#French bread jacket

[typeandcompany]

Vision board for baguette delivery business. Oui.

Jacket via eBay Jackets & Hats

#baguettes #bread truck #design #French bread jacket #branding

[mysticmunson]

date night: alpha!steve harrington x omega!reader

summary: finally scoring a date, things go smoothly until you present, and only one alpha knows.

word count: 2.8k

authors note: hii so i wrote this like two months ago and tried wrapping it up to have it posted, but i enjoy this au so please request some expansion requests :)

warnings: a/b/o dynamics, smut 18+

The pungent smell of fryer grease sifted through the air of Benny’s, a mountain of food divided into a few plates as you sat with Robin, who was in the midst of discussing her most recent ‘study date’ with Vickie.

“Get this! We’re sitting there, talking about chemistry, and bam!” Robin exaggerates, voice lowering in fear of someone overhearing, “She looked at me and kissed me!”

You gasp, smacking her shoulder with the back of your hand, a french fry between your thumb and index finger. 

The couple had kissed a few times now, but the excitement remained as you knew how badly your friend pined over the redhead. 

“We just need to find you someone now.” She teased, taking a bite of her grilled cheese as a string of orange came from between the bread.

“I’m determined to get laid by the end of this month,” You proclaimed, giving yourself around 30 days, “I want to experience it because when or if I present, I want to be somewhat prepared.”

Presenting was a concern for your age group, freshly out of high school, as everyone awaited to discover if they would become an alpha or omega. There had been a few start to show, including your best friend, Steve. 

His presentation was expected, his father a well-known alpha in town, and the traits of one showed early. He was fiercely protective of those he cared about, known to be more than good in the sheets, and strong. Having grown up with him, you saw it happen in real time, making it even stranger when you realized how attractive he became.

Still, Robin supported you on your journey, but worried for your safety. Over analyzing any recollection you shared of a man flirting with you, deciding he was a murderer or ugly, or both. 

In her bedroom, you stood in a loose blouse, tucked into a jean skirt and a matching jacket. Applying another layer of lipstick, you fretted over your appearance as you waited for the clock to strike 6:30, and for your date to pick you up here. 

“Steve is coming over.” Robin mentioned, sipping on her water bottle, sitting cross-legged on her bed.

“Okay,”  You reply, “We just need him gone by the time Devin comes.”

Steve was a great best friend, but he could be a real pain in the ass. He had been scaring any potential boyfriend away since middle school, deeming them not good enough or them being too intimidated by him as he faked a macho persona.

For the plan to work, he couldn’t know. He would go on a tangent about how you didn’t have to have sex just to do it. That was true, but it was hard to listen to a guy who had numerous sexual partners preach it.

The front door swung open as if on cue as you and Robin went to the living room, Steve kicking off his shoes. He began his rant about work, Family Video making him lose hair from stress and children yanking on his hair.

You paid attention, but kept an extra eye on the clock, noticing the hands nearing 6:30. Cursing Steve’s tangent for not letting him leave sooner, you swallowed your anxieties, peaking to make sure a car wasn’t outside. As inconspicuously as possible, you stood and went to grab your heels from Robin’s room. 

Toeing quietly, you were hoping to go unnoticed, but Steve decided to be aware for one of the first times tonight. “Where are you going? You’re dressed up.”

Shrugging, you leaned against the wooden door, “Just out for the night, a friend is picking me up.”

A terrible liar, you thought of something that wasn’t completely fictional, however, they both could tell. The sight of headlights caught your attention, standing straighter, “Okay, bye!”

Robin rushed to the front door to stick her head out as you walked away, “Wrap it before you tap it!”

Embarrassment crawling up your neck, you flicked her off behind your back, opened the car door, and stepped in.

“What!” Steve gasped, startling Robin as she shut the door and who hadn’t expected him to follow her or hear him. Thankfully, the car had pulled away, leaving a confused man with a bit too much heat in his cheeks at his best friend to get some.

“I’m just kidding, Harrington. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Robin snarled, shoulder-bumping him as she went back to her couch. 

The date was fine, Devin was a kid you’d gone to school with since diapers. He had boyish features, cheeks a bit chubby with dimples, and was always polite. He had asked you to hang out a few days prior, agreeing on tonight.

Curls in your stomach that you attributed to nerves hadn’t vanished, even as you both mutually realized midway through your walk in the park that things were platonic. 

Heat simmered within you, discarding your jacket and feeling beads of sweat trickle down the back of your neck. It wasn’t hot outside, even as you walked around and chatted. 

“Are you okay? I don’t mean to sound rude, you don’t look well.” Devin questioned, a hand on your shoulder as your legs began to wobble. 

Nausea flooded you before dissipating, wavering emotions as you tried to make sense of what was wrong. 

Through the nerves, you kept thinking of Steve. How he would let his fingers trail against your lower back in hugs, kiss your head when leaving, and put his hand in front of your body when he hit the brakes too hard while driving.

“I don’t know.” You mumbled, feeling tears threaten through. As you made that statement, you felt the surge between your legs, knowing you had presented. 

It couldn’t be happening now. Not with someone you didn’t know well. Not when you hadn’t been able to score a boyfriend first. Not now. 

“I think I need to go home, I’m so sorry-” You began, huffing as streaks of mascara fell down your warm cheeks. 

Assuring you it was okay, Devin drove you home, even stopping to get you a snack to make your stomach feel at ease. While it didn’t help, you appreciated the thoughtful gesture and thanked him as he waited for you to get securely in your apartment.

The space went from chilly to scorching, removing any amount of clothes you could besides a pair of boyshorts. Your mind raced with confusion as your nipples became hard, feeling a chill, but like a fire on ice. 

Anxieties without category hit you, curling in a ball as you cried, sitting on your floor. It felt pathetic, but no stream of thought was strong enough to withstand the hormones.

Time slipped by as you tried regulating your breathing, applying slight pressure on your clothed core. A shrill ring came from your black phone, lifting the handle and pressing it to your ear.

“You were not supposed to answer!” Robin grumbled, already giving the heads up that she’d call to see if you were getting some, that no answer would be her answer. You had forgotten this rule, her tone making you bring in a fresh set of tears.

On the other end, Robin sat in her room with Steve walking in, not staying in the living room as she had asked. Her priorities were averted to the cry on the other side of the phone.

“Wait, what happened? Why are you crying? What happened with Devin?” Robin frantically questioned, Steve glancing over with furrowed brows as Robin had never stated who she was speaking with. 

“Devin? From junior year math class? That was the friend?” Steve grimaced, toying with nicknacks in his friend’s bedroom, earning a finger on the lips to quiet him down.

“I presented,” You whispered, “I’m so scared and uncomfortable and overwhelmed! What alpha do you know, I don’t care who it is anymore.” 

Though you would probably care later, the clouded judgment had you aching for any form of reprieve from the pain. 

“Fuck, I don’t know!” Robin squeaked, not wanting to reveal your status to Steve for fear of your embarrassment, but she contemplated. The gears of her brain turned as she questioned his overprotectiveness, the way he was quick to frustration when discovering you were on a date.

“Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out, Y/N. I promise.” She concluded, hanging up and grabbing her yearbook.

The faces of former students made her ill, but word got around about presentations, and she hoped that seeing their faces would make her recollect.

“What the hell’s going on? Do I need to go fight Devin?” Steve eyed his friend, an unnerving worry in his stomach. 

Biting her lip, she debated internally, “She needs help.”

“What is looking at that going to do?” Steve gawked, used to his friend’s antics, but still astounded when they acted erratically.

“I’m trying to remember who’s an alpha.”

“Why would you need to know who became an alpha-”

As the words left, his mouth ran dry, and he gulped while looking at Robin. She slowly looked up, watching the dark iris’ before her enlargen.

“Steve-” Robin began, the corner of a page between her two fingers.

The stern look on his face was withholding a multitude of emotions, ones she couldn’t quite make out. She made the judgment call that maybe Steve was your best bet.

“She’s at her place.” 

That was all that needed to be said before Steve ran out her front door and into his car. He had driven your route a million times, but never this fast. 

His blood pumped with nerves and excitement. He had spent his ruts alone, a fist full of himself with the occasional tears of frustration as he tried to alleviate his knot. But now you had presented as an omega.

Refraining from palming his crotch, he watched your streetlights come into view, throwing his car into park. The dark hallways were typically concerning, but your door was practically glowing within his mind.

He growled at the smell in the air, catching his attention more the closer he got. Gripping the door handle, it was unlocked, thankful no one else had noticed the compromising position. 

Choking on his own breath, he fumbled with the lock behind him and trekked down the dim hallway. The protectiveness he already felt was consuming, his palms sweating as he made his way closer. 

The door swung open too quickly as the handle slipped from his grasp, seeing you flinch from your curled position on the floor. 

As if you were nothing, he lifted you from your armpits, making you stand in front of him. Eyes blazing, he looked pointedly as he undid his belt.

“Your door.” He stated, voice wavering with stability.

Furrowing your brows, you looked up at him, “What?”

His shirt was shrugged off, tossing it to the ground as your eyes drifted to his broad chest, whimpering at the sight to his delight.

“It was unlocked, don’t you ever fucking do that again.” He gritted pushing his jeans off, cupping your cheek with one hand and leaning forward so the back of your knees touched your bed. 

His nose had skimmed against yours, breath fanning against your cheeks as you drank in every pheromone he perpetrated. Breath quickening, every thought coming to your head was vulgar, eyes softening in need.

“I won’t.” You whimpered, yelping as your back hit the wrinkled sheets, and his chest soon pressed against your bare one. 

“I mean it, don’t ever do that again, you could’ve gotten hurt.” He gripped your chin in his grasp, looking down at you as your clothed centers touched.

The brief touch made you wail, your body suddenly aware of what was to come. Equally as impatient, he grabbed one side of your underwear and ripped it. Repeating the act on the opposing side, the shreds of fabric were now a relic of the you before this moment.

Palming himself, looking down at your frame as a predator and prey, he growled. 

“How bad do you want it?” He egged on, ripping his own boxers off and onto the floor. 

“Please, Steve, please.” You whined, watching as his cock bobbed. Blushing profusely pink, your mouth watered at it and your chest began to burn with greed.

He seemed far too composed, the performance of himself he was forced to obtain through most of his teen years floating to the top. However, his soft spot was you. It always had been and both of your fresh senses were sensing the discomfort in both of you. 

“Alpha, please.”

That was all it took for his body to be pressed to yours and his lips to meet yours for the first time. 

Grunts and gasps came from you both as the underside of his cock rubbed against your folds, too consumed with how he tasted and how you smelled. 

“Keep that door locked, do you understand?” He gritted, fisting himself in his own grasp, his first thrust in synchronizing with your nod.

A pained cry rose from your lungs, tears already streaming down your cheeks, his lips kissing where the beads were.

Desperation reeked from you both as you grabbed at one another, needing any form of solidification that the other was there. 

Steve found comfort in your warmth, trying his best to soothe your discomfort with affection. Kissing on your neck or rubbing your clit, the latter making you shriek from sensitivity. 

“My omega now,” He sighed, balls reaching the curve of your ass as he settled against you, “my girl. Always have been.” 

“Always yours, alpha, always Steve.” You trembled, the veins of his length stimulating every ridge within yourself. His brown hair crowned around his face, only able to see him in your state of need. 

Though you were the one presenting, Steve felt the same wave of emotions he felt during his first rut, but now even more with another person. His person. The one who knew him since he had gaps in his front teeth, since he had graduated, and every minute moment before and after.

“Fuck, I love you.” He blurted out, feeling his own bashfulness creep up his neck. 

To his relief, you began to be more overcome with emotion, agreeing. Each thrust hit your spongy spot inside you, convincing you more and more he was the only one who could make you feel this way.

“I love you too,” You revealed, locking his lips between yours briefly, “M’sorry I didn’t ask for you first, I was nervous.”

Your words were sweeter than honey, but the implication that someone else almost came to your aid burned him deeply. His hands pushed up your thighs, your knees coming up as he fucked you deeper than you could comprehend. 

“Devin asked me out and I just wanted a boyfriend, but I didn’t want him, I swear-” You cried, unknowingly provoking more possessiveness. 

“Honey, please, it’s okay.” He gritted, clenching sheets in his shaking hands, suppressing the urge to flick his hips quicker.

“I wanted you, alpha, please.” You sighed, stroking his cheek and hair, anywhere you could touch, “I’m so happy, I’m sorry, thank you-”

“Don’t worry, I would’ve found you anyway. You’re my girl, my omega.” He assured, gulping down the emotions he felt when you looked into his eyes.

His words appeared to have a larger effect than any physical reimbursement could do for you as your fingers clenched within his hair. 

Your cry as you came made his hormones go into a flurry. He could feel your uneasiness being thrown into release. It was as if your chests opened in tandem, reaching out and moving in sync as he finished inside you.

White noise filled both of your ears as Steve’s body hovered over yours with much of his weight on top of you. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his chest, shoving your face against the crook of his neck. 

Pumping himself within you until sensitivity took over, he gasped at how you clenched around him. His stature shook as he knotted, a hand going to your hip to keep in place, chest heaving to regain a steady tempo.

“Thank you.” You whimpered, hugging his chest closer to your front, an embrace he matched. Pressing a kiss on the side of your forehead, he trailed down to your ear with pecks and bites.

Rolling to his back, he pulled you to his chest, rubbing your back after you tried sitting up.

“Just relax, honey.” He cooed, the exhaustion already hitting you both, stilling your hips from causing you both more frustration in the compromising position. 

“I want to make you knot again.” You whine beneath your breath, trying to sit up again, ignoring the pain shooting through your body at his swelling. 

“Easy tiger,” He chuckles, biting his lip to stop his own need, “we’ve got time.”

tagging mutuals :)

@andvys @lilacletter @corrodedcorpses @munsonsreputation @berryfairy444 @poppy-metal @lesservillain @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint

#elora writes #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington x you #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington moodboard #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #steve stranger things #alpha!steve harrington #a/o/b #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o au #a/b/o verse #a/b/o #a/b/o fic

[euphoricfilter]

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐𝟐

still mad

tags/ warnings: games designer! jungkook, non-idol au, established relationship, fluff fluff fluff, and a jungkook who’s feeling sorry for himself

word count: 1.3k

notes: you can’t be mad at him anymore pls

☆ epic crazy callob with @bonny-kookoo 💝 ☆

☆ series masterlist

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

The both of you stare up at the ceiling, long silence stretching out between the both of you.

The only tell-tale sign Jungkook was awake is him laying on his back without snoring.

Warm sunlight pools into the room where he’d forgotten to close the curtains last night in his evident rage. Neither of you make a move to close them, too wake to care about going back to sleep now, yet neither of you ready to get up yet.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you” you break the silence, swallowing to wet your throat. “I guess I didn’t think about how you would feel if I kept it from you”

You tilt your head to look at him, pillow cold against your cheek. Your eyes flicker across the side of his face, waiting to see if he would say anything.

“I never want to hurt you” you pull the blanket up a little higher over your chest, “I just assumed it meant a lot and I didn’t want to ruin that for you…”

Jungkook lets out a long drawn sigh, “I know… I’m still mad though”

A smile quirks onto your lips, “Okay” you hum, “I’m thinking of making breakfast… if you want some?”

