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leahsgirl · 4 months

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homemade love | leah williamson x reader

why am i getting attached to a fake scenario i made up in my head i need help.

anyways happy valentine’s day & enjoy this blurb of pure fluff !

"do you want mamma to pour the flour or is wren doing it?" the blonde asked the nearly three year old next to her as she made sure to get the measurements right.

"wren do it!" taking the measuring cup that leah held out for her she dumped the contents in the bowl, being a little off target and some ending up on the counter instead. "good job beautiful."

leah had decided to surprise you, her fiancé, with breakfast in bed. it was valentines day after all and she loved to treat you in any way possible. she roped your daughter in of course, jumping at any opportunity to have the extra bonding time with her mini-me.

today was one of the rare instances where leah was actually awake before you considering it was often you having to pull the defender out of bed which was not an easy task could you just say.

"okay crack an egg into the mixture." she read from the cookbook open in front of her. "watch these skills kiddo." leah smirked as she took the egg and attempted to break it with one hand only for her to fail miserably and have the shell fall into the batter. wren giggled "silly mamma."

"shh don't tell anyone." she picked out the unwanted bits and booped her toddler's nose, leaving a flour mark on it.

eventually the pair finished the pancake mix after a quick flour fight and leah poured the mixture into the pan, flipping it with ease much to wrens amusement shown by her excited claps.

the skipper plated them up and let wren take control of the cream "okay! that's enough darlin." grabbing the bottle off of her after seeing what was practically a mountain of the whipped substance. finishing off the meal with a few strawberries and blueberries leah moved it all onto a tray.

"lets take this to mummy shall we?"

you stirred in your sleep as you felt a weight press onto your stomach. "mummy! mummy! wake up." the infant babbled as she continued to climb all over you.

"morning bubba." you gave her a weak smile while adjusting to the light coming through the window. "i made you bekfast!"

“oo did you now?”

"i'd say it was more a joint effort but i suppose she was the better chef." you looked up to see leah stood there with a goofy smile on her face holding a tray just above her waist.

"happy valentine's day baby." she placed the food down onto your lap, bending down and planting a sweet kiss on your lips.

"oh my, thank you guys." your heart swelled at the gesture - just picturing the behind the scenes you wished you were awake to see. "eat it?" wren who had now cuddled into your side looked up expectantly.

"hm i think wrenny should have first taste, considering she did make it after all." cutting a triangular piece out the stack you fed it to the young girl watching as her eyes lit up from the taste of sugar. "is it good?"

wren nodded vigorously and gave a thumbs up making both you and leah chuckle. you had to admit, they were good pancakes, almost too good considering leah's cooking history, she was by far not the designated chef of the family.

"wait hang on i forgot your present." leah suddenly realised as she dashed out of the room.

you look quizzically at your toddler "what's she got up her sleeve now?" only getting a shrug in return.

your fiancé now came back with her guitar she had been learning to play for a couple of months in her hand. "may i present to you ‘you are in love’ leah williamson version."

you couldn't help but laugh when you figured out what she was about to do. playing the chords to the song she began singing looking directly at you the whole time.

''cause you can hear it in the silence you can feel it on the way home you can see it with the lights out you are in love, true love you are in love'

you loved seeing leah like this; all cheesy and goofy, a complete 180 to how she was on the pitch. she may not be fully in tune but she did have a good voice that you could happily sit and listen to all day long.

wrapping the song up she took a bow as you and wren applauded her. "surprised it wasn't 'our song'." you say knowing how that was the older girl's favourite taylor song.

"thought i'd be a little spontaneous gorgeous." she winked as she now plonked herself on the bed so wren was in between the both of you.

"well i guess it's my turn now huh." rooting through your bedside table drawer. "i don't know if I'm going to beat the pancakes and serenades but here." you passed both wren and leah neatly wrapped gifts. "princess open yours first." you didn't have to tell wren twice before wrapping paper was flying everywhere revealing a baby doll wearing an arsenal shirt with the number 24 on it.

you looked at leah for any form of reaction but she clearly hadn't caught on yet simply sharing wrens excitement at the new toy "you can bring her to mummy and mamma's games."

"okay leah open yours." anticipation was bubbling inside the both of you.

the blondes mouth dropped open when she picked up the items at hand. "are ya serious?" doing a double take at the pregnancy scan photos and test she was holding in her hand. "it worked?"

nodding she rushed off the bed to your side, picking you up and twirling you around. "okay okay put me down! i don't want to start being sick before i have to."

she did as requested and held the scan right in front her face still in disbelief. "september 2024, twins.`' casually slipping it into conversation.

"fuck off." she said incredulously which earned her a glare off you, reminding her there is a child in the room.

