HAS TO FIND A ROOF TO PUT OVER HIS HEAD IF HE WANTS TO SURVIVE, AND HAVING GOLDEN CHEESE BE THE FIRST PERSON TO OFFER THAT, WHETHER OR NOT SPICE IS WILLING TO IMMEDIATELY ACCEPT IT. YOU'D HAVE A PROPER THIRD ACT BREAKDOWN WHEN HIS SOUL JAM IS TAKEN AWAY WITH SPICE BEING ACTIVELY REFUSED A WARRIOR'S DEATH, BEING GIVEN AN ANTI-CLIMAX, NOT A GLORIOUS DEFEAT BUT A LOSS OF POWER AND A REFUSAL TO END THE FIGHT ON HIS TERMS, COMPLETELY REFUSING TO STOOP TO HIS LEVEL AND FORCING HIM OUT OF A POSITION OF POWER WHILE YOU'RE AT IT

ALL THIS. ALL THESE WRITING OPPORTUNITIES. AND MORE THAT THE COMMUNITY HAS LIKELY ALREADY COME UP WITH. WASTED. COMPLETELY. NOTHING. ALL FOR A QUICK, GENERIC, BLAND, FLACCID, DEVOID-OF-IMPACT VILLAIN DEFEAT.

Ooooohhh my god I am so worked up about this. We were this close. we were this fucking close to peak fiction. We could have had it all. But they fumbled right at the end.

I... I think I'm just going to completely ignore this ending's existence. If they do anything else with Spice from this point onwards? It doesn't exist to me. I'm not looking. Because whatever they do, it won't wash away the bitter taste of the complete fumble they just pulled. In my heart, he got his soul jam taken away, had to find a way to survive on his own, and ended up living in the Golden Cheese Kingdom (out of a lack of any other options and ideas of a potential soul jam recovery from the inside that would eventually be all forgotten about) where he was given a chance to return to normalcy and heal and be free of the burden of immortality.

I'm gonna go tear a hole in a wall with my bare teeth now. See you all.

#jester ramblings #update analysis #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #golden cheese cookie #burning spice cookie #smoked cheese cookie #nutmeg tiger cookie

205 notes · View notes

kcrossvine-art · 1 year ago

Text

G'morning all! Its nice to get back things,. Theres been some roadblocks with med shortages and life, and also with the material for these recipes. So far we've covered a lot of pastries, not because theyre mentioned more often in the series, but because being mentioned lends them more specificity in flavor than things like gravy, peas, or various meats. The latter can be prepped, seasoned, and served in so many different ways that it feels harder to make them 'faithfully' because a packet of instant potato mash is just as faithful as a pot of buttered potato mash. Baked goods tend towards 1, maybe 2, 'base' recipes that get altered and added to.

Today, we'll be making Beorn's Honey Cakes! A dish from one of my partners favorite characters- a delectable little treat befitting the… warm personality of the character.

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to Beorn's Honey Cakes?” YOU MIGHT ASKSimple stuff! Simple sweet stuff!

All-purpose flour

Baking powder

Salt

Ground nutmeg

Unsalted butter

Whole milk

2 eggs

Honey

Vanilla extract

The veins of honey cakes ancestry can be traced back to any moment where people began baking bread. Honey is a natural preservative, and sweeter still on its lonesome.

AND, “what does Beorn's Honey Cakes taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKLike your aching muscles repairing themselves

Tastes like a honey graham cracker

But the texture is softer, wetter- somewhat like banana bread

Oh, and this will make your house smell So So Good

If you can resist the temptation of eating them immediately, they taste even richer the day after baking

Would pair well with milk green tea

Would also pair well with fresh orange slices (or those chocolate 'orange slices' candy)

Genuinely don't forget to flip them upside down when they go to bake the second time, not sure what it is but i was curious and did a test where i flipped half of the batch upside down and kept the other half of the batch right-side up like they cooked in the muffin tin. The ones i flipped upside down universally had a more consistent texture and the honey was able to permeate further.

.where honey called for, used clover honey

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

From start to finish this recipe takes about an hour of work, give or take some negligible time for prep.

The batter is perhaps the babybird of all cake batters. The gloopy, protruding crumbs of butter, not unlike a squabs beady pupils visibly dark under its skin, break up the mass of sickly smooth and reassuringly sweet-smelling oak-colored liquid. You can feel the confusion of bees outside your home, wondering if this your attempt at making royal jelly.

Just like a babybird, it becomes more than the sum of its parts. Layer on that honey drizzle, layer it on thick, theres no risk of drowning subtle flavors. Its crisp edges will keep its form, springy and warm, inviting you as if you're not the one who crafted it (food you didn't cook always tastes better). The bees are sooooooooooooooo jealous of your opposable thumbs and muscular strength.

If you dont have eggs you could try substituting with apple mash. I can't vouch for it in this recipe but replacing eggs with mashed up apples for pancakes gives it adds a nice fruity flavor without changing the texture, and in theory should work here as well.

I give this recipe a solid 10/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.)

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

270 grams all-purpose flour

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 tsp freshly ground nutmeg

1 stick unsalted butter

160 grams milk

2 eggs

110 grams your favorite honey

1 tsp vanilla extract

Muffin tray and parchment paper

Method:

Preheat oven to 350f

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt, and nutmeg.