Jungkook’s head snaps towards you, eyes narrowing “I’m not hungry”

“Okay” you chirp, “Love you”

You push the duvet off you, toes curling against the carpet as the chill of the room creeps up your body, one of Jungkook’s forgotten hoodies picked up from the floor and slipped over your head.

You only make it to the living room before you hear heavy footsteps thud behind you, Jungkook’s foot probably catching on the blanket as he stumbles out of the bedroom, straight past you into the kitchen.

“I’m still mad” he doesn’t even look at you as he says it, pulling one of the cupboards open. He then turns to look at you, silent question vibrating between the both of you.

“French toast” you say, pulling one of the chairs out to watch him.

An easy routine as he pulls open the fridge and cupboard doors, quick to whisk the eggs and have the bread in the pan. A breakfast he’d perfected after you’d asked for it time and time again, determined to make sure whatever he fed you was the best of his ability because you deserved no less in his eyes.

“Thanks” you murmur, eyes glancing over at his plate when he slides it onto the table.

You look down at your plate, “You only having one piece of toast?”

He swallows, clearly debating whether to open his mouth or not.

“Only 3 pieces of bread left” he mumbles, hunched over the table.

You pause, fingers curling around your knife and fork as you cut a slice of your toast in half, cringing when it flops onto his plate, syrup spilling onto the table.

You lean back in your chair, corners of your lips curling into a smile when you catch sight of Jungkook’s own poorly hidden joy.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

“Jungkook!” you call out to him from the living room, ears straining as you hear the clacking of his keyboard stop for a moment, “I’m gonna go shopping, okay?”

You don’t expect a reply, crouching down to tie your shoes. Only to be startled by your boyfriend stood beside you moments later, socked feet almost silent against the floor.

“You can message me if you want anything…?” you glance up at him, heart hammering against your chest at the scare he’d given you.

“I’ll drive you” he pulls the car keys from the pocket of his jacket, “I’m still mad though”

You nod, “You sure? You seemed pretty busy in there” your eyes cast over towards the door of his office.

He simply shakes his head, slipping his own shoes on before he’s grabbing your jacket for you, helping you put it on before he’s slinking out the door to call the elevator up to your floor.

It’s quiet in the car, though not uncomfortable. Because as much as he told you he was still mad, you’d known Jungkook long enough to know he held no resentment towards you. His own fickle, silly little way of moping in his own self pity barely a bother anymore.

Because even when mad, both at himself, and at you, there has never been a day he wouldn’t go to the ends of earth if you asked. Never not there to help you when you needed it.

No amount of burning awful anger ever enough for him to take your existence for granted.

He reminds you of his pity filled rage as he pulls out a shopping cart for the both of you, stretching out his hand to hold yours like he always does when the both of you get groceries. He remembers to tug you down the snack isle, always picking out your favorites before he even thinks to grab his own. Leaning over your shoulder to get a glimpse of the list on your phone, always grabbing things from the higher shelves.

He reminds you he’s still mad when you get home, though still helps you put all the shopping away, tugging you to sit on the couch as he puts both your shoes away, quick to cut up some apples for the both of you to snack on after a successful shopping trip.

You leave him to do some work in the afternoon, hoping the space helps mellow out the internal anguish he was feeling. Because you knew he was equally worried about how disappointed you must have been, and the weird awkward sort of embarrassment of failing what should have been something so easy, embarrassment that he’s never felt with you before.

He lingers in the doorway that evening, your attention stripped away from the film on the tv as you glance over at him, head tilting a little.

He nods towards the bedroom, ends of his hair still damp from the shower he’d just taken.

“Wanna go to bed?” he murmurs.

You breathe out a long sigh, switching the tv off before your slipping into the bedroom behind him. He tugs you onto the mattress, pulling you how he wanted you until his face is pressed into your neck.

“Are you still mad?” you dare ask, tone a little teasing. You feel his lips quirk against the warm skin of your neck.

“Yeah… but more at myself than you; I can never really be mad at you” he admits, “I just wanted it to be perfect”

You hum, fingers running through his hair, “I know. And it was perfect, even if it wasn’t how you planned”

He peels his face from your neck, eyebrows furrowed, “I didn’t even ask you the question”

“Ask me now then” you murmur, eyes flickering between his own.

His own eyes widen, “Huh?”

“Ask me now”

He swallows, fingers skimming down your arms, dipping into your warm flesh, “Baby” he presses impossibly closer to you.

You hum, hands falling from his hair to hold his cheeks.

“I don’t even have the ring” he whispers.

Your lips quirk into a gentle smile, “Doesn’t matter, I don’t need a ring to know how much you love me”

“Still…” his hands skim over your hips.

“Jungkook” you laugh, thumb brushing over the gentle skin on his cheeks.

He whines, his hands mirroring yours as he holds your face now too.

“Will you marry me?” he breathes, worried you could hear how hard his heart was hammering against his chest.

Your eyes flicker across his face, “Yes” you nod.

He lets out a long sigh, “I love you so much” his lips skim over yours, “And I think I will forever”

Your press forward, kiss gentle as you melt into him.

“And I love you just as much” you whisper, “this was perfect, thank you”

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #jjk #bts #jungkook #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook fic #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts fic #bts x you #jungkook x you #bts jungkook

[sungbeam]

𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 — teaser!

nonidol!kim younghoon x f!reader

neither you nor younghoon were party people, but you did find love in the convenience store down the block.

▷ genre, teaser warnings. friends 2 lovers, mutual pining, college au, swearing, mentions of chemistry & physics

▷ projected release date. february 16th/17th hopefully!

▷ estimated wc. 24-26k ... maybe

this is the seventh installment of the love in unity series! this can be read as a standalone, but there are multiple references to previous fics & i highly encourage u to read those; all other yns will be referred to as _!yn. (ayc occurs DURING party people)

a/n: surprise 🦅 @justalildumpling approved btw

TEASER BELOW THE CUT (APPROX. 500 WORDS)

Younghoon had never been tardy to your tutoring sessions last year, so you weren't surprised when you saw him seated at your usual table in the corner. He glanced up from his phone as you walked in, waving. There was a blue colored beanie over his head and a brown corduroy jacket draped over his shoulders.

He noted the container in your hands and his eyes widened like saucers. “You did not.”

“I told you I would save you a piece,” you said sheepishly as you set the container down in front of him and took a seat.

“You—” His bottom lip jutted out. “I can't accept this.”

“You have to. It has your name on it,” you insisted, pointing out the little “Younghoon” scrawled on the side in Sharpie with a smiley face. It was customary in your household to write names on containers if they weren't already color coded or marked with a label. Label makers cost more than Sharpies did, and most of the time, your family didn't mind scrubbing the ink off if needed.

Younghoon's smile was sweet like the pastry sitting in the Tupperware. “I literally made French toast as soon as we stopped texting.”

You laughed. “No way.”

“Yes way! I dragged Hyunjae's ass out of bed,” he told you with great energy, eyes alight as he recalled his late morning antics to you. “I really didn't expect that you would bring me a slice, Yn, you sweetheart.”

“We had lots of leftovers and I just knew the most enthusiastic bread fanatic I knew had to try some of my big brother's toast,” you told him, pleased with his reaction.

He seemed at a loss for words; he just kept looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and you wondered how you could replicate this reaction over and over again. “Thank you,” was what he settled on. “I—” He gestured to the container, to you, to the container, “It means a lot.”

“You're welcome,” you said simply.

Younghoon heaved a great sigh and stood up. “Now I have to buy you some snacks—no. Yn, sit your ass down.”

Your eyes widened a comical amount and you plopped yourself back onto the chair.

His lips wiggled as he held back a smile. “Don't move.”

“You don't have to do this, Hoon,” you shook your head as he began making his way over to the aisles.

“What's that rule in chemistry? Energy can neither be created nor destroyed?” He queried from within the drinks aisle.

“The first law of thermodynamics,” you supplied. “It's not just chemistry though. It's prevalent in all the sciences.” You weren't sure where he was going with this.

“Yeah, well—” He paused. You couldn't see him from where you were, but even the rustling noises stopped. “Shit, that's not the right rule.”

You bit back a laugh. Oh, he was too adorable.

“What's the one where equal and opposite and…?”

Your brain tripped. “Uh, the—the 'for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction’ one?”

More crinkling. “Aha! That's the one. Yeah, so for your actions, I must do as the physicists do, and react accordingly.”

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @mars101 @moonyswolf @your-mirae @richasdiary

#deoboyznet #the boyz x reader #tbz x reader #kim younghoon x reader #the boyz fanfic #younghoon x reader #the boyz oneshot #the boyz imagines #the boyz drabbles #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fluff #younghoon imagines #younghoon drabbles #younghoon scenarios #younghoon oneshots #younghoon fluff

[harlowcomehome]

Remember when?

“Be good for grandma” You zipped up Hazel's jacket some more as you and Jack both walked her out to the car making sure to hug her and kiss her goodbye.

Maggie jumped out of the car immediately “It’s freezing out here! I would’ve come in and got her. It’s no big deal.” She picked Hazel up covering her in kisses as she giggled.

“You ready to have a fun evening with grandma?” Maggie asked and Hazel nodded as her grandpa waved from the car.

“Have fun you two!” Maggie chuckled as she got into the car herself.

“Bye! Love you!” You and Jack both waved as she drove away.

“What she really means is make me another grandbaby you two!” Jack mimicked her voice which made you laugh out loud.

“It is freezing!” You shivered as the two of you rushed back inside, he held the door open for you as you ran inside first.

It was Jack's idea to have a date night just the two of you, it had been a while since you got to do that and he knew neither Hazel nor his mom would complain about spending quality time together.

“It’s hot in here though” Jack's eyes widened, and you laughed. He always complained about the heater in the winter.

“I’ll turn it down” you giggled as he took his hoodie off and went to the kitchen to start dinner.

“Chicken Alfredo?” You questioned as you walked back into the kitchen to be near him.

“And garlic bread!” He grinned as he held up a load of French bread.

“Let me do that while you cook the pasta” You reached for the loaf but he held it above your head, chuckling.

“Baby!” You giggled as you jumped only for him to hold it up even higher.

“Kiss me and then I’ll give it to you” he chuckled and you rolled your eyes but motioned for him to bend down to you, kissing him passionately for a moment.

“We can’t do that or we won’t get to cooking” You felt your face warm up as you snatched the loaf from him. He couldn’t help but laugh as he started to boil the noodles.

The two of you were singing along to music as the food cooked, you turned to Jack and admired him for a moment before he realized and you tried to play it off by looking in another direction.

“I saw that” he poked his lips out to make a duck face, trying not to laugh.

“Can’t I just admire you without having to be called out?” You giggled, wrapping your arms around his waist as he stirred the pasta sauce, you ran your nails lightly against his hips making him jump.

“Baby! I’m stirring hot pasta sauce” he made any excuse not to be tickled and you couldn’t blame him but you still thought it was adorable.

The food was done and you had put the garlic bread on the counter to cool, Jack plated both of you some food and you sat on the couch together.

“It’s so quiet without her here” You took a moment to live in the silence before starting to eat your food.

“Can you believe we almost have a four-year-old?” He laughed. “Just a few more months!”

“No, it feels like just yesterday you were fainting in the labor and delivery unit” you teased, your head now leaning against him.

“I’ll never live that down, will I?” He chuckled, his entire face turning red.

“Probably not because once Hazel gets told about it when she’s older she’ll probably bring it up too” you giggled.

“I got my hands full with you two” he smiled, putting his plate down on the coffee table as you continued to eat.

“You still want another one though, so that’s on you” you teased.

“I want what you want. We can have another baby or it can just be us three. I’d never pressure you into it, what’s best for you is best for our family” he hummed.

He knew you had been going back and forth with the idea in your head, you felt guilty having another baby because Hazel had been the only child for so long.

He could immediately see you get in your head, and he knew just how to bring your focus back. You set your plate down and before you could think to say anything he stood up in front of you.

“Dance with me?”

You giggled knowing he wasn’t the best dancer, “right now? Here?”

“One second” he pulled his phone out and started scrolling through his playlists.

You heard the intro to the song, come through the speakers in your living room and immediately wanted to cry.

Jack moved toward you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he wrapped his own around your waist, his hands lingering against your hips, migrating downwards as you slowly danced in your living room.

You laid your head against his chest, sniffling as you swayed back and forth to the song you danced to at your wedding.

“We don’t have forever, baby daylights wasting” he sang, you heard the rasp in his chest as he did.

You looked up at him as he sang “You better kiss me” which was ironically the lyrics and all you wanted to do right now. You stood on your tiptoes as he bent down to kiss you.

Eventually, the two of you were both trying to hold back tears, but neither of you were successful. You two often cried about how much you loved each other, when given the chance. It was never a sad thing, it just felt pure and lucky, unreal.

The two of you shouted “I love you like XO” at each other while you laughed through the tears. Jack holding his phone as a fake microphone and you holding the remote.

You both giggled, it didn’t take you long to jump into his arms, wrapping your legs around him as he stumbled into the bedroom.

“How did I get so lucky?” You mumbled through kisses.

“I’m the lucky one” he replied.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jack and Y/N’s first dance song:

#Spotify #Jack Harlow #Jack Harlow x reader #Jack Harlow fluff #Jack Harlow fan fiction #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow imagines

[adhddarling]

I HAVE AUTISM, PERCEIVE ME /lh

HI i'm gonna talk about communication and my sensory profile and verbal stims because i'm bored and they're things i experience with my autism.

alternative communication

i used to use BSL to communicate when nonspeaking as a kid but now the people i'm around don't understand BSL i tend to use other ways to communication

gesturing and mouthing words instead of saying them aloud work too

i also like speaking in toki pona (if u haven't heard of it, it's a minimalist constructed language made by linguist sonja lang, made to be easy to learn with simple grammar and help you focus on smaller concepts as it has only 130 words! current hyperfix haha) because it helps me a lot - the words feel easier for me to process and use, and the short words (most are 2-4 letters long) are easy to say and spell out.

verbal stims

my verbal stims change frequently! i often use echolalia to stim, so i repeat phrases that i've heard before. tiktok sounds often plague me in this way lmao.

my current most frequent verbal stims are french words! 'bonjour', 'oui' and 'au revoir' are some of my favourites.

i also like making beeping, buzzing and clicking like a dolphin.

my verbal stims can be voluntary or involuntary

sensory profile for me, it depends on what sense, but i'll do a quick run down:

taste - sensory seeking (i like spice/intense flavours)

food texture - DUDE DON'T GIVE ME ANY SOFT TEXTURES PLS. i like crunchy foods. i don't like inconsistently textured foods, so i avoid fruit and vegetables bc the texture is always different! my safe foods are chicken (my favourite are tenders or nuggets) and bread (i like most types of bread, but prefer the ones with a crunchy outside)

temperature - i don't like hot things generally. i don't like hot drinks or really hot foods. i prefer cooler temperatures in my room and prefer being cold - i can't stand the heat, summer is my nemesis /srs

clothing - i like big jumpers a lot, dresses that are spinny and clothes that don't restrict my movement. things like blazers or jackets stress me out cause i can't move freely.

sight - VISUAL STIMS ONLINE ARE DOPE!!! i love kinetic sand too. i have very visceral reactions to online stimboards lmao. i don't like bright lights - the dark is wayyy better.

sound - generally sound avoidant/adverse, i don't like loud noises, and i wear my ear defenders or earphones at all times bc i can't handle noise, especially in public. i like certain sounds like woodpecker drilling but i have to be in the mood for it. music is an exception to my sound avoidance because i love it omg - i memorise song lyrics really easily, usually from one listen.

touch - depends on my mood tbh. don't touch me w/o permission or i will reflex elbow you in the stomach /lh

#adhd #autism #actually autistic #autistic things #autistic adult #neurodivergent #neurodiversity #actually neurodiverse #neurodiversesquad #neurodivergencies #stim #sensory #sensory profile #sensory processing #verbal stims #stimming #aac #alternative communication

[amtrak-official]

@renegade4-13 Here is the current draft for the story under the read more, not all characters have been introduced yet, but this is what I have written so far

Today is the 3rd Sunday of the Month, this means that the city of Saltpeter’s oddities, mistakes, and rarities have come together for Brunch, the national pastime of this peculiar crowd, among them are 2 librarians, a museum curator, a traveling beekeeper, a pen crafter, and about 20 other peculiar fellows. Take great note on the pair of drab brown haired people sitting at the very back of the train station restaurant. These boring sorts go by the names of Danny Jones and Danielle Jones and hold absolutely no relation to each other.