"wren your going to be a big sister!" now shifting attention to her daughter - it being her turn to be picked up and bounced around.

"sister?" the little girl questioned. you pointed at your stomach "there's two babies in mummy's tummy." wren reached her small arms out to touch your belly "hello!"

"they can't talk yet love, they've gotta grow for a while in there, make sure they're strong and healthy just like you." the centre-back explained.

you smiled at the interaction. leah was such a good mum. you couldn't wait to make your family even bigger in a few months time. "good valentines day gift then?"

leah pulled you in to her side with her free arm. "the best. i love you." she pressed her lips onto yours, conveying every emotion possible. little laughs coming from the small body in the older girl's arms as she watched her grossly in love mothers.

"oh you find it funny when we kiss do you?" you quirked an eyebrow and watched as she nodded.

you pecked leah's mouth again..and again, hearing the giggles make a return.

"i think it's someone else's turn now." the defender smiled smugly and you quickly caught on, both bombarding your daughter with kisses on the face as she squealed happily.

god you loved your valentines.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #woso community #lionesses #england lionesses

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holylulusworld · 6 months

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BFG (2)

Summary: He’s new to town and just your type…

Pairing: Reacher x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: size kink, flirty reader, objectification of Reacher, language, violence, flirting

A/N: Please consider, that I do not follow the exact storyline of season one. Some characters known from the show may appear.

Catch up here: BFG (1)

BFG masterlist

Reacher made himself scarce over the following days. If not for the missing pie in your fridge and the fixed sink, you’d believe Reacher didn’t come to your home at all.

You don’t know what kind of business he has to take care of in your sleepy town, and you don’t want to know. He’s the kind of person you don’t ask too many questions.

“Morning,” you chirp when you walk in on Reacher wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He emptied the rest of your orange juice, drinking right out of the carton.

“Morning,” he looks at you when you pass him by to look in the fridge. “I drank your orange juice and ate the leftovers. I’ll pay you back.”

“Nah, I’m glad you ate the lasagna,” you say while poking your head inside the fridge. “It’s great to have someone around who can eat. A big man needs a lot of food.”

“Uh-thanks,” he grins as you bend a little to look for the eggs. You stick your ass out, offering a perfect view of your ass to Reacher. “I took care of the sink in the kitchen, and I’ll have a look at the heater upstairs.”

“You earned your stay already.” You place the eggs on the counter. “Do you want to have breakfast before you go? I bet you didn’t get any food last night. No wonder you had to eat the leftovers.”

“I came back late and didn’t find the time to grab food,” he dips his head to watch you grab a pan. “I wouldn’t say no to eggs.”

“How about pancakes, eggs, and bacon,” you smirk. Reacher subconsciously licks his lips. He hums and drops his eyes to the eggs. “As long as you are around, I’ll make sure you eat well. I can’t have you starving.”

He laughs. A heartfelt laughter fills the room as you join him. It’s been a while since you felt comfortable enough around a man to be just you.

That’s why you’re single at the moment. You hate playing a role and acting like you are a different person only because a man doesn’t like your attitude or personality.

You are who you are. Nothing less and nothing more.

“You think I’m starving?” He challenges.

“A man must eat to stay as big and tall as you,” you point out while unashamedly looking him up and down. “Now, pancakes yes or no?”

“I won’t say no to some pancakes and eggs…and bacon. Can I help you? I’m not a great cook, but I know a few tricks.”

“I bet you do,” you coo, and smirk. This man is a force of nature, and you try to show him that you can hold up with him. “What do you have up your sleeve, Mr. Reacher?”

Cocking your head, you watch him wipe his hand on his shirt.

“Just Reacher, mom called me that too,” he says. “And she taught me a thing or two when it comes to cooking.” He reaches for the eggs. “I can prepare the pancakes if you want me to.”

“Your mom,” you hum. “I learned baking and cooking from granny and my mom.”

“Your door needs fixing too,” he casually says while cracking the eggs. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

“Oh?” you quirk a brow. “What’s wrong with my door?”

He sighs, long and a little exasperated. “It’s not safe. Anyone could break in and steal your leftovers,” his features darken, and he squares his jaw, “or worse.”

“I got a nice baseball bat I’m burning to test on someone’s face,” you grin, but your smile fades when he shakes his head. “What? I’m not some damsel in distress.”

“I know you are not but,” he places his hand on top of yours, “there are people out there stronger than you. Maybe even stronger than me.”

You glance at Reacher. Maybe he’s not wrong. This sleepy town used to be a safe and friendly place, but things changed.

“Okay,” you agree. “This town isn’t as safe as it used to be. If you have any suggestions, tell me. I’ll buy all you’ll need.”