Add the butter and rub it into the flour with your fingers until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs.

In a small bowl beat the eggs until just combined. Pour in milk and then vanilla extract while stirring. Keep stirring vigorously while slowly pouring in honey.

Stir until the mixture is consistent in color.

Pour the liquids over the dry mixture and stir until just combined.

Pour the batter into a greased muffin tray, don't use any muffin paper/lining/cups.

Bake for 16 minutes, or until they reach their full height.

Carefully remove from the muffin pan and place the muffins upside down on a parchment lined tray.

Using a silicone pastry brush, generously cover the tops of the cakes with honey. Allow to sit for about 5 minutes to let the honey soak into the cakes.

Bake for an additional 8-10 minutes, or until the cakes are golden brown.

Remove from the oven and allow to cool.

#cross cooks lotr #tolkein #the hobbit #food recipe

2K notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 days ago

Text

Give Thanks

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, familial judgement/bullying, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your mother invites a lonely coworker to Thanksgiving, a bit too lonely.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: this is the second of my autumn fics as decided by all of you!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

The smell of nutmeg hits you as you enter the house. That and the garble of voices. You take your time as you unlace your boots, keeping your jacket on as the rack is already overflowing with the like. You mentally ready yourself to face your famiiy and their annual judging panel.

You peek into the front room as you keep a firm hold of the boxed pies you grabbed from your favourite bakery in the city. You promised dessert and you brought it. You'll put them down before you wade in the deep end.

You enter the kitchen, rehearsing your greeting for your mother, but you're met with a stranger's back. He stands at the counter, scraping cranberry sauce from a saucepan into a serving dish. His brown hair is combed back neatly, though you can only see the ends from your vantage, and he wears a pressed shirt too white for the task at hand.

You hesitate. Where the heck is your mom? You can't see the man's face but you can tell he's a bit too young for her. Or so you would assume. He could be a cousin's boyfriend and yet he might be a bit above that.

"Um, hi," you say as you approach the end of the island counter, well away from him, "I'm looking for my mom."

"Your mom? Doris?" He wonders.

"Yeah," you answer as you set the pies on the counter. "I know I'm a little late..."

"She just went to grab something from the cellar," he explains. "I'm Andy--"

"There she is," your mom sweeps in with her seasonal gravy dish. "Mm, I knew you'd bring store bought."

"They're from a local bakery."

"You never did like being in the kitchen," she reprimands. "Oh, Andrew, that looks perfect. Not too runny."

You glance at the man. This strange man draws praise from her like honey from a comb, whereas you find the task as easy as squeezing juice from a stone. You let it roll off your back like you have for years.

"I got pumpkin, apple crumble, and some pecan. They usually sell out of that." You say.

"Ooh, pecan," the man, Andy, says.

"Oh, Andrew, my younger daughter," your mother introduces you as an afterthought as she goes to wash the gravy boat, "The typist."

"Typist? Mom, I'm an admin assistant," you counter. "I guess it doesn't matter."

"Just her, I'm afraid," she shuts off the faucet. "And her pies. No grandkids from her yet."

You see that this year is going to be just like the last. You're better off facing the rabble of aunts and uncles waiting for you in the front room. Heck, the kids' table might be the place for you.

"Thirty this year," your mother adds.

You force a tight-lipped smile. When you were a kid, it was your grades or the stubborn bit of hair at the back of your head or that your sister, Tia, did it better. Now you're an adult, it's your lack of ambition or lack of kids. You don't think you lack the former and you don't really want the latter. Life is what it is. You have a job that pays your bills and you don't need to add to your cost of living.

"I work with your mom." He offers. You look at him again.

He’s tall, blue-eyed, distinguished. He’s older but carries it well enough. The thin lines around his eyes only add to his looks, and his thick beard further defines his jaw.

"Oh, the law firm?"

"He's a new partner," your mother preens. "Oh, he gave your brother some good advice too. Hopefully he can move out of that public office soon enough."

Right, Rodney does everything right. He got into law, just like your mother told him too, and he has a pretty house and a pretty wife and three spoiled brats. Tia only has the one and a husband who works out of town every weekend. They're real grown-ups but to you, growing up seems boring.

Your life isn't glamourous. You do diamond art or catch-up on the last issue of your favourite comic when you're not too tired. You get takeout once a week, otherwise you put the ready-made meals in the microwave and eat it in front of the television. It's not special but it's your life.

"Public defenders do a service to the community," Andy says. "I did it for twenty years. It's not bad work. He can move up."

"Mm, and yet you moved to a private firm," your mother challenges him.

"Maybe you should be partner," he chortles at her playfully as he wipes his hands on the tails of the borrowed apron tied around his torso.

"My mom makes really good stuffing," you say, "I'm sure you'll enjoy it, even if you're not home for the holiday." You drag your feet along the tile, "I'm going to say hello to Auntie Toya."

"Good luck. She's in one of her moods," your mother tuts. "Must be menopause."

You leave before she can aim another snipe in your direction. She can't help but let the bullets fly and see where they hit. It might be thanksgiving, but you're struggling to find much to be grateful for.