The thing about Danny Jones and Danielle Jones that is so interesting is not the fact that they share a birthday or last names despite being unrelated in any way other than a lesbian aunt 7 generations back, is the fact that these are the 2 most dull and boring individuals you will ever meet. Both have the personality of sliced bread and they aren’t much better in fashion either. There is nothing special about either Jones, they both live completely ordinary lives as shopkeepers on opposite ends of town. The most eventful thing either will do in a month is a Sunday Brunch. And yet both have managed to obtain a loving relationship with incredibly interesting people. And more interesting still is the fact that both are going to wind up dead at the end of the month.

Now to understand why this will happen, you must understand Saltpeter, importantly there are 4 cultural institutions in the city of Saltpeter, Firstly is the Library, it is one of the 3 which is actually known to the people of Saltpeter, and houses exactly 17,943 books and 67 are currently checked out. Next is the Museum of Maria Fernando, a town crazy lady who runs a museum on the way things used to be, this is the institution people like to forget, despite mattering quite a lot to the city, it has received exactly 17 visitors this month and stays afloat via Maria’s wife’s second cousin’s generous yearly donations in exchange for copies of old novels. The 3rd cultural institution is the rail station, it is on the route of the oldest train in the nation, the California Zephyr and is run by the best chef in the city, Leaf Ann Smith, capable of both killing a man and cooking in Omelette in under 20 minutes. Finally there's the Pen shop, they sell pens, specifically fountain pens, each are hand made by a Saltpeter craftsman, it made the list because we were paid 72$ to add it. If someone wants to stretch the definition of an institution, they could get it up to about 20 institutions and a playhouse worth of cultural amenities, but they would also have to include the brunch of the misfits of Saltpeter, which really shouldn’t be added on principle since it happens in Leaf Ann Smith’s train station anyways.

Now back to the Brunch, something very important is about to happen, There will be a rather large toast to the group. This is on account of it being the 3rd anniversary of the start of the groups monthly meetings. Somehow that is a point of pride among the members due to how it is the longest any Brunch group in Saltpeter has lasted after the Infamous Brunch fights 20 years ago. The Brunch fights were a rather dreary matter for such a pleasant pastime. 27 dead and 63 injured over a week. All because of bad French Toast at an upscale restaurant near downtown Saltpeter. And when I say bad, I mean bad, it was soggy, barely toasted, and didn't have any fruits except the one eating it. It's not even like Saltpeter doesn't have any strawberries, it was built on the largest strawberry farm west of the Mississippi. How do you fuck up French Toast that badly? How?

Oh right, the Toast to the Brunch crew, A tall woman in a Green Dress, a leather Jacket and Gold Hoop earings stands up, her hair is cut in a pixie cut. She grabs a Mimosa off the table and begins to talk. Hurricane Jane Rivers as they call her is many things, a lesbian, crazy, a storm chaser, dangerous, a purveyor of Pancakes, a painter and an aerial ace, but one thing she is not is consise. It would take 7 paragraphs to summarize her speech to that disparate group of oddities. In short though, she was thanking them for the best 3 years of her life. Little did she know, only half of them would see next month.

As her glass hits the glass of another member of the Brunch, a whisper rings through the air.

A tick of a second

And Bang, the train comes to a screeching halt outside the station, passengers get off as Leaf Ann Smith scrambles to hide her current mess of a Diner from the view of the wealthy tourists from downtown the tracks. The train is early for once. Precisely 17 minutes and 6 seconds early, something that should not have been possible given the fact that the train tracks were under repairs between Omaha and Saltpeter. And the train had a 2 minute delay when it arrived at the last station. This is all irrelevant if not to show how off guard it caught Leaf Ann Smith who usually manages to keep incredibly on top of the schedules of the train so she can run the station and Diner at once. Leaf Ann Smith is a busy Woman between the Diner, the Station and her time moonlighting as the union negotiator for between the carpenters guild and Sylvia Ink the sole crafter of fountain pens in Saltpeter and a person notoriously bad at paying their union dues. Now in a hurry, she rushes to kick out the Brunch party and clean up the messes left behind in her diner today. She had to rush the 20 people ot for a rather simple reason, she needs money to run a diner and the train is what brings her the best customers each day. As the crowd of weirdos and homosexuals scurries away. One Slyvia Ink bumps right into a Jim Halder. The only man in the city who still knows their face.

Jim Halder is a professor at the University of Saltpeter and has 40 years of Tenure there, starting as a professor at 31, despite being in his 70s, he looks rather young, with a smooth face and deep black hair, this however is a lie. If you look closely at his hair, you’ll notice a long white steak and an indent on his face above his left eye. This is because Jim’s face is not his first, while studying in the mines of Saltpeter, his face was burned off, and a new wooden one had to be constructed by Sylvia Ink, one of the only 4 things they ever made that wasn’t a fountain pen, the other 3 are another less lifelike mask, the hilt of a blade, and pen holder to hold their pens. Jim is a man of learning, giving every book he writes to the library after he publishes it, 14 of the books that are currently checked out were donated by him. If you were to inspect Jim closely you would also find that you could knock him over quite easily with a single punch due to his slim frame. The university that he works at is not considered a cultural institution by even the most generous people in Saltpeter because nothing of interest has been produced in the for 67 years. Well apart from Sylvia Ink and Jim Halder, and their incredible works of course, the two little wooden people of Saltpeter.

Jim was naturally surprised to see Sylvia at the station, but glad nonetheless to see that young fellow out of the workshop. When they bumped into each other, quite literally, as Sylvia had been too focused on a croissant to notice the man ahead of him. He proposed to the young carpenter that they go over to the old river park for a stroll to discuss the terms for the new project.

Despite being a chilly 50 degrees out, if you were to head across town from the rail station, over to the river. You will find 2 men on the banks of the river. One is sitting in a rather large Sycamore tree, reading a book, when he hears the train rush past. He is wearing a blue sweater and long pants, the other man is dressed quite poorly for the weather, he is wearing nothing but a swimsuit and his golden locks of hair. He stupidly planned on Swimming in the river today. He is 6 feet tall and somehow not freezing. These peculiar fellows meant to be at the brunch but the one in the Sweater, Alex Cela had set his pocket watch 3 hours behind. Even knowing this now, he was still caught off guard by the train crossing over the river since the train had not been early in 3 months. Despite being totally different, one a bit of an idiot and the other a top marks student at the University of Saltpeter, they have been dating for 2 months, and six days if either had remembered to keep track of that. They met at the park, Alex was trying to paint the trains and Damien had been trying to teach a cat how to swim, the pair of them instantly became friends after Alex stopped trying to attack Damien for ruining the painting. And the two started dating a week after they met, when Damien kissed Alex under an Oak tree in the town square. These 2 lovers were not however the only people in the park. There were about 400 give or take 27 people in that park on this chilly morning. But none of them Matter, None of them except for Emily Rock

#tags reply #last ride of the california zephyr

[myfandomprompts]

𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭 | 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝟕)

Summary: Close to the line, you have to find a way on the other side. The time where you and Tom will have to part approaches.

Previous Part - Masterlist

Warnings: none.

French spoken -> italics

Tom clutched his jacket around his shoulders, forced to notice that summer nights in France were as unforgiving as they were in England; the humidity falling on their skins sending chills through his spine.

The jacket still smelled like whatever bleach they used at the hospital back in Paris, and the packets inside his pockets only had a few cigarettes left. He had been keeping count, its number diminishing as they approached the crossing line, and the only one he didn’t regret losing was the one he had given you.

“You look like a ghost,” he remarked, eyes on your pale face emphasised by the white light of the moon that shone on the dirt track they were currently walking on. Your eyes were aimlessly looking at the ground and the shawl around your shoulder gave you a mystical aura that had him fascinated.

But regardless how spellbound he was, Tom was genuinely still worried about you.

“Hum… Thank you?” you answered, tilting your head in his direction, making him smile internally.

Oh, don’t worry, love, you still look bloody beautiful.

“Have you had some water?” Henriette asked at your side as she extended her gourd to you.

You contemplated the object before taking it. “Damn, I would kill for some hot tea right now,” you muttered before taking several sips of the freezing liquid before wiping your lips with the back of your hand. They were a lovely shade of pink and Tom noticed that it contrasted with the paleness of your face beautifully.

“I heard German tea’s not that bad,” he said after a moment, putting his hands in his pockets with a teasing smile.

Both women looked at him and scowled, making him grin wider. “I’m joking…They got good beer, though.”

Henriette shook her head in exasperation while you met his eyes, a small smile on your lips as you watched him with a glint of forbidden amusement. Yep, breathtaking. 

Albert and Giulia walked in front of them, deep in conversation that had been going on since they left the factory and when the first lights of the morning pierced the sky, Tom barely noticed Albert slow down to walk at his pace while you walked further ahead. “So, you… in Dunkerque?”

Tom lifted his head in surprise, wondering how the conversation would go with both of them not exactly speaking each other’s language. The only French Tom had picked up from his time in this country were the words for water, car, bread and German.

Nothing that would help him with your brother at the moment. “Yeah. Evacuated and all, a mess.”

Albert seemed to understand. “Tiré… You shot?” he continued, flattening his fist over his own shoulder before pointing at Tom’s.

“Yeah, shot by a bloody chaser. Stuka,” he clarified when he saw Albert frown in incomprehension.

The latter only nodded at the known word before lowering his hand over his thigh. “Me too, shot. But less… courageux. I ran from German when come here, they shot us. Bullet hit a little,” he added as he tapped the fabric of his trousers pensively. “One friend… didn’t survive.”

They fell in a respectful silence, Albert’s expression turning melancholic while they reminisced about what they had lost. Tom saw images of a hand extended to him amidst flashing red lights, followed by a face, half burned, lying on the deck, dead. The face that belonged to the hand he didn’t take. A strong feeling of guilt burned his tongue, the memory of Vic rendering his throat sour.

Once they’re gone, they’re gone, you should make it right when you can.

“You have sister, brother?”

“A sister, Lois,” Tom answered a little more brightly as the dreadful images disappeared, replaced by his sister’s big blue eyes warming his chest. “Hell of a singer.”

Albert paused for a moment to understand the last word before nodding again. “So you understand. What it is, to be… protective of sister.”

Tom’s head snapped up, meeting Albert’s stern gaze. “Uh… Yeah, I don’t know. She never really needed anything of me… Older sister and all, I guess.”

Your brother feigned to understand before keeping on, pointing at you walking in front of them. “Y/N, little sister to me. Protect her,” he assured as he witnessed Tom’s growing confusion. “Once, a boy, he, uh… broke Y/N heart,” he trailed, looking for the English words with difficulty. “You know what I did?”

Tom shook his head slowly, replacing confusion for complete nervousness as he waited for your brother to answer his own question, body tense in expectation.

Only Albert did not utter a word, instead drawing his lips into a thin line and coming to apply a slight pressure on Tom’s valid shoulder, resting there for an uncomfortable amount of time. He watched him intensely, conveying what he wanted to say through the light taps on his shoulder and Tom felt his body freeze, feeling the weight of his meaning.

Then he felt the pressure disappear and Albert walked away, returning to his place next to Guilia, leaving a stunned Tom behind.

“What is it again…”

Several hours later, you had reached a crossing, people trampling around in the shade of the trees under the morning sun, disarray radiating from them. Cars were passing by, going in the opposite direction with their engines roaring and you had to dodge two of them in order to let them pass. You all stopped, unwilling to merge with the disorganised crowd.

“Excuse me,” Giulia called out to a slowing black car, approaching the driver. “What is happening?”

“If you’re asking about why people are stopping, it’s because there’s a German post ahead. They have the bridge under their control, alright. I guess all those folks don’t know what to do about it, can’t cross with the river.”

Henriette swore under her breath, rising to look above the heads before her, as if hoping to see the Germans in the distance.

“Where are you coming from?” Giulia continued, looking at the luggage on the back seat of the car.

“Châteauroux, going back home… Turns out,  I had a flat tyre and they helped me change it when I went through them,” the driver said, tapping his  car door.

“... the German helped you change your tyre?” Albert asked, sceptical.

“They did, indeed,” he answered before driving away, leaving your group behind disconcerted.

“What do we do?” you asked after explaining the situation to Tom.

“I…”

“How are we going to cross the line? I’m not passing through them,” spat Henriette.

“You and Y/N could pass on your own, you’re just going home, right? You have nothing to hide,” remarked Albert. “Even Tom here would pass for a lost lad, just look at him.”

“I’m not leaving you,” you interject, taking your brother’s arm and glancing at Tom with concern.

“It doesn’t work like that… The Germans must be on edge, they’ll be suspicious of anything, without mentioning that he is supposed to be dead,”  trailed Giulia deep in thought, looking around like the grapevine fields held the answer she was looking for.

“So what do we do?”

Giulia let Henriette’s question linger in the air for a while before pursing her lips, looking west. “We find a passage point of our own. They can’t be everywhere yet."

And here you were walking again, fatigue starting to seriously eat at your core and the sole of your shoes was starting to wear out, making you regret not bringing a second pair. You passed a nearby village bordering the Cher river that prevented you from going further, a herd of cows half immersed in the water in order to escape the heat. Aside from dogs barking in the distance, all was quiet as you walked up the street, not a soul present outside as if the stony houses and green gardens were deserted. This is why you felt uneasy when you were made self-conscious of the only pair of eyes staring at your group like a hawk, standing in her yard behind a wooden fence with a distrustful icy glare that silently followed your progress. The said woman looked old, cutting out wild branches out of a bush with sharp shears in her hands and stopping when you finally noticed her.

“I’m going to ask her.”

“This is a bad idea, Henriette…” you whispered to your friend, not liking the dark expression the woman bore one bit.

But she didn’t have to ask anything, the harsh voice of the woman suddenly filling the air. “What you lot doing here? You’re not from here.”

You thought it bizarre for someone so close to the line to be surprised by a group of strangers weeks after the first waves of exodus, but you didn’t think too much about it, rather waiting for someone else to speak. Albert was the one who approached her. “No we’re not, we live further south, madame. We just want… We’re looking to cross the river.”