Reacher and you work in silence, preparing breakfast for the two of you. You glance at him from time to time, wondering about his plans for this town. He came here for a reason. You only hope he stays a little longer than a few days…

“Coffee, black,” a familiar voice barks at Sally Ann. It could’ve been a nice day, but now it’s ruined. “Chop, chop! I don’t have all day. Move your ass.”

“A good morning to you too,” you glare at the unwelcome guest. Kliner jr. - a slimy bastard you can’t stand. He believes only because his daddy has more money than his spoiled son can count that he’s better than the other people in town. “What can we bring you today?”

“Coffee, black,” his tone doesn’t change, only the way he stares at you. He cocks his head to watch you turn around to get a cup for him. “You still got that juicy ass, huh? Did anyone already fuck it? Damn, I bet—”

His voice dies, and you hear something slam onto the counter. You assume he slammed his fist down.

You twirl around to show him the way out only to watch Reacher press Kliner Jr.’s head to the counter.

He squares his jaw and lifts his hand only to slam the bastard’s head down onto the counter again.

“No one disrespects this lady in her diner or elsewhere,” Reacher whispers in Kliner Jr.’s ear. “I want you to nod if you understood what I said.”

“Do you know who my father is?” Kliner Jr. spats. He tries to act all tough, but it takes anything in him to not wet his pants. This beast of a man holds his head pinned to the counter and he’s got no clue how to free himself. “He’ll … he’ll…”

“He will do shit boy,” you snap at Kliner Jr. “Now get out of my diner or I will let you arrest for harassment.”

“Bitch!”

Reacher grabs Kliner Jr. but his neck, ready to slam him onto the counter again. “I want you to apologize to this lady. And you better mean it.”

“Fuck you!”

“Reacher. Stop.” You shake your head. “I’d like to tell you that he got the message, but he didn’t. He’s one of these guys who need a kick in the balls to leave a woman alone. I just don’t think anything will fix the mess in his head.”

Reacher looks you straight in the eyes, silently asking you if you want him to hurt Kliner Jr. even more. “You will get out of the diner and never come back. If I hear about you harassing her again, you will wish that you were never born.”

He releases Kliner Jr. and pushes him toward the door. “You are banned from the diner. Never come back.” You yell after him.

“Your coffee tastes like sweat either way,” Kliner Jr. spats while spitting blood onto the floor. “You fucked with the wrong guy.”

“You wish,” you snap and get your baseball bat out from under the counter. “You should be thankful he took care of you, not me. Betsy my bat would’ve made sure that you’ll never have a Kliner Jr.”

“You didn’t lie about that bat,” Reacher points at the baseball bat on the counter. “I knew you were trouble.”

“I could say the same about you.” You both chuckle at your flirty banter. “How about I give you a slice of pie for your help, sweetie.”

“That pet name sticks, huh?” He plops down on his seat. “Do you want me to wipe the counter?” Reacher looks at the blood on the counter. “I can clean up.”

“You handled the bastard, I can handle a little blood,” you wink at Reacher. “What do you want? Cherry, apple, or peach.”

“You know my taste.”

“I see you are already working on my door,” you duck under Reacher’s arm to enter your house. “You know, I wanted to pay for the things you’ll need to make it safer.”

“I got it handled,” he shrugs and goes back to work. It looks like he is trying to protect the crown jewels or something. “I bought orange juice too.”

“Well, if you are done for today,” you lean against the wall next to Reacher, “I’ll make you something for dinner.”

He looks at you and smirks. “I’d like that. I’m almost finished.”

“I’ll be waiting for you in the kitchen. I got a beer for you too.”

You walk toward the kitchen, swaying your hips as you feel his eyes on you.

Smiling to yourself you decide to not let this man slip through your fingers.

Part 3

BFG Tags

@xxyaoi-nationxx, @lovestoreadfiction, @glambyk, @sonicthehedgedoggo, @thewitchesofart, @emily-roberts, @littlelearningbrat, @mcira

#reacher #reacher x reader #jack reacher x reader #reacher fanfiction #plus-sized reader #jack reacher x plus-sized reader #female reader #reacher x y/n

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wutheringcaterpillar · 19 days

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A Bump In The Night: Part 4

Find part 3 here

Summary: You’ve fallen ill and Lizzie decides to pay you a visit whilst Tommy is away. Meanwhile a certain Shelby goes missing and Tommy may or may not have something to do with it.

Warnings: Incest

taglist: @calmingmelody96@sunflower-tia

Weeks had passed since the family meeting, an agreement finally being made of what was to happen. This relationship and the rumors running around town could ruin business, especially with Tommy’s run for office.

The plan was to divert the public eye from making any speculations that you and Tommy were anything but a sibling relationship.