🍂

"Mandy has a Christmas recital. I'll be sending the invite in the family chat," Tia, your sister, proclaims. "If you can make it, she'd be so happy, huh, sweetie?"

She pets behind her daughter's ear and makes her giggle. Every awes and cooes at the little girl. Just like when your sister was her age, she's the princess of the family.

"I can try to bring the kids," Rodney says. "We're thinking to get Kelly into dance next year. I need to get used to those things."

Everyone laughs. You're not very amused. You're happy the kids have hobbies, that they are doing interesting things, but you just don't care that much. Still, your happy to be able to fade into the background.

"I'm sure your sister can make it," your mother says, bring you back into the universe, "she doesn't have anything else going on."

Your eyes dart back and forth. Your mouth is full of potatoes. You gulp painfully.

"I can set the date aside. I still have some vacation left," you choke out. You can't make up an excuse with a whole audience to call you out.

You sink back into silence as Tia goes on about the show. They're doing The Nutcracker. Oh joy. You were never a fan. Why can't they do something fun, like The Grinch?

"Don't think I'm included in that invite," Andrew says under his breath from your left shoulder. As the two loners at the table, you're put together. "Kinda awkward."

He chuckles, trying to ease the tension. You shift and hide your embarrassment. You forgot there was a complete stranger here to witness your judgement.

"Right, well... I'm sure you have enough going on," you say.

"I'm sure you do too," he pokes at the yams. "Kids keep you busy but life is already hectic."

"Sure," you agree dully. You don't want to be rude. "you have kids?"

"One. A son. Grown. He went to his girlfriend's for the holiday and his mom... is not in town."

"Bad timing," you take another bite of potatoes. Maybe next year you can come down with a timely case of the flu.

"Don't be silly. She doesn't have a boyfriend. We'd all know," your mother trills with laughter. You pop your head up as the hairs on your neck tingle. You know she means you before you even catch her gaze. "It'd be such an achievement, she'd have to shout it from the rooftops."

You lost track of the conversation and you're not sure how you became the butt of the joke, but you're tired. It's supposed to be a day for family but it just feels like you're being cast out of yours. You put your fork down.

"I'm going to clear my plate. Think I had too big a snack on the drive here," you stand, gritting back your irritation. "As usual, stuffing's delicious."

You get up and make your way along the table. The silence is dense. Oh well. If they want to make this painful, you can do the same.

You go to the kitchen and find a container. You scrape your leftovers into it and shake your head. You suppose you are behind. You're thirty years old. Next year you'll be thirty-one and her chiding will be even louder. The ticking of the clock will only ger worse as the years go by.

"You're right, stuffing's good," Andy says.

You wince and glance over your shoulder. "Uh, yeah. Like I said, think my eyes were bigger than my stomach."

He comes up next to you and rinses off his plate, "well, I think my stomach would be turning too after that."

"It's whatever," you shrug.

"Thirty isn't old. You got time," he says.

"Thanks," you reply tersely.

"Not that it's any of my business."

You're silent. It isn't but you're not going to be rude enough to say that out loud. Unlike the rest of your family, you can keep your thoughts to yourself. They might think you're immature because you're not living behind a white picket fence, but at least you don't act like a teenager.

"It's better to take your time. You know, you rush into big decisions and you can't undo them. They don't always turn the way people promise," he says. "You follow that road map, take one wrong turn and you're wife's spending Thanksgiving with her 'work husband' at a hotel." He opens the dishwasher and wedges his plate between the metal, "Work husband, secret boyfriend, you know..."

You're struck by the revelation. You can hear the tension in his voice. The hurt, the anger.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you utter dumbly.

"You're sorry? She isn't," he reaches for your plate and rinses it next. "I'm not telling you because I want you to feel bad for me. I guess I'm trying to commiserate. It could be worse." He adds your plate to the washer, "you're doing nothing wrong. Being alone means you have choices. Being tied to someone... you have obligations."

"Yeah, sounds about right," you say. "Well, thanks. Not to benefit off your pain but yeah." You put the lid on the tupperware and sidle along to put it in the fridge, "I think I'm going to get some fresh air. Getting a bit overcrowded in here."

"A little," he agrees.

You leave and hold your breath until you get to the front door. Who knew the stranger at the table would be the only one to make you feel welcome?

You grab your coat from the guest room and push your feet into your boots at the front door. You go outside into the brisk air. It's actually nice. Refreshing almost.

You sit on the porch bench. In the colder months, it's rarely used. It hasn't snowed yet but the frost glistening on the grass is foreboding.

You tuck your hands into your sleeves and look along the street. The other houses with yellow windows, glowing with the warmth and shadow of happy families. This time of year has only ever been stressful to you. You're never a part of the fun, you're usually the source of it.

The front door opens and you fight to keep your unease under wraps. You don't need your mom lecturing you. Again. Or Tia telling you not to be jealous. Whatever happens is always your fault.

"Whew, it's cold," Andy's voice eases your nerves as it assures you it isn't who you fear.

"Yep, I don't mind. It's the only thin I like about this time of year."

"Really?" He nears and sits on the other end of the bench. "I'm a summer person, I guess. Used to be we'd go to some resort for New Years." He says.