Giulia had her hand over your brother’s arm in a previous attempt to stop him from speaking but now she looked interested in whatever answer the woman would give. The latter froze momentarily before taking a deep annoyed breath, suspicion still adorning her features. When she spoke again, her tone had softened, however. “Hmpf. You’ll want the last house on the right at the end of the road.”

You all looked at each other in puzzlement while Tom eyed the woman curiously. “Merci beaucoup,” bowed your brother in thanks and took Giulia by the arm to lead her in the right direction while you did the same with Tom, thanking the woman silently in turn.

“And not a word!” she called after you roughly with a loud whisper. You looked back at her frightened before resuming your walk.

“She sounds like a lovely lady. Wouldn’t like venturing close to those shears of hers, though,” Tom said as he glanced at her over his shoulder with a mild smirk, your hands curled around his elbow as you led him away. “Care about my limbs too much for that." 

“Of course you do,” you said playfully and you sensed his gaze on you again.

“What? You don’t think it would be a loss if I… missed some parts?”

You rolled your eyes as you tried not to blush, but your cheeks turned hot despite your better efforts, the smile on your lips reaching your eyes and Tom let out a soft laugh that made Albert turn with a raised brow. You lowered your gaze to the ground, struggling to keep the sinful thoughts at bay.

The house at the end of the road was more of a farm, two barns at each side of the entrance and as many dogs to welcome you loudly as you passed the gates. At the sound of the agitation, a man who you presumed to be the owner came out of the main building at the opposite side of the yard to call after them, whistling them to heel.

“Who are you? What do you want?” he barked when he reached your group taking great steps, his dogs circling him excitedly. He was mid-aged, strong looking with a bushy beard that hid his neck and you were reminded of the shepherds in your childhood stories.

“We… were directed to this house. We need to cross the river. Sir,” spoke Giulia when she saw the man’s eyes turn into slits. He scrutinised each and every one of you, lingering to observe Albert from head to toe before losing his wary expression as fast as it had come. “Come on, quick.”

You all crossed the courtyard and followed him inside the main building obediently, the dogs behind you now happily sniffing your legs with breathy huffs. Once in a large room with a low ceiling that made Tom duck a little as he entered, the man turned to you all, standing awkwardly and taking in your surroundings with bashful stares.

“Quite the group you have there,” he announced, taking several glasses out of a cupboard and laying them down on the table. “Fruit brandy? Blackberry, homemade.”

You eyed the brown bottle he was agitating in his hand with narrowed eyes before Henriette answered for you, nodding in agreement and the man proceeded to pour a little amount in each glass before beckoning you all to sit around the large table. Only Tom and Giulia stayed up, unwilling to sit on the empty chairs next to the man.

You winced when the thick liquid hit the inside of your throat, burning; but it felt good after the night you had, your head still throbbing a little from your fall. Henriette wore the same mixed expression as you while Tom observed his glass unconvinced before drinking, shaking his head in reaction when he put the glass back down on the table with a thud.

The man then took out cigarettes from his jacket and extended it towards you with raised eyebrows. You refused with a grateful smile while Albert and Tom gladly took one.

“So here’s what’s going to happen," he started as he took a ciggy of his own. "We can’t make you cross in daylight because they’re surveilling the river, so you’re stuck here until nightfall. If a problem comes along, anything at all, you hide in there,” he pointed to an open door on the side, large enough to contain three brooms and a bucket. “You stay quiet, and all will be well. They already searched the house two days ago, so they shouldn’t be back until a while.”

“Merci, Monsieur,” voiced Henriette as she took another sip of her glass while you explained the plan to Tom. “May we know your name?”

“No,” he answered as he flicked a match. “The less you know about me, the better. Remember, do not- ever, talk about the people that help you, it’s too dangerous.”

Giulia nodded in agreement, a rule she already knew while Tom looked at the wooden door with an incredulous look. “We can’t all go in there.”

The man looked up at him with surprise, taking a minute to comprehend that Tom spoke another language altogether. “What did he say?”

“He said that we all won’t fit,” you translated, agreeing with him on that point.

The man stared at Tom for a moment before getting up slowly, walking around the table and coming to stand inches from Tom’s face who didn’t flinch one bit. “Maybe it’s because there is a basement behind that panel, wiseass.” 

Tom titled his head back slightly, an unimpressed smile dancing on his lips as he looked back at you. “What was that?”

“Nothing, he just says there is a basement we can hide in beneath it,” you explained standing up instantly in order to softly drag Tom away by the arm, giving a reassuring nod to your host as the others shifted uncomfortably. It seems to suffice because the man regained his chair while Tom took a drag out of his cigarette, looking aloof and wearing a self-sufficient expression.

“Is there a place where we could rest, sir? We… didn’t have much sleep last night.”

He crushed his bud before leading you to your ‘accommodation’ with a waving hand, you and Henriette taking an old looking sofa in an adjacent room while the others are left to sleep comfortably in the barn with blankets. “I warn you, it gets hot in the afternoon,”  he announced before leaving them there.

As you close your eyes, trying to find sleep, anxiety claws at your chest at the idea that tonight, you would cross the river with a real risk looming over your group for the first time since you left.

You wake up in the evening, feeling drowsy but a little bit better and only your stressful state from what you will do tonight remains. Outside, the light has started to dim and you can hear frogs croaking in unison in the distance as you move through the house, all of you converging to the dining room where you are offered ham and bread along with some fruit. You eat in apprehensive silence, only broken by curt questions asked by your host like ‘Where are you from’ or ‘What happened in that factory’.

You don’t really participate, lulled by the outside sounds and the soft ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece, nightfall arriving at a slow pace. In front of you, Tom doesn’t speak either, his fingers drumming on the wooden table at times, wearing a plain expression as you glance at him through your eyelashes. He looks relaxed, but you know better, know him better; he is as anxious as you are, and you can’t even reach for him to make him feel less alone.

You linger in the kitchen to wash the plates with the help of Henriette while your brother and Giulia disappear somewhere in the house to talk over the plan, the bearded man soon announcing that he has some preparation to make and exits in turn. You haven’t noticed Tom slip out of the room at all in your focused state, so when you are done with the dishes, you wipe your hands on your towel and step outside in order to look for him, not liking him alone.

The dogs are playing in the yard joyfully, unbeknownst to your nerves on edge and you stop to briefly pet them; the licks they give you lifting your spirit a little before going straight for the smaller barn, the door slightly ajar.

He is there, sitting on a haystack with his legs stretched out, a cigarette hanging from his lips as his gaze is fixed on some chickens trotting around, looking for leftovers on the ground. You approach, coming to sit beside him and he acknowledges your presence with what you think is a fleeting satisfied expression before resuming his quiet observation.

“Find anything interesting about farm life, sailor?” you try, examining his profile, the bruises taking a yellow shade there as he puffs out a cloud of smoke.

“I’m wondering how good a fried chicken would taste right now,” he answers solemnly with a nod towards the winged creatures shuffling around. “I bet the old man wouldn’t even notice a missing bird.”

You watch in turn, agreeing with him, but you’re only reminded of how cunning Tom can be, smiling yo yourself. “Old habits die hard, I see.”

He turns his head to you, a glint of amusement playing in his eyes. “You really think I settled to steal birds back home? Didn’t know you had such a low opinion of me.”

“Can’t tell, I never knew what you were up to, really,” you shrug as you grab the smoke between his fingers to bring it to your lips. "And I know for a fact that you love birds." 

He watches the movement, endeared by it and how your rosy lips enclose his own cigarette, right there by his side. “Where are the others?”

You take another drag before handing it back to him, pursing your lips. “Henriette is helping out in the kitchen and-”

“Let me guess,” he interrupts, a smirk stretching at the corner of his mouth as his face brightens. “Your brother and my lovely guide are alone together somewhere, discussing like they’re thick as thieves.”

You part your lips in mild surprise, unsettled by his confidence. “How do you know?”

“C’mon,” he hints, making you frown. “I may not speak French, but I have eyes.”

You get lost in your thoughts for a few seconds, reminiscing about the last few days and Tom's words slowly start to make sense in your mind. All of the time he spent with her, his ease when she is near.

“Well… Good for him,” you conclude as a chicken starts rummaging close to your foot.

Tom leans back against the wall again with a musing sound, eyes not leaving you and enjoying how unsettled he had made you. But then a question comes into his mind and he flicks some ashes away, swallowing nervously. “Say… Your brother he… Never got into a fight, did he?”

You glance back at him, a smile gradually tugs at the corner of your lips as you lean backwards, mimicking him. “Whatever he told you, I guarantee he exaggerated,” you laugh softly. “Albert is a kind soul, never got carried away.”

“So he never… beat up someone? Not once? Can happen to everybody.”

You look at the ceiling as you shake your memory, humming in the process. “He may have had some scraps when we were younger, but apart from that… Why do you ask?”

He hesitates, playing with the tip of his fag. “Just… something about you being heartbroken?”

You turn your head to look up at him, brushing his shoulder in the process, his scent like pine trees reaching your senses. His eyes are trained on you, serious now, and you feel something thrum in your chest before you answer. “Ah… That. Albert wanted to do something about it but he only ended up giving him a good scolding. I was young, I thought it was the end of the world but looking back, it was absolutely meaningless,” you comment, turning one of the rings on your finger distractedly. "I don’t think I’ve ever been heartbroken, you know?”

You hear his soft exhale next to your ear as smoke escapes his lips, glimpsing the slight nod of his head from the corner of your eye. Over the silence you search his face, his eyes are transfixed ahead of him and the desire to be able to read his thoughts passes over you. “...Have you?”

His eyes snap at you at that, their soft blue glow making you pause as he answers contemplatively. “No, I don’t think so… Not yet, at least.”

You turn your tongue in your mouth, stopping words from leaving it as you stare back at the chickens, his gaze hot on the side of your face. You’re tempted to look back, to acknowledge what you chose to ignore obstinately, instead conjuring a memory from your childhood home and recounting it to Tom. All of that to brush away the inevitable future, because you knew it would hurt, you just had to make it less painful, some way or another.

He listens to you, speaking about him in turn without complaint and you talk for what seems like hours, reminiscing stories of your childhood you never got to tell each other while in Manchester. 

When you come to the subject of Tom’s first serious infraction the chickens are long gone, having run back in their respective coop for the night. Eventually, the conversation fades down, less enthusiastic as dark falls completely outside, a single lamp hanging over an oaken beam your sole source of light. You feel so comfortable next to him, your knees brushing his in the need to compensate for the cool air settling down over your skin with the warmth radiating from his body. But at the sight of the night finally taking over, anguish comes back to nag at you and you still shiver.

“How far is it?” Tom asks softly after a while, no smile discernable in his voice. “Where you’re going?”

“About… 150 km,” you answer with a strained voice, conjuring a mental map. “Maybe two days of walk, give or take…”

“So not very far, then…” he murmurs pensively, and you can’t help but look at him with saddening eyes. He looks so… exhausted.

“We still have time,” you assure, turning fully to him as you feel his anguish reach you, the one you refused to acknowledge earlier. “We have to cross the river, and then-”

“Doesn’t change the fact that in a matter of days we might never see each other again.”

He meets your eyes for a fleeting moment, his blue eyes piercing yours, sombre before they’re gone again, as if looking at you pained him greatly. You feel your breath hitch in your throat, your heart constricting in your chest. You don't want him looking at you like this.

You see the subtle clenching of his jaw and your fingers reach for it, softly bringing his face to look back at you, your chin almost touching his shoulder with the proximity. “Don’t say that. There will be an after, we just have to wait for the better days to come. For the war to be over."

His eyes shut briefly at your touch, and you can feel the way he imperceptibly leans into it. “We might never get there. The Nazis won't stop, England won't surrender in a million years, and somewhere along the way I'll be fighting for the other side, left to hope that you're alright."

Your eyelids feel heavy, fluttering slowly, wondering if the weight of his words have something to do with it. "Nothing will happen to me as nothing will happen to you. You just have to make it to Spain, then start from there." 

"You won't even know if I made it, if I ever do, anyway."

“Giulia will get you there, I trust she will. Then we'll both be home, we'll know we're safe. We'll be with our families, with our loved one."

A weak smile cracks over his lips, one of his hands coming to reach over yours resting at the side of his face, your fingers trailing the edge of his jaw, unkempt by days of travel. You get lost in the gesture there, at the feel of it while he rubs his thumb on the inside of your wrist, soft circles of soothing affection. 

“Don’t you feel that it won’t be enough?”

His question grazes your skin, uttered so closely and making your eyes shift to his, their blue piercing through your soul like hot coals and you shiver. But inside, you feel warm, a bright glow filling your chest and you are sure its light can reach him, like you’re sharing the same hammering hearts, the same thoughts, meaningful words hanging in the air between you but unable to unhook. It’s almost painful, the ache that wants you closer to him, and when you lower your eyes to his lips there is suddenly no distance anymore, the caress over your inner wrist stopping to grip it softly.

The kiss is full of longing, lips entrapped against each other with carefulness, tender skin against tender skin and it’s overwhelming, right. You’re not sure about what you’re doing but you need it, Tom responding with the gentlest touch he has ever given you and a veil falls over your mind, the necessity to forget about the cold truth of the days to come filling every cell of your body, replaced by this instant. You wonder if he feels the same as you get lost in his, the pain you wanted to avoid out of reach. His tongue dances with yours at a slow pace, wishing time would go as leisurely, his pressure on your wrist binding you both in soft adoration.

“Y/N? Y/N, are you there? Oh-”

You shift instantly at the voice of your brother, his head appearing within the frame of the door just in time for Tom to back away from you in a fluid movement, distancing himself like you’d burned him. Albert wears a gobsmacked expression, glancing between you and Tom while the latter only stares at the ground with his head down. You, for your part, look at him unabashedly, waiting for him to speak, a frustrating feeling of loss coursing through your body.

“It’s time, we need to go,” Albert announces after an uncomfortable silence, and then he is gone, leaving you to look back at Tom still looking downwards, teeth digging into his bottom lip, looking like a teenager caught in the act.

When he meets your gaze, you cannot help the wide smile that spreads across your face. “Don't.”

“I didn’t say anything!” you laugh at Tom’s flustered expression, the shade of his cheeks adorable as you wonder if yours wears the same colour, feeling blissfully happy.

But when you both get up and go for the main house, stress gradually regains your nerves for what is to come.

Part 8

A/N: Thank you @babyblue711 & @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan as always, I won't be able to do much without you.

@chainsawsangel@mischiefmanaged71@depressedperson88@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan@yentroucnagol@tssf-imagines @nightdiamond8663 @lauraneedstochill @unleashthelion @helaenaluvr @omgkatherine01 @launotfound @r0segard3n

#tom bennett #tom bennet x reader #wof #world on fire #tom bennet imagine #smut #tom bennett fanfiction #ewan mitchell #angst #fluff #world on fire 1x01 #gone with regret #usermyfandomprompts

[oddlittlestories]

Notre Dame Visit

Wrote up a little fic to go with this WIP fanart! This is inspired by @greghatecrimes elaborating on my life changing field trips post, and is currently brought to you by Anya’s prompt re my Halloween fic ask game.

Fic under the cut.

Chase & Thirteen as found family siblings. They're backpacking through Europe. Late s6 AU, probably consistent w/HH:Reprise. Trans masc bi Chase as a treat.

CW: mild travel danger, religious irreverence, religious homophobia reference

“Are you sure? Are you sure you’re sure?” Chase whispered. Not that whispering was gonna help him. She was loud enough for the both of them.

“Yes, we’re fine," Thirteen cackled, "now take the damn photo.” She raised her middle finger to the ceiling of the cathedral. He supposed it was her way of sticking it to all that religious homophobia. They were a hell of a pair to be anywhere near a cathedral—a failed novice divorced bi trans guy with blood on his hands, and a deliberately-irreverent bi woman after House's own heart. But as Thirteen liked to say every time she dragged him into a cathedral, which seemed to be as often as possible, they hadn't spontaneously burst into flames even once.

That said, Chase could just imagine a priest clamping his hand firmly down on his arm… Chase hunched his shoulders, trying desperately to look over his shoulder and take the photo as fast as he could at the same time. Maybe no one would notice. If he could’ve melted into the Notre Dame floor he would have. It was mortifying.

He took the photo and lowered the phone as quickly as he could. Still, it came out pretty cool.

“Okay, let me see,” Thirteen said, scrambling for his iPhone.

“It’s fine,” Chase insisted, trying to tuck the phone back in his jacket pocket.

“I want to be sure! What if it’s blurry?” Thirteen made grabby hands, struggling with him over the device.

“It’s not blurry!” he insisted.

“Then show me!”

“Fine!” Chase heaved a sigh and let her have the phone.

She snickered. “Yeah that’s really good, you were right.” She sent the photo to House before he could even try to stop her. Chase rolled his eyes. As soon as House got it, he’d do what he’d done with the rest: print it out and tape it to the ddx whiteboard. Foreman would text him to complain about how hard it was to ddx “now that it was a scrapbook instead.” Kutner would use the red sharpie he bought to draw horns on Thirteen and Chase in the photos.

It was a group activity, apparently.

Later that night, Chase and Thirteen crammed shoulder to shoulder at the bar of a centuries-old pub. It wasn’t far from the hostel, and around them spilled French and English and a bunch more languages Chase probably could pick out if he tried.

“Mm, this is delicious,” Thirteen said. “Here, try.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice. He leaned in and took a crunchy bite. It was the best toasted cheese on bread Chase had ever had in his life. “Wow,” he mumbled, mouth full.

“I know, right?”

On their walk back to the hostel, the lights of Paris were glittering. It wasn’t nearly as quiet here as it was in rural Spain, and Chase thought they were both dazzled by the city after that. Paris was definitely a tourist town though. They cut down a side street for a shortcut to their hostel.

Thirteen got distracted by something in a shop window. He wasn’t sure what, because by the time he noticed she was just behind him, a guy was cutting between them. He was a street hawker, with “I heart Paris” lanyards hung all up one arm. And he was getting in Chase’s face, trying to grab him.

“Woah, there, buddy,” Chase said. “Hands to yourself.” But the guy would not lay off. He wasn’t sure what to do. He was probably gonna get pickpocketed if he did nothing. Or worse, he thought darkly, noticing how the guy was subtly directing him towards a dark alley.

And suddenly Thirteen was there.

She slipped her arm around Chase’s shoulders and said, “My brother and I have to go now.” It was just surprising enough that she scooped him away from the hawker and out into the busy cross-street.

“Thanks.” His voice was breathless with relief.

“Yeah, I did not like where that was going. You okay?”

Chase patted himself down, trying to ignore the way “brother” was rotating around in his head. Even if it didn't last… He frowned appraisingly. “Yeah. I’m great.”

Thirteen grinned and they headed into the hostel together, where their room with its two twin beds was waiting.

They had it down to a routine now, so it only took a moment for them to change and crawl into bed. Thirteen turned out the light, and Chase pulled his soft blanket up to his chest. In the darkness, it felt safe to say things. He played the word brother over and over in his head. He knew it was true. But how often do you get that kind of thing confirmed? “I’m glad we made this trip. Me and you.”

“Me, too.” Her voice was warm.

It had been a hard year, but right here and right now, Chase was so, so happy.

#Chase and Thirteen as siblings #lifechanging field trips #house md #remy thirteen hadley #robert chase #Chase & Thirteen #Thirteen & Chase #found family #fanfic #fanfiction #my fanfiction #fanart #my fanart #house md fanart #notre dame cathedral #Catholic cathedral #irreverence #Europe #Paris #France

[the-s1lly-corner]

Can we get a short scenario of Tim (Masky) x fem! Reader on the morning of christmas pls? 👉👈

Masky with a fem!S/O on Christmas

Hello hello!!! Thank you for requesting :D!! I hope you enjoy this!! Pardon me for any typos or grammar mistakes, I'm on mobile <\3 :(

I've never written for Tim/Masky so!! Double apologies if it's OOC!!

With that said, I hope you enjoy!!

I tried writing this more like how MH tim is, rather than how the CRP fandom portrays him!! Hope that's alright!!

You wake up early in the morning, alone in your bed. A rare occurrence, given your boyfriend tended to sleep in, his body exhausted from whatever he had gotten himself into the night prior... you never pried, and he seemed to appreciate it.. actually, he never seemed to be angry at you for asking, but rather seemed to be more frustrated that he couldn't recall what happens when he disappears. Mysterious bruises on his arms, or small cuts on his knuckles, both of which could never be explained

But there was proof that your partner was here.

As you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and let them adjusted to the light flooding in through the window, you catch sight of the brown jacket hung on your doorknob. The door it was attatched too was half opened, the hallway light turned on

So, still dressed in your pajamas, you tug yourself to your feet and shuffled yourself to the door

You didn't bother to straighten your hair as you stepped out into the hallway

Now that you were out of your room you could hear something in the kitchen, prompting you to quicken your pace, walking by the lit up Christmas tree stationed in your living room

As you turned the corner, you saw him

He never struck you as a holiday person, but yet here Tim stood at the kitchen counter, in a bright red sweater and humming a tune as he cooked some scrambled eggs

As soon as you set foot into the kitchen, his humming stopped, turning the heat off

"About time, princess," he said as he began to plate the eggs

It was refreshing to see him without a cigarette pressed between his lips

He had made french toast and scrambled eggs for the two of you

"You're up early," you said, making your way to the small kitchen table and sat down

He quickly joined you with the food

"It's christmas," he shrugged

Your eyes widened. Was it already Christmas Day? You could have sworn there was still a week to go

"Did you forget?" He asked, but his tone was playful

A rarity

A shy nod was all he needed, before the two of you began to eat, with small talk littered throughout the meal

He finished before you, but stay put in his seat. You didn't notice, but he was watching you closely, almost studying every movement you made

From how you cut your toast, to how your jaw moved as it grinded the bread down

If you had noticed, you didn't think much of it. Tim was always like this, from the day you met him

It stayed this way, with him observing you; until you were the one watching him, as he washed the plates

He had insisted it

"So is this my Christmas gift?" You teased, getting a huff as Tim dried his hands

"Oh hush," he replied as his lips curled slightly into a smile

"Though, if that's what you really wanted; I could return what I got for you,"

A joke, obviously, judging by the smile plastered on his face

Oh yeah

Presents

Those are a thing

Cue the pair of you making your way into the living room and settled on the couch, with you presenting the gifts to one another

"Here," you said, giving Tim the gift you had gotten for him

Asides from a thanks, he didn't speak as he unwrapped it, tearing right through the wrapping you spent so long trying to perfect

Of course, you put everything you had gotten him into a great big box; saving you from having to wrap several boxes

Opening the box, Tim's brows rose

Inside the box there were a few objects. A new jacket, as his old one was growing tattered from.. whatever antics he got himself into. A new pair of boots. An expensive bottle of cologne. And some other trinkets

He didn't speak for a minute, before once again thanking you for the gifts

"Well now my gift looks silly.." he pouted

"I'm sure it's not," you reassured and pulled the box he had gave you closer to you

You carefully peeled back the tape, and pulled the wrapping off the box

Opening it you find a large stuffed plush, a jacket that matched Tim's, and a puzzle shaped necklace

"What's this?" You asked as you held up one of the chains and brought the jewelry closer to your face

Tim gently took it from you, separating the two puzzle pieces from one another, and handed one piece back to you

"Necklace.. one of those couple ones that go together," he said softly

"I figured since.. I'm not always around, this could be some...." he said, rolling his free hand as he searched for the words. "Sentimental.. thing..?" He said with flushed cheeks

He never was good with the whole dating thing

But that's what won you over when you first started dating

With a soft giggle, you set the box to the side and pulled yourself close to him

"I love it.. thanks, sweetheart," you hummed quietly as you both snuggled by the colorful light of the Christmas tree

And there we go!! This turned out way longer than I initially expected, but I blame that on the fact I kept getting distracted <\3

I hope you like it!! This was interesting for me to write, for the reasons stated in the note above and because??? My family??? Doesnt celebrate Christmas like most people do?? We open gifts at night and all that other stuff

So!!

Uh!!

Yeah!!

I hope you enjoy this and it wasn't too

Bad

!!

#creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x you #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta #crp #creepypasta tim #creepypasta masky #masky #marble hornets #marble hornets tim

[sunnyrealist]

🌶️ Chapter 33: The Greatest Treasure 🌶️

The Sun, the Moon, and All Our Stars

Summary and Details…

Art: Chapter art was created by @giselsann-opencommissions. The full NSFW artwork is available on AO3. I made the mistake of posting it here and got flagged, so hopefully this works with the guidelines. Please do not follow the link or read this chapter unless you are 18+.

Chapter Background and Summary: Sebastian and Kate are at the end of the second day of their adventurous camping trip in the Scottish Highlands. They have had a great deal of time to get to know each other on a deeper level. The two have impressed each other with their skills - Sebastian with his navigation and Kate with all of her perfectly prepared meals. This chapter features conversation about their family holiday traditions, as well as some rather enjoyable time skinny-dipping in a river.

Pairing: 25-year-old, post-Azkaban Sebastian Sallow x Kate Mayflower (my OC)

Content warnings: In general, this story is rated 18+, so MNDI. For this particular chapter - outdoor sex, skinny-dipping, and a couple other mentions of gettin' frisky.

The full chapter is available below the cut; it can also be found on AO3 (link is posted below). Please leave some feedback. A comment, like, or Kudos would be quite motivational. 🥰

Chapter 33: The Greatest Treasure

Placing the blanket, her sketchbook, and an assortment of freshly picked purple wildflowers in her bag, Kate closes it up and reduces its size, sliding it into her pocket next to her wand. Sebastian watches her as she takes a final look at the secret forest clearing, sighing. 

“Maybe one day we’ll return here,” Sebastian suggests. “Now, we know where purple heaven is.”

Kate is exhausted by the time they decide to make camp again, about four hours later, just outside the edge of the forest near a river. Her feet ache from all of the walking. Sebastian offers to fill a bucket with hot water so she can soak them while he sets up the tent. She gratefully accepts, finding a large boulder on which to perch. Pulling off her boots and dropping them to the ground, she plunges her feet into the warm water, her eyes closing momentarily in quiet contentment. 

As Sebastian sets up the different components of the tent, he removes more and more of his clothing, despite the cool temperature. First, his tan jacket is dropped onto the ground, then his vest and tie, and finally, he lets his suspenders down, clad in only his white tunic and brown trousers. Kate feels a bit guilty for ogling him while she relaxes, but he seems to enjoy it. He catches her staring and fully plays into it, giving her cute little smirks and even starting to flex his arms, causing her to laugh in response. 

When he is finished, Kate urges him to take some time to relax as well. They both enter the tent, and Sebastian wastes no time in grabbing a book and flopping onto the bed. She opens her extendable bag so that she can prepare dinner. She disappears down the ladder, and soon, plates, wine stems, and silverware float through the air onto the table. A bottle of wine is next to fly up, followed by a bowl of French salad, a jar of vinaigrette, a loaf of steaming brown bread, and a butter dish. Sebastian’s nose is drawn to attention by the scent of roasted chicken, baked potatoes, and asparagus with a creamy sauce. He sits up and gawks as the platters glide through the air towards the table. Soon, his sweetheart reappears to tell him that dinner is served.

“You know, you never told me if I was right about your favorite season. Is it spring?” Sebastian asks, slicing the warm bread and spreading butter that melts almost instantly. 

“Oh!” Kate puts down her fork. “You’re right - we didn’t finish our conversation.” She pours herself a little more wine, topping off Sebastian’s glass as well. “You were initially correct - my favorite season is summer. But after your description, maybe it should be spring!” 

“This vinaigrette is delicious,” he remarks. Grinning, he takes another bite of his crisp and cool salad. “I guess I can understand why you love summer. No work.” 

“That’s exactly right,” she replies, sipping her wine. “It’s the best time of year. I get a break from Agnes and the students, and I can do whatever I like.” 

“So, then… What is your favorite holiday?” Sebastian asks, moving to carve the roasted chicken for them both.

“Christmas,” Kate answers quickly. “Definitely Christmas. I don’t like the cold, but I love spending time with my family. We have so many traditions. I bake biscuits with my family’s cook - gingerbread biscuits with sweet icing. My papa grows a fir tree every year just for the holiday, and my sister and I decorate it as soon as he cuts it down and brings it inside. My mum gives the best, most thoughtful gifts; I feel like I am pretty good at that, too. Maybe I got that trait from her,” she muses. 

Sebastian grins, placing a few cuts of chicken on her plate. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

Kate’s smile falters slightly at the comment, knowing that she is unlikely to approve of Sebastian, but she recovers quickly, moving on to a new topic. “And then… my entire extended family on my mum’s side - the Becketts - gathers for a huge party at our manor. My mamma, sister, and I decorate the ballroom with a new theme each year. Last year, the theme was peppermint. We had floating candy canes as props, and there were white and red lights all around the room. When we had dinner, we had a deep red tablecloth, with a red and white striped table runner. We placed a candy cane over each plate. It was so cute!” 

“I love Christmas, too,” Sebastian adds happily. “My parents always made it special for Anne and me. We never had a huge party - our family was small. Solomon would join us for the Yule dinner and then promptly leave after dessert. Afterwards, my parents would present us with our gifts - new books and clothes and always one particularly exciting item. Our last Christmas together was when we were nine. They gave us a set of Quidditch equipment and gear. My dad taught us the rules of the game during our last year together. He had been a Beater for Slytherin in his school days, and it was his wish for me to eventually become a Beater as well.” He pauses, his eyes shining. “Which I did. And Anne was a Chaser… until… well, you know.”

Sebastian distracts himself by cutting his chicken into manageable pieces. Kate knows better than to ask him to tell more when he has that look on his face. She gives him a moment to think and breathe.

“I’m trying to remember my favorite gift,” Kate finally says. “But I don’t know that I ever had a favorite, really. It was more about spending time with family for me than anything else. I always loved watching my parents exchange gifts with each other. You could always tell how much they loved each other. My mum would always give a new exotic plant to my papa. He would always pick out something luxurious for her like perfume or jewelry. Those are the kinds of things my mamma likes.” She pauses. “Christmas… I think I enjoy it so much because every activity is just… filled with family, togetherness, and love. And then afterwards, there is still joy - there's the promise of a new beginning on New Year’s Eve.”

It’s quiet for a moment as they continue to eat.