"Sounds nice," you say.

"I know. I'm moaning about a luxury," he scoffs, "trust me, I get it. I got it all, what do I got to whine about?"

"I wouldn't say that. You never know what people have going on."

"Nope," he agrees and rubs his hands together. He's quiet as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his legs. He bends and unbends his fingers as he examines them then sits up again. "Brrr. Only good thing about this weather, snuggle weather."

He laughs. You try to. It's an awkward joke.

"Maybe I should get a cat," he suggests.

"Maybe," you clutch your hands tight. You should go inside. You know he's being nice but he's ruined the moment.

Your teeth chatter as you take a deep breath of the late autumn air. Just a little longer before you go back. You close your eyes.

The bench creaks and you think he's getting up. He must get the hint. Instead, as you open your eyes, you feel a weight across your shoulders. You flinch and peek at him from the corner of your eye.

"You're shivering," he says.

You look at him then back to the road. You should pull away but you can't. It feels mean.

"God, my hands are so cold," he grips your shoulder as he puts his other hand on your thigh.

"Woah," you catch his thick fingers.

"Come on, let's get warmed up," he breaks through your resistance and rubs your leg.

"Alright, I don't know what you think--"

"What's so wrong about it? Like trains passing through the night. My wife's cheating, you're single, we could have some fun," he purrs as he holds you against him.

"Um, no thanks," you grab his fingers again. "I'm flattered but--"

"Shh, shh," he peels his hand away from your leg, once more evading your grasp, and grabs your chin. "Your mom told me all about it. How you can't get a date--"

"That's not--" you latch onto his wrist, "stop, please, Andy."

"Come on," he turns your head and nuzzles your nose with his, "I'm so fucking lonely. My wife hasn't touched me in over a year."

"Your wife-- Andy," you hiss.

"Just kiss me, please? That's all I want. Just a little affection. To feel wanted."

"You're-- stop. Let go of me," you try to dislodge his hold on you. He's too strong.

He tilts his head and presses his lips to yours. You murmur and slep his chest with your other hands. He hooks his arm around you as he angles you toward him. You writhe and bite his lip.

He gasps and pulls back, keeping you locked in his embrace, "listen, sweetheart, you wanna play hard-to-get," he squeezes your jaw until you whimper, "what's mom gonna think when she catches you all over her married coworker?"

"No, that's not--"

"I'm sure she'll believe you," he snarls and slides his hand down to your throat.

"Why..." you croak.

"Baby, please, it's not a bad thing," he moves you with him as he edges off the bench. He turns, one arm still around you, his other hand locked onto your neck. He bends and forces you onto your back as he settles over you. "I'm going to make you feel just as good as you make me feel."

You wriggle and whine. What he says is just as scary as what he hasn't said. He'll make you feel as good as you do him, or as bad.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #one shot #fic #autumn #defending jacob

150 notes · View notes

itsbowietoyou · 1 year ago

Text

The heart of any home

#secondlifeblog #secondlife #second life #homedecor #secondlife home #sl #nutmeg #nutmeg second life

3 notes · View notes

cryptidclaw · 11 months ago

Text

Star Firesight!

Bonus! Healer/Second Firesight:

And Outsider/Apprentice Rusty/Fire:

Design Notes:

I redesigned him again despite saying I would stop doing that... Prev design and old bio here.

He still has a lot of the same features as my previous design, i mostly just changed his pattern and coloring! I wanted him to be a rustier color!

I also changed his cheek fluff to be round, mostly just for an interesting face shape! his cheek fluff hangs a little more flat when he's older just to give him a more matured look (hes been thru some shit, his cheeks hath deflated)

Character Bio:

Star Firesight

(Fireheart/star)

Bisexual & Polyamorous; Trans Tom; he/him

Age as of 1st arc's beginning: 7 moons; 11 Hyrs

Age as of 1st arc's end: 2 cycles, 5 moons; ~26 Hyrs

Title meaning: -sight = this cat can spot things that others cannot; a cat with a close connection to the Stars; this healer receives many signs from the Stars; the healer may also be very good at spotting illnesses or injuries.

Outsider -> Healer -> Second -> Leader of Thunder Order

Mentor: Redtail (died) -> Spottedleaf

Mother: Nutmeg

Father: Jake

Sibling: Sapheart (Princess)

Half Siblings: Socks; Ruby: Tinyclaw

Mates: Sandstorm; Shriketail

Kits: Squirrelflight (sire: Sand); Leafpool (sire: Shrike); Foxleap (sire: Sand); Icecloud (sire: Shrike)

Grandkits: Star Hollyleaf; Falconstrike; Jaywing; Alderheart; Sparkfire

Other notable kin: Cloudtail (nephew); Snowshoe (nephew); Mistletoe (niece); Spiderleg (nephew); Shrew (nephew)

Notes:

Firesight has chronic pain (and mobility issues later in life):

Fire has the Scottish Fold breed's mutation which effects cartilage in the body, this causes his ears to fold, but it also causes chronic joint pain and can progress into swollen and inflexible joints.