“Someday, I want to share all of that with you, Sebastian,” Kate murmurs. “We can make our own traditions.”

He nods. “I would like that, too, Kate. It’s been a long time since I was able to enjoy the Yule holiday. This year will be different. I can feel it.”

Both of their minds are swimming with thoughts of spending Christmas together this year - and beyond - as they finish their dinner. Kate enchants the dishes into cleaning themselves as she preserves what is left of the bread and chicken for sandwiches another day. For dessert, she brings out bread pudding with a saucer of butterscotch syrup, which she pours generously. 

Afterwards, they each select a book to read, laying side by side on the bed. Kate’s eyes grow more and more sleepy, and eventually she casts Divesto to disappear her clothing and slips under the covers. Sebastian does the same and casts a spell to darken the tent. He gently moves Kate closer. Practically asleep, she snuggles up to him. Her arm relaxes across his body, her head resting on his chest. For a long time, he listens to her steady breathing, waiting until she is undoubtedly asleep. Then, he kisses the top of her head.

“I love you, Kate Mayflower,” he whispers so quietly that there is no chance she will hear. “I’m going to marry you. I’m so in love with you, sunshine.”

Sebastian’s eyes begin to close. The comfortable feeling of her body against his calms him, her skin soft and warm. 

A moment later, Kate begins to lightly snore, and a smile grows on his face as he opens one eye to glance at her in amusement. Then, he finally falls asleep a few minutes later.

The next morning, Sebastian wakes up first, feeling Kate stir shortly after he opens his eyes. He is curled up against her back, clinging to her.

“Good morning, my love,” he whispers in her ear, then kisses her cheek lightly.

“G’morning,” Kate replies in a voice still laced with sleep. 

Sebastian kisses his way down her neck to her shoulder, his morning wood pressed against her arse. Because Kate had complained of soreness the other day, he decides not to push his luck. He’ll let her lead when she’s ready. She turns around to face him and leans in close to kiss his lips slowly and languidly. He softly moans into her mouth as her hand teasingly runs over his cock in a featherlight touch. Before long, Kate’s hand wraps completely around him, and later, her mouth takes over until his seed spills down her throat. 

Afterwards, Sebastian is treated to a ham and vegetable quiche, baked pears, apple cider, and toast with butter, cinnamon, and sugar. His girlfriend takes care of it all, clad only in one of his collared, button-down shirts, and he begins to wonder what in Merlin’s name he has done to warrant being served like a king. 

“Seb… wait!” Kate cries out after taking just one step out of the tent. She stands in place, looking warily at him and then the river at the end of the path ahead. “What… what if someone sees us?”

Sebastian stops, turning around with a grin. He makes his way back towards Kate. “They won’t. No one comes here, my sun. I’ve done my research. Trust me.” He takes her hands in his. Gods, my shirt looks good on her. “We wouldn’t be making this journey towards the castle, in general, if this area was well-traveled. There would be no point in looking for artifacts and valuables in a place that has already been raided by countless people. This part of the Highlands is warded off to muggles in the same way that Hogwarts is. It’s part of Blackfold Castle’s magic.”

Kate nods, pulling Sebastian’s shirt down as far as it will go. It’s like a short dress on her. “Alright. I trust you, my moon. I’m just a little nervous. I’ve never done this - entered a body of water without clothes on, I mean.”

“Well, there will be no other opportunity to bathe, sweetheart,” Sebastian explains, guiding her forward, “At least, not until we arrive back home days from now. You’ll just have to be a little brave. Remember, I’ll be with you. It’s safe. And, besides, the sun has barely risen…”

“True,” Kate acknowledges as they begin walking together. It’s quite early still. She adjusts the bag slung across her body, carrying towels, soap, and shampoo. “I don’t think I could bear to not bathe for that long. And… for that matter, you shouldn’t either.” She plugs her nose, waving her hand around, and giggles.

“Oh, come on,” Sebastian laughs. “You know you love my natural scent.”

“Not after two days of hiking,” Kate muttered, cackling.

Sebastian smiles, continuing to guide her towards the river. Both the sun and moon are visible at this early hour. 

“It’s rather cold out,” Kate notes unhappily. “I can only imagine how unbearably frigid the water might feel...” 

“Yes,” Sebastian replies. “But we can use warming charms to make the temperature more comfortable.”

They reach the riverbank. Kate stares as Sebastian nonchalantly removes his tunic and trousers, fully nude with his eyes on her. Noticing Kate’s hesitation, he steps towards her. “It’ll be okay. I’m with you. I’ll help you get warm.” He begins to work at her buttons, and when finished, gently slides the shirt off of her shoulders and arms. Kate’s nipples harden in the cool air. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her in close, his hands resting just above the curves of her bottom.

Letting her go after a moment, Sebastian grabs his wand from the pile of discarded clothing and casts a warming charm. Kate feels the air all around them heat up to a comfortable temperature. Following Sebastian, she cautiously dips a toe into the crystal clear water. Her brows rising, she looks at him in confusion, as the river itself feels like bathwater. He observes her in amusement as she moves forward without any further hesitation.

“It’s a charm intended to heat a certain radius around us. If we stay close together, it’ll be warm for us both,” he explains as he wades into waist-deep water.

“I’ve never heard of a spell quite like that,” she responds in amazement, following him. “You’ll have to teach me. That would really come in handy in winter.”

He gives her a lopsided smile, reaching out his hand so that they can move together towards deeper water. Kate grins brightly in return, accepting it. A moment later, they step forward and almost instantly disappear under water, the bottom dropping out unexpectedly. Gasping, they both reemerge, splashing around. Kate dips back underwater over her own volition, smoothing her hair back and then coming back up to tread water with Sebastian. She begins laughing, and soon, he does, too. 

“Maybe let’s swim a little further? Maybe there’s somewhere we can comfortably stand,” Kate suggests. 

Before Sebastian can so much as nod, Kate begins swimming away, using a backstroke. “Catch me if you can!”

Sebastian chuckles and takes off after her, but she’s surprisingly fast. He remembers her stories of swimming in the lake near her childhood home and quickly realizes he has an actual challenge on his hands. By the time he comes anywhere close to her, they have traveled a significant way away from where they began and seem to be in a densely forested area. Huge, ancient trees line the river, some roots exposed and underwater. 

Finally, Sebastian grabs onto Kate’s foot, and she screeches playfully as she is dragged out of position. He is finally able to find solid footing and pulls her directly to him.

“Got you!” Sebastian yells to Kate’s giggles as he draws her body flush against his. “You’ve fallen into my trap. You can’t escape me now!”

Gazing upon each other quietly for a moment, Kate’s heart drums. “That’s fine… I wanted you to catch me,” she admits. With care, she reaches up to push Sebastian’s bangs out of his face, and he leans in to kiss her. 

Their lips meet, gently at first. Her hands join at the back of his neck, her breasts pressing against his chest. Sebastian’s fingers explore the curves of her hips as he deepens the kiss. Her tongue runs along his lower lip, requesting entry, and soon, it dances with his. Kate sighs with contentment as his hand glides past her hips to her arse, squeezing. Out of breath, she pulls back, only for Sebastian to chase her mouth once more. His desire could not be more obvious as he grinds against her. She moans into his mouth. His breathing deepens as one of his hands reaches up to cup a breast, running his index finger over her nipple.

“Seb… Sebastian…” Kate chokes out.

He kisses her feverishly as she hops up, wrapping her legs around his waist, trying to satisfy her own need for friction. 

“I want you… so badly…” she whines as he begins to kiss down her neck. He sucks and bites, leaving bruises in his wake as she gasps and arches her back. “I l-love you, Sebastian…”

“Kate… I love you… I want you… I want you more than I’ve wanted anyone… I swear it…” he responds breathily. “Are you sure… you’re up to this?” He opens his eyes to sincerely gauge her reaction.

“Gods, yes,” Kate assures him, thankful he checked in first. “Please don’t make me wait…” She tightens her legs around his waist and pushes herself against his arousal, moving up and down along his thick length as he groans in need. He slips a hand between them, using his finger to massage her clit. 

“I’m ready - I swear - I’m ready, my love…” she insists, her lips against his neck. “Are you sure we’re really hidden?” 

“Yes, I swear,” he rasps as Kate tears her face away to examine their surroundings. 

She notices the tree roots growing outside of the soil, the ones that plunge into the river’s depths. She leans backwards, her legs still tight around Sebastian’s hips, to grasp at the roots. She tests their strength and puts half of her weight into her grip. Her breasts are now on full display as Sebastian guides his needy cock towards her core. With his eyes on her face, he slowly enters her, centimeter by tight centimeter.

“Fuck,” he whispers, fully sheathed. “Oh, fuck…” 

Without any hesitation, without giving her a chance to adjust, he begins to thrust into her. His face contorts in pleasure as he achieves a steady pace, taking satisfaction in her whimpering. When Sebastian opens his eyes once more, his view is that of a -

“Goddess,” he gasps. “You’re a goddess. So fucking beautiful…”

Her arms are outstretched behind her, holding on desperately to the tree roots. As he pounds into her repeatedly, her mouth falls open, her breasts bounce, and the water splashes around them. She cries out as his thrusts become harder, faster. 

“Bash,” she moans. “I love you, Bash…”

His cheeks are tinged red with exertion as her noises become louder and louder, the splashes increasing in size. His gaze focuses on her face as his grip on her bottom becomes more firm; he can plunge deeper than before. Her wailing practically reaches the level of shouts. 

“Please,” she begs. “More… I’m so close. I’m so close…”

Gritting his teeth, he slams into her, channeling all of his energy into his frantic thrusts. He can feel himself coming undone as her walls tighten around him. She screams his name as she finally lets go. Her vision of his face and strong physique goes white; she shudders and moans. Sebastian doesn’t hold back anymore. He spills deep inside of her with a grunt, trembling as he holds himself in place, totally bottomed out as the last of his cum spurts out. 

They both pant as they revel in the aftershocks of lovemaking. Kate slowly lets go of the tree roots and brings her hands back to Sebastian’s shoulders, her muscles burning with exertion. Her face very close to his, she kisses each of his cheeks, then his neck. Finally, she presses her lips to his slowly, with all of her adoration.

“I love you,” Kate whispers in his ear as her hands run up and down his scarred back. “Sebastian, I love you. Please don’t ever leave me. I couldn’t take it.”

“Neither could I,” he replied softly, his hand in her wet hair. “I love you, Kate, more than you know. You’re everything to me. Everything.” 

Sebastian adds two more pieces of firewood to the stove and then returns to Kate, spread out naked on the floor, nestled among a pile of blankets and pillows. He lays down next to her, taking her in his arms again and swinging her body back on top of his. They kiss in an unhurried fashion, lazy after another round of intimacy.

Sebastian looks at her as though she is a deity. His eyes are filled with tenderness and so much love. “Kate,” he begins softly. “Can… can I speak freely to you?”

Her gaze is filled with trust as she listens attentively. “Of course, my love.” 

He smiles. “I know I tell you I love you all the time. I just… I want you to know how much I mean it.” His fingers reach out to brush some of her floral-scented hair, still drying, behind her ear. “Kate… My whole life, I’ve never thought much of love. In Azkaban, there was nothing for me to do but simply survive, and afterward, I never dreamed I would find someone like you. I never thought I would find a woman who might accept me for who I am, despite my past and all of my flaws. But yet… here you are, in my arms, making love to me, making me dream again of an actual future. You make me want to be a better man, and I promise you - I will be. I want to be the man you deserve. I want to make your dreams come true. I want to marry you and have a family with you. You’re my sun. My sun. I don’t want a life without you. I know we haven’t been together long, and I don’t want to scare you, but I feel it so intensely now - I don’t think I could survive a life without you. I love you.” He kisses her cheek, whispering. “I love you.” A kiss to her other cheek. “I love you.” He presses his lips to hers, a tear falling from his eye.

Kate brushes his tear away. “I love you, Sebastian. I mean it. I love you so much. There is no one for me but you. You’re my future. We were meant to meet, to find each other. You are my destiny. I know it. I know it.” She kisses him deeply. “I never thought I would feel love like this. In truth, before I met you, I had begun to give up on it entirely. Sebastian, you make me so happy. You’re the moon to my sun. The world just wouldn’t work without us together.” 

Sebastian holds her as tightly as he can, kissing her hair, her nose, her chin, her lips again.

“I will follow you anywhere, my love,” Kate whispers. “I can’t wait to explore the world with you.”

“And today, we’ll really begin to explore,” he replies. “Our first destination is only a few hours’ hike from here. It will be a difficult trek, Kate, but I’ll be with you the entire way. By the afternoon, we’ll search the first cave. Perhaps we shall find some treasure there.” He kisses her cheek again, and his voice deepens with sincerity. “But, to me, Kate, you are the greatest treasure I’ll ever find. No riches, no magical artifacts from time gone by could ever compare to you.” He kisses her hand. “Now, my love, it’s time for us to pack up and go. Let’s explore.”

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian sallow x oc #post azkaban sebastian #hufflepuff x slytherin #aged up sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy oc #hl oc #hl sebastian #hogwarts legacy romance #hogwarts legacy smut #hl smut #Sebastian sallow smut

[scoops-aboy86]

You know what, here’s the next part. Nothing in moderation. Gets a little juicer now that Eddie’s already on his second meal of the day.

🔞 Seven Christmases pt. 2

Part 1

The Wheelers (999 words)

rated: T | cw: ted wheeler being boring | tags: chubby eddie, established relationship, weight gain, belly kink, stuffing, steve has a praise kink, fluff, they’re in love, found family

Next is Robin’s dorm, to pick up her and Vickie. They all pile into Steve’s car, the trunk stuffed with presents and the back seat crammed with food. 

“Did you have to bring so many damn cookies?” Robin complains from under a stack of tins as they pull out of the dorm building parking lot. 

“Yep,” Steve replies without hesitation. “One tin for each of the kids, one for each of you, Jonathan, Nancy, Argyle…”

“Thanks Steve,” Vicki says. Eddie likes her, she’s sweet. Shows proper respect to Steve’s amazing baking skills.

There are several tins for Eddie, but only one in the front seat for the drive so he doesn’t spoil his appetite. Despite the large breakfast he’s already had, he’s nowhere near at his limit; fresh crumbs already dust his lap. 

Their first stop when they reach Hawkins is to drop their passengers off at Vickie’s parents’ house, then it’s on to the Wheeler home. Nancy greets them at the door, Jonathan not far behind, and the reunion of the four of them is hectic and boisterous. Cookie tins are juggled around to make sure the right one goes to the right person, and brightly wrapped packages make their way from the car to under the tree. Eddie is grateful, after all that carrying, to shrug off his jacket and sink into a section of the living room couch. He wraps his hands around a mug of Karen Wheeler’s amazing hot chocolate—made from actual tempered chocolate instead of a powdered mix, special for Christmas—with a happy sigh. 

Brunch is a spread of pancakes and French toast with some sort of cream cheese cinnamon sauce, more bacon and eggs, fruit salad drowning in custard, and a few extra loaves of Steve’s breakfast breads. Eddie heaps food on his plate twice and thanks Steve every time his attentive boyfriend refills his hot chocolate mug or glass of orange juice to wash it all down with. 