For Fire, he is has the heterozygous version of this mutation, which means that his disability progresses more slowly, as a young cat he does experience some joint pain, with some days being worse than others. He is able to medicate with his own chronic pain herbal mix he created as a Healer. However as Fire grows older his joints will worsen, and by the time of his old age he will be unable to jump and some days is unable to walk.

He is able to still use his medication to aid him and is able to lead a happy life, but he is disabled and I didnt want to leave that out of his character! It's important to have disability rep (and spread awareness of the issues with the Scottish Fold breed) and I hope I serve him justice!

Character Summary:

In Progress (to be added later)

...

[Image 1 ID: a digital drawing of Star Firesight, an AU version of Firestar from Warrior Cats. He is standing with his left side showing and has a proud and happy expression with a smile. He is a short, chubby and round shaped rusty orange and red tabby tom with small folded ears and green eyes. his chest, underbelly and paws are all a lighter shade of orange, and he has a red stripe down his back as well as a single red swoop shaped stripe on his side. He has red to orange striping on his face and red freckles on his cheeks. His right ear is brownish-black, he also has a small black spot above his nose and a black stripe on his back. He has a white flame shaped spot on his chest, a white muzzle, white paws and a white tail tip. He wears yellow flowers and green leaves in his pelt and a simple crown rests on his forehead made up of a diamond shaped red stone and a small teardrop shaped white stone below it./End ID]

[Image 2 ID: a digital drawing of Firesight, an AU version of Fireheart from Warrior Cats. this drawing is almost the exact same as the first image, but in this he has no crown./End ID]

[Image 3 ID: a digital drawing of Fire, an AU version of Firepaw from Warrior Cats. this drawing is almost the exact same as the first image, but in this he has no crown, or flowers and leaves adorning his pelt. his face also seems younger and he has a brighter happy expression on his face with his mouth open in a smile like he is talking./End ID]

#millionth redesign lol #cryptidclaw's warriors au #rise of change #firesight #firestar #fireheart #firepaw #firestar design #fireheart design #firepaw design #firestar au #warrior cats au #warrior cats design #warrior cats #warriors

540 notes · View notes

cannellee · 6 months ago

Note

i literally love ur headcanons ❤️ i was just wondering what hcs you have for alpha tokyo rev boys and their scent? like i imagine mikey would probably be really warm and smell like vanilla or sandalwood and baji would probably smell musky, like coffee and leather

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ☆

୨୧ alpha! tokyorev x omega! reader (pairing : mikey, chifuyu, mitsuya, baji, ryusei, kokonoi, inupi, kisaki, izana, rin)

— what do they smell like ?

I'm making my comeback after a huuge while. life has been kinda hectic recently so I took a few weeks off my phone to get everything together + my exams didn't help either- but holidays are around the corner so I have much more time to write now!

PS: I forgot to save this earlier, so I had to re-write it, it's not as good as the first version but I hope you don't mind

MY MASTERLIST: ☆

𐙚. ALPHA! MIKEY

mikey's scent is unmistakable, wrapping itself around you in a comforting embrace. it's a blend of caramel and honey, with a gentle aroma of wood. it's soft and warm, yet, the earthy scent grounds everything, it's protective and strong.

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. ALPHA! CHIFUYU

chifuyu's smell is a refreshing blend of citrus and bergamot, sweet with just a hint of sourness. it instantly lifts your spirits, making you smile right away. his scent fills you with enthusiasm, a nice reminder of his optimistic and supportive nature. it literally wraps around you like a ray of sunshine, leaving you really energetic!

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. ALPHA! MITSUYA

mitsuya's scent is extremely soothing, calming you down in a second. he smells like the ocean and sandalwood that embody his tranquil nature and unwavering reliability. you particularly love the fragrance of rain which is what truly defines mitsuya. his scent reminds you of a soft, gentle drizzle that accompanies a quiet and warm afternoon. it's the smell of clarity, the calm after the storm. his scent gives off a boundless reassurance.

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. ALPHA! BAJI

baji's scent is powerful, a potent mix of burned wood, iron and dark chocolate. it's intense, somehow bittersweet, signaling his raw strength and protective nature, a warning to others. he has a musky aroma to him which adds a primal edge, reinforcing his alpha presence. you can also detect a touch of lavender, it has a calming effect on you. when you breathe in baji's scent, it fills you with a sense of security, wrapping around you like a shield which makes you feel fiercely guarded. you really enjoy this side of his scent, the gentleness baji reserves only for you. it also reminds you that he would go to any lengths to keep you safe.

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. ALPHA! RYUSEI

ryusei's scent is a blend of popcorn and peppermint, a mix that's both sweet and strong. the popcorn feels gentle and comforting, with syrupy undertones that make everything so much more reassuring for his omega. it reminds you of simple moments, it gives you a carefree feeling and makes you smile. the peppermint feels refreshing and gives an invigorating touch, making you feel really good. when you catch a whiff of ryusei's scent, it fills you with enthusiasm and, the musky fragrance chases your fears away.

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. ALPHA! KOKONOI

kokonoi's scent is very sophisticated, it's a mix of whisky and vanilla. the whisky brings a rich and manly aroma, exuding strength and confidence. the vanilla feels warm, like a comforting sweetness, which makes it inviting and approachable. when you breathe in kokonoi's scent, it's like being wrapped in a commanding and comforting hug, making you feel secured and valued.

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. ALPHA! INUPI

inupi's scent is a mix of nutmeg and cold air, with hints of wood aromas that feel both warm and grounding. it's calming and composed, making you feel his presence no matter where you are. his scent carries a kindness and worry for you that's undeniably manly, making you feel weak in a good way, instinctively seeking his protection.

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. ALPHA! KISAKI

kisaki's scent is very intriguing, a nice blend of eucalyptus and brownie, with a touch of mint that adds a fresh, clean feeling. it's soft and almost beta-like, making him seem less imposing than other alphas. however, subtle undertones of leather hint at his second gender, reminding you that kisaki is your protector and can keep you safe. overall, his scent gives you a cozy sense of familiarity, very calming yet surprising somehow.

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. ALPHA! IZANA

izana's scent is a blend of leather too, of patchouli and fire, with faint hint of cotton candy. the leather and patchouli gives off a dominant and earthy aroma, while the fire adds an intense, almost dangerous edge. the subtle sweetness of cotton candy is deceptively charming, which masks his powerful nature and possessiveness. to you, his scent is both intoxicating and intimidating, which leaves you with a strong compulsion to obey. the sweet undertones provides a bit of comfort, but it's clear that his presence is commanding and that's what makes you feel drawn to him.

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. ALPHA! RIN

rin's scent is captivating, a powerful blend of cedarwood, musk and cinnamon. it's a honeyed smell which gives you a sense of belonging, the strong fragrance of wood making you feel a rush of excitement and anticipation. every breath you take is filled with relief and a nice feeling of warmth, feeling like you just woke up from a nap, still feeing muzzy and unbelievably relaxed. his scent is actually very primal and dominant, it makes you crave it so much.

215 notes · View notes

kayshla19 · 6 months ago

Video

Style3637 by Kay ღ Lush ღ Photographer Via Flickr: thisiskayshla.blogspot.com/2024/05/style3637.html

0 notes

cressidagrey · 5 months ago

Text

Welcome to the World - Chapter 2

Summary:

The quickest turnaround time between finding your mate and having a kid anybody in the history of Prythian has ever managed

Warnings:

Rhys bashing, Mention of Domestic Violence, Mention of Miscarriage, Mention of Child Murder, Mention of Adult Murder, Mention of Stabbing, Childbirth, Labour, a disgruntled Donkey named Thistle

(super pretty dividers thanks to @saradika)

He heard the door open and his mother’s voice, in conversation with another woman…and then steps on the staircase and he knew that the midwife had arrived.

Finally. Thankfully.

Somebody that actually knew what they were doing, because Azriel for sure did not know what he was doing.

And still, now there was a very different kind of anxiety running through her, because…because that meant that he would need to go, to leave her alone and to wait until the baby was born…and he knew all that could go wrong during a birth.

Snapshots of Nyx’s birth were seared in his brain, rearing their dark, ugly heads when he only dared to think in that direction.

Everything could go wrong.

He lifted his hand to Ciara’s cheek, feeling the soft, warm skin underneath his gnarly fingertips…everything beautiful in the world was right there in front of him. He didn’t understand why the mother had thought it prudent to give her to him. Didn’t think that he had done anything in his fucking life to deserve her.

He had bathed in the blood of the enemies, and Ciara had burst into tears at only the mention of killing, her whole body shaking.

But he knew one thing. He knew that he was going to fucking slaughter anybody that would ever put a hand on her or her child.

He leaned forward to press one single kiss against her forehead, feeling her soft hair…breathing in nutmeg and clementines.

Even now, with the notes of pain and anxiety running through her scent, it was the best thing he had ever smelled.

It was so…perfect. So utterly warm and comforting and perfect.

“It will be fine,” he promised her, forcing down the anxiety he was feeling. He wasn’t quite sure who he wanted to assure, him or her…he said it nonetheless.

She really had enough of her own to worry about. She didn’t need Azriel‘s fear to bleed all over their bond. So he needed to get a fucking grip on himself so it didn’t get any worse.

Ciara nodded, holding his hand tighter, small nimble fingers interlaced with his own. He was surprised to find callouses on hers as well, though they were concentrated on the top of her fingers, the sides…he had seen them on his mother's hands, on Rhys’ mother's hands his whole life.

Needles pushed through fabric, again and again…one glance at the blanket lying carefully folded in that little wooden cradle made him wonder if she had made that.

And then there was a knock at the door. It opened…Nora, the midwife, was a female his mother’s age, greying hair shorn short, carrying along with her a massive bag, and bundles of linens.

“So it seems like we’ll have a baby tonight,” she said brightly and Ciara sighed as he stood and Nora entered the room, putting her bag on Ciara’s desk.

“How are you feeling, Ciara? You can wait outside,” she dismissed him without a second glance and he let go of Ciara‘s hand to leave the room…to force himself to walk downstairs, even when he wanted nothing more than to stay.

He wanted to stay, but she hadn’t asked that of him and he was not going to put her in a situation where she thought that she needed to agree.

So he walked downstairs. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked his mother who was bustling around the kitchen, needing something to keep busy or the nervous energy under his skin would drive him insane.