Steve keeps watching him out of the corner of one eye, a little in awe of the pace his boyfriend is keeping. Even after one massive breakfast, Eddie has barely slowed down, and Steve can’t help slipping a hand onto his knee under the table and slowly, casually letting it drift up. 

Of course Eddie knows what he’s doing, even if no one else does, and subtly spreads his legs a little. Steve encounters his belly sooner than even he expected, shifting to explore the swell of it from the side with the back of his hand. The stretchy pants, so far, seem up to the task of containing the bottomless pit that he’s dating, living with, head over fucking heels for—and Eddie, the tease, presses subtly into the touch like a cat prepared to purr. 

He does not try to slip an exploratory finger in between the waistband and Eddie’s plush middle, because he’s not allowed to start unwrapping early. As much as Eddie seems to want him to, from the heated glances he keeps sending over every time he brings another forkful to his lips, they both know that afterwards he wouldn’t be able to help teasing Steve for not being able to stay patient. To be a good boy.

So Steve takes his hand back, moving it to his own lap and tuning into something Mr. Wheeler is saying about snow shovels and the sub-par salt that Hawkins is using on the winter roads these days. It’s mind-numbing, but thankfully enough to wilt his ill-timed boner by the time they all relocate to sit around the tree. 

Holly loves the presents they got her, shrieking happily and thanking her “basically-cousins” with every reveal. Karen smiles over the books they got her, blushing at the few seemingly innocuous titles mixed in there with a byline of a well known (in certain circles) romance erotica writer. Even Ted is left oohing and ahhing over his new humidifier—extra quiet, which Karen practically has tears of gratitude in her eyes over. 

“See you at my house at seven, yeah?” Jonathan asks them on their way out. 

Steve frowns a bit at that. “I thought Joyce said six thirty.”

Jonathan shrugs. “She always runs at least a half hour behind when she cooks. You can still come then, but I know you guys have a packed schedule today, so. If you’re running late, don’t sweat it.”

Before he can reply, Steve feels Eddie bump up against his side, letting it look like an accidental collision by the front door just in case Nancy’s parents are watching. It’s not just that, because Eddie is a menace—he presses. Revenge for feeling him up at the table, probably. 

“Oh, don't worry about us,” Eddie says with a smirk. “I’ve got plenty of party favors for taking the edge off of the holiday stress, no sweating required.”

He says it all while Steve’s brain is busy buzzing at the tantalizing contact with his boyfriend’s sheer r bulk. When they’d first met, Eddie had always run cold. Even colder, the night he’d almost died… But Steve never has to worry about that now. All he has to do to for proof that Eddie’s alive is get close, feel it radiate off of him, move in close enough to sink against the solid heat of his body and—

“Come on, big boy, We don’t want to be late for our next stop,” Eddie teases, looping his arm with Steve’s to tug him outside. With their backs still to the house and no neighbors visible up and down the street, he rests a hand on his stomach, tilts his head to look up at Steve through his eyelashes, and pointedly licks his lips. “And I might just be in the mood for another cookie or two as a palate cleanser.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve moans under his breath, opening the passenger door for Eddie and trying to focus on winter road conditions instead of the way he grunts and huffs while settling himself inside. 

Part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

#wg steddie #chubby eddie munson #scoops words #steddie #with a dash of jancy #chaser steve harrington #christmas steddie #scoops - do not unwrap fic

[rgr-pop]

meal plan text asmr

i normally have breakfast at work because of my proton pump inhibitor. tomorrow i wfh the morning to do a training so i’ll be having sesame toast with a boiled egg, feta, and whatever pickle and veg looks good. then for the rest of the week’s breakfasts i have one yogurt (lucas found me the icelandic coffee yogurt!!) and friday morning tbh, probably the last of my ezekiel toast with communal work peanut butter unless i pick up cottage cheese/yogurt. today i worked remotely at a coffee shop and i grabbed a bad scone, RIP. (adding to shopping list: ezekiel bread, greek yogurt, cottage cheese, bananas, the icelandic coffee yogurt but that’s only at whole foods.)

at work right now i’ve been having paramount (local brand) k cups that corey gifted me. i got him a gift card for the new downtown coffee shop so he can grab it between his bus job (he herds teenagers for the school public bus program. his real title is abussador :)) and he got me k cups for my work. i froth half and half to dress up the k cup, and my coworker brought in half and half she needs used up, so i don’t need to bring mine. (another week before i have to buy more.) i hate using the disposables and am considering literally committing to work french press like an absolute psycho—i just can’t get myself enough time before work to make and bring it from home and the refillable k cups will do but are gross. if you have to survive a keurig at work i recommend nasty refillables + steaming and frothing milk. i have half a bag of not great beans at home. I’ve been spending more on nicer beans for home and it has been worth it, but I am still not quite sure what I like. (on shopping list: coffee beans, decaf beans for winter evening treats.)

came home with a coffee shop noise pollution migraine and made myself cheese ramen with cilantro, sesame seeds, green onion, and a side of this week’s pickled carrot slaw. ramen made two servings for me. it was the last of my shin black and third to last slice of ramen cheese. my cilantro will last another weekend and i have at least week’s worth of parsley and green onions. (adding to the shopping list: shin black, cheese singles, frozen corn, and since i’m thinking about it, shredded mozz for buldak/corn cheese.)

for lunches wednesday-friday i will have dumplings from the freezer (the ones i made and some other ones i have), leftover ramen, and a carrot and cucumber salad (my last two fresh salad vegetables, but i will probably wait out purchasing more). to prep tonight: jar of dumpling sauce, salad. (dumplings are already on my shopping list when i see some that look good. adding dumpling wrappers—making and freezing them was so worth it, but i felt like making the dough wasn’t.)

complicating factor: i should make myself something sweet to keep me out of the vending machines at work. at home i’ve been having what i believe to be yaourti me meli (greek yogurt, walnuts, honey, cinnamon?) but i’m out. i’d like to make a second french yogurt cake to compare it to the other recipe, but again, out. i would also also like to make a coffee cake type food for someone coming over saturday afternoon. do i make a little loaf cake with what i have tonight to get me through the week and then a second thing then? do i have friday plans? if i bake a little quick bread or pound cake for myself tonight it will really cut down on my food ruminations. (adding to shopping list: greek yogurt, walnuts, honey, dried fruit, butter.. baking supplies need inventorying but i’m almost sure i have enough of the basics.)

what am i having for dinners? i need to minimize the chance that i spend any non-grocery money before next week—i will be having a crazy week and likely blowing money i don’t have. tonight i’m having leftover cannellini beans cacio e pepe (‼️ make this ‼️). i have enough beans (although running low) to continue having beans meals, but i really really really desire to put my beans meals on potatoes. (‼️ fusion jacket potatoes ‼️ make this ‼️). matias made these perfect black beans with pork and salsa verde and it’s all i can think about. can i pull this off with freezer bacon… i have enough of a serrano to get me through. (adding to shopping list: russet potatoes, garlic, sour cream, avocado, cheap canned black beans, decent looking dried black beans, slightly nice italian brand butter beans and cannellini beans, bell pepper, tomatillos, tomatoes, mexican oregano, sweet potato, pork?? i will put this on my list but never buy it.)

i would also like to make salmon rice bowls with avocado, pickled veg/carrot slaw, cucumbers, etc. to use up my freezer salmon. i would prefer to wait to do this til i’m keeping salad greens (leftover salmon for salads is key for a working woman…)

in two weeks i will make something for a certain someone’s birthday and batch up some granola. i’ve been wanting to try making coffee granola. i also have to make a lasagna before the end of winter this year or i must be executed.

what i’m bringing to work tomorrow for the rest of the week: salad, bags of dumplings, ramen, cilantro (packed separately), one boiled egg, one yogurt, dumpling sauce and any other condiments that look good, and a sweet if i can pull it off.

the question i can only answer for myself tomorrow at 4pm: am i going to the grocery store?

#grocery influencing #food

[heart-of-gold-outlaw]

Ace High (Ineffable Husbands Yeehawgust)

Playing matchmaker to two outlaws wasn't how Aziraphale had imagined spending his time in America. Pretending to court Crowley hadn't really crossed his mind, either.

Falling in love with him? That definitely wasn't part of the plan.

June, 1889

As a general rule, Aziraphale tended to avoid America. It was a very young country, and as such, had a lot of growing up to do. The people, especially out here in the "Wild West" as they called it, weren't the nicest bunch. Aziraphale had dealt with his fair share of ruffians and vagabonds and other undesirables—God knows the French had plenty of those. But there was something... different about America's breed of troublemaker. Quite a few of them had a penchant for murder, and while Aziraphale could excuse the occasional white lie or stolen loaf of bread, he drew the line at murder. 

But Head Office said there was a minor miracle to perform in America—something about a total solar eclipse. Aziraphale didn't particularly see why that mattered, but he'd done it... Well, rather, Crowley had done it, having lost the coin toss. They'd gone for a lovely lunch afterward: a remarkable little Spanish cafe in San Luis Obispo. Aziraphale quite liked Hispanic cuisine. The spices were absolutely to die for. It never ceased to amaze him, the creative things humans did with food, and he supposed that the Americas could have bragging rights for that. 

Crowley had returned to Soho, as far as Aziraphale knew, with the intent of sleeping for at least a year. Aziraphale, though, wanted to see some of what this young little country had to offer. The murder and crime, he could ignore in exchange for the amazing landscape paintings and wonderful natural scenery. As such, he found himself in Colorado, in a small mountain town called Telluride. The Rockies were beautiful this time of year. Colorado in general, Aziraphale was quickly learning, was just a beautiful state, and he was quite fortunate to be able to see it.

He'd just had lunch at a tavern (rather, a saloon, as they were called here), and was enjoying a stroll down the main drag, when he accidentally bumped shoulders with a man walking in a hurry in the opposite direction. Aziraphale stumbled, threw out his arms to catch himself, and probably would have face-planted into the dirt had the stranger not reached out and hauled him upright. 

"Good heavens, my dear fellow!" Aziraphale exclaimed as he petulantly straightened his coat. "That was quite a catch!"

The stranger looked at him apologetically. He was a tall man, at least a head taller than Aziraphale, with broad shoulders and a strong frame. He wore a buckskin jacket and a gambler hat, underneath which flaxen blond hair stuck to his forehead in the summer humidity. 

"Sorry about that," he said. "Didn't mean to mow you over there." He leaned back and shoved his hands in his pockets. "You okay?"

Aziraphale brushed away some dust on his arm. That was the thing about the West: it was absolutely filthy.  

"Nothing a miracle won't fix," he said, then, catching himself, changed the subject: "What on earth has got you in such a hurry?" 

The stranger looked relieved to see Aziraphale wasn't hurt. He shook his head, blinked, and glanced across the street. Aziraphale looked too, but aside from the saloon and the bank, didn't see anything. 

"I'm s'posed to be meetin' someone here pretty soon," the stranger said, sounding relieved. "Thought I was gonna be late."

"Oh?" Aziraphale couldn't help but be intrigued. "Friend of yours?"

The stranger, who Aziraphale realized was really quite young, maybe in his early twenties, looked down with a smile. The tips of his ears were red.

"Something like that," he said. "We ain't seen each other for a while, so I ain't sure he's even gonna show."

Aziraphale thought of Crowley, then, how the demon always managed to show up whenever Aziraphale was in need of some company—or some rescuing. Although the solar eclipse hadn't exactly been dangerous, it had been nice to share the experience with someone else. He remembered the look of concentration on Crowley's face as he snapped his fingers and pointed at the sun, calling the moon to pass in front of it. He remembered how their shadows had danced together, how beautiful the sky looked in between day and night. There was quite a bit of beauty in darkness, he'd realized. Quite a bit indeed. 

"Oh don't worry," Aziraphale assured. "Friends have a funny way of showing up at just the opportune time." 

The young man smiled, seeming relieved. He held out a hand for Aziraphale to shake.

"The name's Roy," he said, "but I go by Butch." 

"Well, that's rather unusual," Aziraphale said, but shook his hand anyway. "Then again, what's in a name? I'm... Ezra." He tried not to look too guilty at the pause. "Ezra Fell. I run a bookshop in London."

Butch laughed, loud and friendly, and leaned against a hitching post for support. Aziraphale watched him for a moment, confused, before the young man straightened with a few residual chuckles.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, still grinning from ear to ear. "It's just... you look like you run a bookshop. No offense." 

Aziraphale brightened at the compliment. "None taken, my dear fellow."

Before he could say anything else, Butch looked over Aziraphale's shoulder and promptly seemed to forget he was there. There was a look on his face, now, like he'd just watched the world's grandest play, or, perhaps, seen a solar eclipse. Aziraphale turned around to follow his gaze. Across the street, a rather sullen-looking young man leaned against the wall of the saloon. He had dark, straight hair that had clearly been flattened by his hat, which he gripped with both of his hands. He was slender and wore a black jacket that did little to keep the dust at bay. And despite the looks from a couple of the saloon girls, he seemed to be waiting for someone. 

"Now see, I told you he would show," Aziraphale said to Butch. He turned back to face him, only to find that he was walking away... in the opposite direction of his friend. "Hey—wait!"

Aziraphale hurriedly chased after him, having to half-jog to keep up with his long strides. Butch kept his hands firmly shoved in his pockets and didn't look at Aziraphale once.

"Now just where do you think you're going?" Aziraphale demanded, already slightly out of breath.

Butch shook his head, eyes intently focused on the ground in front of him. "This weren't a good idea." 

"Not a good idea?" Aziraphale was thoroughly confused. "But... you were the one who wanted to see him in the first place! And now you're just going to... let him stand there?"

Stopping so abruptly that Aziraphale nearly ran into him again, Butch whirled around and threw his hands up in exasperation. 

"Look pardner," he said. "I ain't gonna get into this right now with you. Just trust me when I say that this weren't a good idea, okay?" He ran a hand through is hair, tugged at it, then let out a deflated sigh. "Now I'm goin' home."

Aziraphale opened his mouth to protest, but Butch was already walking away, and at a much faster pace this time. A few seconds later, he'd disappeared down the street. Aziraphale knew he had no hope of catching up to him, not without running, and he didn't particularly feel like doing that at the moment. 

He got himself out of the middle of the street and sat heavily on a bench outside the bank. It didn't make sense in his head, Butch's behavior, and it most certainly didn't sit right with him to let his friend stand by the saloon all by himself. Butch had seemed so excited—and so nervous. Why in Heaven's name had he seemed so nervous? It was almost the way teenagers behaved when they were in—

Oh.

Oh dear. That made quite a bit more sense. 

Aziraphale wasn't stupid. He knew the world's current, rather barbaric stance on such things. He also knew, though, how precious of a thing love was, how people who weren't supposed to fall for each other tended to do so anyways, in spite of the danger. It was humanity's greatest gift. Perhaps Heaven and Hell could learn a thing or two...

Best not to think about that, he quickly decided. Even still, he knew what he needed to do. Heaven would probably think he was wasting his time, helping out humans when there were no orders from his superiors, but the way Aziraphale saw it, he was fulfilling his most basic duties as an angel: doing good.

He rose from the bench and walked quickly to the saloon. Butch's friend was still waiting, looking more sullen than before, and he eyed Aziraphale with the same distrustful look he gave everyone who walked by. Aziraphale smiled at him and gave a little wave.

"Ah yes, hello," he said. "You appear to be waiting for someone."

The young man frowned. "What's it to you?"

Aziraphale smiled again. Gotcha.  

"If you're waiting for Butch," he said, watching with delight the way the young man's face brightened ever-so-slightly, "he sends his most sincere apologies, but he can't make it today. Something about..." Aziraphale looked around quickly, and his eyes fell on a mail courier delivering packages across the street. "Something about delivering medicine to a sick family in need. You know how he loves to help people."

It was a gamble, but Aziraphale considered himself a decent judge of character, and Butch had seemed nice enough. The young man looked like he was considering this, then rolled his eyes. 

"That sounds like him alright." Then, hiding his disappointment well: "... Did he say anything else?"

"Oh yes!" Aziraphale said, nodding enthusiastically. "He said that since he can't make it today, he'd love to reschedule for tomorrow night. He'll let you know the time and place vis a vis letter. Now, where exactly are you staying?"

The young man blinked, caught off guard. "Um," he looked decidedly confused. "Golden Creek Hotel. It's..." He gestured around the block. "Right over that way."

"Marvelous!" Aziraphale smiled his most winning smile. "Well, he'll be in touch. Might I know your name, dear fellow, just in case anything pops up?"

"It's..." The young man bit his chapped lips. "Well, just call me Sundance."

Aziraphale held out his hand as if that wasn't a strange name. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm Ezra Fell. I run a bookshop in London."

The young man let out a brief chuckle and shook his head. Then, shaking Aziraphale's hand: "You look like you run a bookshop."

Lighting up at the second round of the compliment, Aziraphale sent him on his way. It was only then that he realized just how in over his head he was. For Heaven's sake! He wasn't a matchmaker. He didn't know the first thing about courting someone, let alone getting two people to court each other. And now he had two hopelessly in-love young men who needed him for guidance. Him!  

"Oh dear," Aziraphale said to himself. "I do believe this is a bit of a mess."

But there was one person he trusted to always help him out of a mess, no matter the stakes. After all, getting Aziraphale out of trouble was sort of a favorite pastime of Crowley's. It hadn't even been a week since Aziraphale had seen him, but somehow, he knew the demon would be up to the challenge. 

As it turned out, Crowley hadn't gone back to Soho. He was in Denver, in fact, when Aziraphale found him, having a drink at a local brewery. Aziraphale didn't much care for beer. He preferred wine or sherry, something that was a little less... gross. Not that all beer was terrible, but he supposed it would be years before the Americans caught up with the Belgians in terms of brewing. 

Crowley didn't look surprised to see him. Then again, he rarely did. He wore a long black duster tonight that nearly reached the floor, and it would have looked ridiculous if it wasn't currently in style. He was sitting at the bar, swirling his beer rather than drinking it, and he glanced over at Aziraphale when he took a seat next to him.

"Right," Crowley said, setting his glass aside. "What have you done now?"

Aziraphale tried not to look guilty. "Why on earth would you assume I've done something?"

"Because I know the faces you make." Crowley reached for his beer and drained half the glass in one go. "This is your I've Done Something face."

"But that's preposterous!" Aziraphale said indignantly. "I'll have you know that I haven't done a single thing."

Crowley raised his eyebrows, the first hint of a smile on his lips. He watched Aziraphale for a few seconds, leaning back on the bar stool, waiting for the angel to crack. 

"Oh," Azirphale said as his shoulders slumped. "Fine! I did something. Happy now?"

"Extraordinarily." Crowley signaled the bartender, an older gentleman who looked like he hated his job, and ordered a round for the two of them. Then, noticing the way Aziraphale wrinkled his nose: "Oh come on. It's not that bad."

"For you, maybe." Aziraphale hesitated when the bartender handed him his glass. He took a small sip and tried not to make a face until the bartender's back was turned. 

Crowley, whose glass was already half empty, inclined his head to one side. "So what is it that you've done?"

Aziraphale sighed and dropped his face into his hands. How in Heaven's name was he supposed to explain himself? It wasn't his job to play matchmaker among humans. There was nothing in the Almighty's plan about that. And yet, he couldn't just sit by and watch two perfectly good men squander what could be their only chance at love in a harsh, harsh world. No, he had people counting on him now, and he couldn't let them down. He wouldn't.

"I might have..." He began, trailed off, then continued a little stronger: "I might have told a young man that the... object of his affection, as far as I can tell, is going to meet him for dinner tomorrow night. The problem is, said object of affection has no intention of doing so."

Crowley groaned. "Unrequited love. Sounds like a him problem."

"No no," Aziraphale corrected. "They're absolutely head over heels for each other. Butch is just very, very nervous. I don't think he's ever, well, courted someone before. I don't think either of them have."

Crowley rolled his eyes and reached for his drink. He didn't look particularly excited about the situation.

"So what are you suggesting, Angel?" He asked. "Because if you're going to ask me to help you play matchmaker, the answer is—"

"Oh come on!" Aziraphale interrupted. "You love meddling with humans! These two are practically begging for it, for goodness sake!"

He gave the demon his best pleading look, the one he knew, for whatever reason, always made Crowley cave. Crowley considered him for a moment, expression unreadable behind his dark glasses, before he finally turned away with a scowl.

"Fine!" He hissed, rubbing his temples with his fingers. "What do you suggest we do?"

Aziraphale smiled gratefully. That had been rather easy. 

"Well," he admitted, "that's actually where I'm a bit stuck..."

Crowley threw his head back and groaned, then turned to face Aziraphale, who shrugged sheepishly.

"You mean to tell me," Crowley said, "that you don't even have a plan?" 

"Well..." Aziraphale, remembering what usually happened whenever he had a spur of the moment idea, bit his lip. "Maybe not as such. But I did get Sundance to agree to dinner! Butch just... doesn't know he's going yet."

Sighing heavily, Crowley swirled the last of the beer in his glass. He looked thoughtful. Then, when Aziraphale was about to offer a penny, said: "Why don't we each take one and, I don't know, shadow them or something? Act as their wingman. That way when the time comes for the dinner, we can be there to make sure nothing goes wrong." 

Aziraphale considered this. While it wasn't the most complicated idea in the world, it was pretty foolproof. He would take one, Crowley would take the other, and together, they'd make sure the two men realized just how much they meant to one another. 

"That could work," Aziraphale said, "but what if they see us conspiring? We need some sort of excuse, just in case we're seen together."

"The two of you could pretend to court one another," the bartender said as he polished a glass behind the counter. "I did that with my friend, once, to make my partner jealous. Worked like a charm."

Crowley glared at him. "How long have you been listening?"

"No no!" Aziraphale exclaimed and excitedly gripped Crowley's arm. "That's perfect! That way, they won't get suspicious if they see us being, well, us."

"Angel..." Crowley sounded uncertain. "I don't know if this is—"

Aziraphale was hardly listening to him. "Right. Which one do you want to shadow?"

For a long while, Crowley didn't say anything. He just stared first at Aziraphale, then at his glass of beer, which now held only the dregs. Eventually, though, he heaved a deep, heavy sigh, and tilted his head back.

"What are they like?" He asked, resigned. 

Aziraphale beamed at him. "Butch is really quite friendly. And Sundance is... well, rather moody." 

"That one." Crowley said immediately. "I'll take the moody one." 

Trying not to look too relieved, Aziraphale smiled at him and got up from the bar. Dropping some money, plus a decent chunk of change for a tip on the counter, he gently grabbed Crowley by the arm and pulled him toward the door. They had quite a bit of planning to do if they were going to make this work. 

"We're gathering together a right posse!" He exclaimed on their way out the door. "I never thought I'd be excited about something like that."

Crowley gave him a look. "You do know that posses hunt people down, right? Not play matchmaker."

"Well, I suppose we can take some liberties with the word." Aziraphale turned to face him with a wide grin. "I'll see you in Telluride, my dear fellow."

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #cowboys #yeehawgust #yeehawgust 2023 #fic writing #my fic #fanfic #western #wild west #gay cowboy

[bisonaari]

Hi! I'm Bison (she/her but I'll take any pronoun really)

For my Jukka tag, follow the duck 🦆

For my art tag, click here!

For my learning finnish tag, bison learns finnish

For Käärijä fanzine info (until I make actual social media for it), please check my fanzine tag!

OFFICIAL ZINE BLOG IS @kaarijazineofficial

Current stage of fanzine developpment: Production

Next step: shipping

About me under the cut!

I'm Bison, but my usual username on other social media is Crevettola! (That'll teach me a lesson about making a username five seconds before going to bed lol). My first name would be Eléa !

I'm 31 years old, Canadian/Belgian/French citizen (yes)

I work in the animation industry :) I'm a 2D rigging artist (I make lil cartoon puppets that I don't neither draw myself nor animate myself lmao, I'm just in an organigram and hierarchy software all day)

Mini teeny tiny faq:

@i-wasnt-ready-for-this asked about my art journey:

Oh boy hahaha. So I'm a multicrafter kind of person. I embroider (cross stitch), sew, knit, crochet, and plenty other stuff. When I don't draw, I usually do one of those.

I've always made art since I was a little kid, I made comics, tried to join zines when I was a teen (that didn't work out but I still have the pages somewhere lol), and then my mom asked me to stop art to go into science. So I stopped drawing for 6 years, then fell into Undertale and started drawing fanart like there was no tomorrow and joined animation school for 3 years. (If you're curious you can watch my thesis film here, but be warned, all of it was done by myself so that's why the animation sucks ass lmao. I gave all my focus to rigging to land a job in this area of the industry. Which I did, thanks to this film!!!) That school burnt the living hell out of me and gave me hand injuries, so I can't draw trad anymore or even write more than two minutes without having to stop because of pain. So when I graduated in 2020, I stopped drawing almost completely. Then Käärijä happened and I'm back at it I guess??

Realistic art is my fav thing in the world, transcribing reality in 2D dimension is really my first passion in art. My dad introduced me to charcoal on paper at an early age, and I just never grew out of it I guess haha. People are my fav thing to draw. I find it so relaxing, I'm not a creative person whatsoever as in I don't like to INVENT stuff, so just transcribing shadows without thinking about it gives me peace of mind.

Two examples of the portraits I made before getting back into it this year

This drawing of my mom (graphite on paper) I made in 2009 (I was 18), and a drawing of my grandma (chinamarker on paper) while I was still attending school in 2019 (I was 28)

@c28hunter asked about first, my fav Käärijä outfit. And that's the WORST question can't I just say that I love all of them??????

But really I think the green bolero is just too much of my aesthetic to not reply with that hahaha. Second place would be that damn leather jacket it's BEAUTIFUL

Second question, my fav type of bread. And I a french person I take this answer extremely seriously. My ultimate favourite type of bread is

OLIVE FOUGASSE

Like I never buy any because I know that I'm gonna eat it all by myself in two minutes

#about bison #pinned post #faq

[amtrak-official]

Final update on the whole story I'm working on for a bit, I am just going to drop in a read more. I hope you guys enjoy reading it

Today is the 3rd Sunday of the Month, this means that the city of Saltpeter’s oddities, mistakes, and rarities have come together for Brunch, the national pastime of this peculiar crowd, among them are 2 librarians, a museum curator, a traveling beekeeper, a pen crafter, and about 20 other peculiar fellows. Take great note on the pair of drab brown haired people sitting at the very back of the train station restaurant. These boring sorts go by the names of Danny Jones and Danielle Jones and hold absolutely no relation to each other.

The thing about Danny Jones and Danielle Jones that is so interesting is not the fact that they share a birthday or last names despite being unrelated in any way other than a lesbian aunt 7 generations back, is the fact that these are the 2 most dull and boring individuals you will ever meet. Both have the personality of sliced bread and they aren’t much better in fashion either. There is nothing special about either Jones, they both live completely ordinary lives as shopkeepers on opposite ends of town. The most eventful thing either will do in a month is a Sunday Brunch. And yet both have managed to obtain a loving relationship with incredibly interesting people. And more interesting still is the fact that both are going to wind up dead at the end of the month.

Now to understand why this will happen, you must understand Saltpeter, importantly there are 4 cultural institutions in the city of Saltpeter, Firstly is the Library, it is one of the 3 which is actually known to the people of Saltpeter, and houses exactly 17,943 books and 67 are currently checked out. Next is the Museum of Maria Fernando, a town crazy lady who runs a museum on the way things used to be, this is the institution people like to forget, despite mattering quite a lot to the city, it has received exactly 17 visitors this month and stays afloat via Maria’s wife’s second cousin’s generous yearly donations in exchange for copies of old novels. The 3rd cultural institution is the rail station, it is on the route of the oldest train in the nation, the California Zephyr and is run by the best chef in the city, Leaf Ann Smith, capable of both killing a man and cooking in Omelette in under 20 minutes. Finally there's the Pen shop, they sell pens, specifically fountain pens, each are hand made by a Saltpeter craftsman, it made the list because we were paid 72$ to add it. If someone wants to stretch the definition of an institution, they could get it up to about 20 institutions and a playhouse worth of cultural amenities, but they would also have to include the brunch of the misfits of Saltpeter, which really shouldn’t be added on principle since it happens in Leaf Ann Smith’s train station anyways.

Now back to the Brunch, something very important is about to happen, There will be a rather large toast to the group. This is on account of it being the 3rd anniversary of the start of the groups monthly meetings. Somehow that is a point of pride among the members due to how it is the longest any Brunch group in Saltpeter has lasted after the Infamous Brunch fights 20 years ago. The Brunch fights were a rather dreary matter for such a pleasant pastime. 27 dead and 63 injured over a week. All because of bad French Toast at an upscale restaurant near downtown Saltpeter. And when I say bad, I mean bad, it was soggy, barely toasted, and didn't have any fruits except the one eating it. It's not even like Saltpeter doesn't have any strawberries, it was built on the largest strawberry farm west of the Mississippi. How do you fuck up French Toast that badly? How?

Oh right, the Toast to the Brunch crew, A tall woman in a Green Dress, a leather Jacket and Gold Hoop earings stands up, her hair is cut in a pixie cut. She grabs a Mimosa off the table and begins to talk. Hurricane Jane Rivers as they call her is many things, a lesbian, crazy, a storm chaser, dangerous, a purveyor of Pancakes, a painter and an aerial ace, but one thing she is not is consise. It would take 7 paragraphs to summarize her speech to that disparate group of oddities. In short though, she was thanking them for the best 3 years of her life. Little did she know, only half of them would see next month.

As her glass hits the glass of another member of the Brunch, a whisper rings through the air.

A tick of a second

And Bang, the train comes to a screeching halt outside the station, passengers get off as Leaf Ann Smith scrambles to hide her current mess of a Diner from the view of the wealthy tourists from downtown the tracks. The train is early for once. Precisely 17 minutes and 6 seconds early, something that should not have been possible given the fact that the train tracks were under repairs between Omaha and Saltpeter. And the train had a 2 minute delay when it arrived at the last station. This is all irrelevant if not to show how off guard it caught Leaf Ann Smith who usually manages to keep incredibly on top of the schedules of the train so she can run the station and Diner at once. Leaf Ann Smith is a busy Woman between the Diner, the Station and her time moonlighting as the union negotiator for between the carpenters guild and Sylvia Ink the sole crafter of fountain pens in Saltpeter and a person notoriously bad at paying their union dues.

#last ride of the california zephyr #writeblr