“No, not really. Towels are in the armoire…I’ll put water on near the fireplace in her room…If you could take care of the animals…” she trailed off. He inclined his head. “Don’t let Thistle bite you,” she warned him with a grin, though it didn’t make him laugh.

“You are jittery,” his mother said quietly, reaching out to put a hand on his arms and he turned his hand so that he could hold hers. As always, she swallowed whenever she felt the scarred texture of his hands, even centuries later still giving herself the fault for what had happened to him.

He had never given her the fault. Not for one second. They had both been stuck in a horrible situation.

And what his half-brothers had done to him, was not his mother's fault. He had told her that…multiple times. And still, still she thought differently.

Thought that because she was his mother she needed to protect him against everything and anything.

And it didn’t matter what he did, he couldn’t change her opinion…she still gave herself the fault.

“The one and only birth I saw didn’t end particularly well,” he answered honestly.

Nyx’s birth was seared into his brain. He just prayed fervently that Ciara would have an easier time than Feyre had.

Granted, she was a full-blooded Illyrian, but she was built slight but tall…what if the baby became stuck while passing through her pelvis and…

There was no Nesta here that could give up half her powers in exchange for Ciara’s life and the life of her daughter.

“She’ll be fine,” his mother promised him. He gave her a doubtful look.

She couldn’t promise him that. Something could always go wrong…and he couldn’t lose her. Not when he just got her.

He had waited 5 centuries for Ciara.

“Females give birth to babies all the time, Azriel,” his mother pointed out drily.

He knew that. Of course, he knew that. But still.

“Granted it’s her… first,” his mother’s voice shook and not the first time he wondered if he had been…if he had been his mother's only pregnancy. Or had there been more…maybe girls that hadn’t even been allowed to take their first breath before his father had…he shoved these thoughts away because they would do nothing but make him furious.

“At least the first full-term one…that often is the most difficult, but Nora has delivered hundreds of babies,” she assured him quietly.

“What do you mean?” he asked immediately. Why was it the most difficult one?

Was it riskier? Why?

“Her body doesn’t know what to do yet,” his mother said calmly, her hand tightening around his. “Ciara’s anxiety has been for weeks, which doesn’t help…Scared of the unknown. She’ll be fine , Azriel,” she assured him again.

“But…” the protest was on his tongue before he could even think about it properly.

“But nothing,“ his mother said drily. “She will be fine.” She looked out of the window and he saw the snowflakes slowly drifting to the ground outside.

Afternoon had come and evening would be there in less than a few hours, the sky already darkening. “It’s a good night to be born.”

It was. Icy but peaceful.

His mother went upstairs and Azriel forced himself to go out to the barn in the back garden…

With no small amount of apprehension for his first meeting with Thistle the donkey.

It was better that he got out of the house, before…Before the labour started in the earnest.

He blinked twice as he saw the barn, which looked much better than it had the last time he had visited.

Thistle the donkey wasn’t the only animal his mother had acquired. Though it was definitely the one in the worst mood.

If he had ever met an animal that seemed to match Amren in both size and general behaviour…Thistle it was.

Thistle had no hesitant to kick or bite and even tried to go for his wings when he wasn’t quick enough to pour grain in her trough for her liking

The wings were definitely beneath the fucking line of dignity!

He glared at Thistle when she finally stuck her head in her trough and munched her way through her dinner.

Which left him with the rest of the animals to take care of.

Two more Goats were also waiting for their dinner and apparently to be milked…he couldn’t say that he had much experience with that, though there was a horrible diagram drawn on the chalkboard hanging on the wall…together with written instructions on what to feed which animal, and clearly whoever had last milked the long-suffering goats it had put everything back into place.

He wondered if it had been Ciara or his mother…if it had been Ciara who was clearly willing to pull her weight and to work hard, even as pregnant as she was.

Still, when he finally had a bottle filled with goat milk and the poor goat ran away, probably happy to not have him pull at her udder anymore…he had a newfound respect for farm work because Azriel clearly wasn’t talented at it…give him some rabbits to hunt any day.

He moved on to the chickens, who were clearly not amused by the fact that there was somebody with bigger wings than them. They blustered while screaming at him because he wanted to steal their eggs. While being pecked to hell and back, he still reached out for the mental tether he had to Rhys, shoving any thought of Ciara and the baby far, far away from himself.

* Rhys ?*

* Is everything alright? * his brother’s mental touch appeared nearly immediately . * Cassian said you are in Rosehall ?*

*Can I have the rest of the week off?* Azriel asked, keeping his voice even.

* Is everything alright ?* Rhys repeated .

*I need to take care of my mother’s donkey. * It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t the complete truth but he wasn’t ready…wasn’t ready to have this conversation yet.

And especially not right now, when it felt like he was hanging on by a thread.

*Her donkey.* Rhys repeated unbelieving and Azriel pushed a memory of Thistle biting at his wing at him.

The laughter was immediate.

*Yes. And her chickens and her goats and whatever other poor creature she has apparently now saved,“ he said drily. He wondered if his mother still had a cat. She used to always have one, but he hadn’t yet come across a mouser.

*Is Esmeray alright?* Rhys asked him, worry edging his voice.

*Just busy. You know how she gets ,* he deflected.

Also not a lie. Just not the whole truth.

* Take a few days, Az.* Rhys agreed.

At least Rhys‘ bad conscience was good for some things .

***

“You’re in labour, child.” And with that, Nora took away any hope she had of a stay of execution.

Labour. Her daughter would be born soon, regardless of what Ciara wished.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hold her baby or that she wasn’t looking forward to meeting her, to see her growing up…

It wasn’t that she didn’t want love on her, didn’t want to press kisses to her little head and see if she looked like Ciara…see if her hair curled or her nose scrunched and…

But once she was born…Ciara couldn’t protect her anymore. As long as she was safely in Ciara’s womb, Ciara could pretend she could protect her.

But…

“Up you go,” Nora said easily, helping her sit up on the bed and then stand, Ciara grimacing in pain at the change of position.

“Good. Walking will make the pain the most effective,” Nora told her calmly.

Right. She had told her that before.

Something to do with the pull to the earth, making it easier for the baby to drop into position…

Ciara’s hand wrapped around the wrought metal of the footboard of the bed, hissing in pain. Another one of those pains, coming like waves of the ocean to crash into the shore… or crashing into her.

“How do females do this multiple times?” She asked weakly, as another one of these waves of pain crashed through her and then receded, giving her a moment to catch her breath.

“You’ll forget it once you hold your baby,” Esmeray said gently. “Move your wings to the side, sweetheart, I’ll rub your back.”

She did, weakly twitching them to the side…hers weren’t clipped, but she was quite sure that she did not have enough strength in them to fly. She couldn’t remember ever having done it anyway…and she hadn’t been willing to try while pregnant. Too worried to crash to the ground and hurt her baby.

Esmeray’s hands pressed over the base of her spine as the next contraction built and she moaned softly in relief. Better. Still painful but better.

And so it began.

She walked her circles in her room, returning to lean against the footboard or against the walls when another wave hit her, letting Esmeray and Nora gently ply her with water to drink and then whatever weird tea it was, sweetened with honey and herbs.

“You’re doing well,” Nora promised her, even when it was felt like she was making no progress at all, as the sun sank behind the horizon and night reigned.

It was maddening .

She felt herself grow seemingly insane with every new wave of pressure that seemed to grow and grow and grow with nowhere to go…her legs growing weaker until finally, another wave of pain forced her to her knees in front of her bed, panting with breath, her mouth opening into a silent scream…her hands fisting into the quilt she had made out of fabric scraps at the shop…

The pain peaked and she groaned as a rush of warmth ran down her thighs, soaking the clean blanket beneath her with clear fluid.

What…she didn’t even have time to think about it before another wave of pain crashed over her, leaving her gasping for air.

“Your water broke,” Esmeray said, sounding delighted, still rubbing her back. "She will be here soon, sweetheart."

No. No, she wasn’t ready. She couldn’t do this. Ciara just wanted…

But she couldn’t even finish that thought, because there was more pain.

“Could you fill the bathtub, Esmeray?” Nora asked quietly.

What? No, she…

“What’s wrong?” She gasped out between more rolling waves of pain.

“Nothing is wrong, Ciara,” Nora soothed her. Something was wrong. Something…

“You didn’t think I would need the water because the baby isn’t that big,” Ciara whimpered. What had changed? Why did she…

“She’s not. It will help you,” Nora assured her. “You’ll have less pain and could heal quicker.”

She should be able to stand it. She should be able to…

She went back to rocking, breath coming hard gasps, trying to find something to hang onto…

“In the tub with you," Nora said calmly, helping her stand, her legs shaking. Esmeray came to her other side and somehow between the two of them, she made it to the bathing chamber, every step agony.

She leaned on the side of the tub, “I can’t get in there,” she whispered weakly.

“You can and you will,” Nora told her, accepting no argument.

Ciara didn’t know how she managed it, just knew that somehow she slid into the warm water and for a moment it was pure relief. She could still feel every contraction, but with the water helping her be buoyant, they didn't seem to hurt her nearly as much. They weren’t quite so maddening.

Still, exhaustion took over as her head lolled against the warm porcelain of the tub. Something inside her belly twisted and the sudden feeling of nausea made her start to move her hands over her mouth.

Nora immediately placed an empty bowl under her chin as she vomited. “That’s alright, Ciara,” she said soothingly, Esmeray gently running her hand through her hair, holding out of her face as she reached again. "Your body knows what to do. It's getting rid of the food so it can work harder.”

Harder? Everything seemed to be tipped in black, her eyes closed…the pressure mounted.

She couldn’t do this.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” it left her mouth in a weak chant. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t do this.

“Yes, you can,” Nora disagreed. “You’re doing so well.”

No, she wasn’t. She wasn’t. It didn’t feel…

She couldn’t do this. She was too exhausted and nothing made sense, and she wasn’t strong enough. Not strong enough to do this and…“If I die, can you get her out?” She whimpered.

Just her. As long as her daughter could live, she would die. That would be fine. It would be fine.

She would die if it meant her daughter would live.

The smell of cedar was suddenly there, a broad hand gently, touching her face, cupping her cheek.

“You are not going to die.”

#a pocketful of stars #welcome to the world #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic

124 notes · View notes