The idea upset you immensely when Tommy agreed that he would no longer be picking you up from school, that you could no longer come visit him at work or be holding hands in public. No more lap sitting, or surprises, you needed to be distanced in public. It upset Tommy as much as you but he always had a better way at hiding his emotions then yourself.

Dwindling around, the house was quiet, no one home but yourself on this cold winter today and you planned to make the best of it.

Stepping around in Tommy’s room, your hands skimmed through the fabric of his wardrobe wanting to find something comfortable to wear that smelt of him while he was away for the day.

You ended up pulling his wife beater off the dirty pile of laundry, slipping the thin fabric over your skin, feeling peace and coziness at last.

Knocking the pillow of the bed in the process of leaving, your heart warmed when the shirt you wore the first night your brother took your virginity was tucked beneath it.

The sound of your stomach rumbling moved you forward from the treasured moment.

Heading to the kitchen and searching the cupboards and the refrigerator, you pulled some eggs and bacon out, slapping the food onto the pan, you turned on your favorite radio station, cracking the window open to let the smoke out.

Everything was going smoothly until you sat down to eat the scrumptious breakfast.

Your stomach churned, the smell of the smoke descending from your plate making you nauseous, head swirling in discomfort.

There was a knock at the door at that moment but the bile rising into your throat was far more important than whoever was outside waiting.

Rushing to the closest thing you could find, you depleted the contents of dinner from last night into the porcelain sink, retching and hacking while trying to find a moment to breath.

The knocking continued obnoxiously, the loud sound not at all helping the building headache that was slowly turning into a migraine.

“Give me a moment!” Wiping at your chin, you turned the faucet on to flush the vile contents down the drain.

Rolling your eyes, you opened the door without a hint of a kindness on your face, to your surprise it was Lizzie standing there with her arms folded, matching your facial expression.

“Well you look like shit.” She pushed past you, not waiting for an invite and noting whose shirt you were wearing.

“Where’s Tommy? That shirt doesn’t quite fit you does it?” Closing the door you groaned, not having the mental capacity or patience to deal with her at this very moment, much like many other times.

Can the woman not take a hint that her and Polly’s plan was going nowhere.

“He’s at work. Don’t you have somewhere to be?” She raised an annoyed brow at you, but you weren’t phased by her poor portrayal of dominance.

“I suppose he doesn’t know yet then but we moved the wedding forward to next week.” What in the hell was she talking about? Confusion and anxiety settled in, worsening the pain in your head which seemed to bring Lizzie a tremendous amount of joy as she noticed your discomfort. The truth of the fact was that she wanted Tommy all for herself, she has for a long time but she was never going to have him the way you did, never again.

“He’ll never let James marry me especially against my will. Were you not present for the conversation yesterday? Or were you too busy lusting over someone who could care less about you.” Her jaw clenched at your snarky response, muttering something under her breath before leaving out the door in a fierce fury.

Smirking to yourself, you went upstairs drawing a hot bath with bubbles, attempting to ease your aching body and settle your stomach. When that didn’t seem to work you resorted into snooping through Tommy’s desk drawers in search of a pain reliever or something but there was nothing. He always did have good hiding spot for his stashes. Going into Ada’s room you found a bottle of motrin, surely she’d understand being a woman herself.

Wandering back into Tommy’s room, you rested your head on the pillow, curling up into a small ball in hopes of going to sleep.

It wasn’t long until the medicine kicked in and you drifted off into sleep.

A few hours later Tommy pulled into the driveway, retrieving his suitcase from the passenger seat eager to see his little princess. Having to distance himself was extremely difficult, he found himself constantly worrying about if you were alright or not. Ascending the stairs, Tommy opened his door excitedly onto to find you laying in bed with a bucket on the floor beside you. Your face was sweaty, a bit warm when his palm lay delicately on your temple. Concern immediately consumed him.

“Have you fallen ill my love? What’s going on?” Still in his suit he crawled in the bed beside you, arms cradling your feeble body protectively.

“I don’t feel well. I’ve been throwing up all morning and just having constant tummy aches.” Tommy gave you a look of pity and concern. It wasn’t often you had gotten sick, it was quite rare and when you were it was bad.

Turning around, you nuzzled your temple into the crook of his neck, hands grasping at the fabric of his jacket in desperate search of comfort-ability.

“Missed you…Lizzie came today. She said the wedding is next week.” You felt Tommy tense around you. What did he have to do to make her and James understand that his word was law?

Surely Pol was in on it, she seemed to always step her foot in a place it didn’t belong.

“I can assure you, no one will be marrying my princess and if they want to test to see if I’m bluffing, the outcome will be tumultuously heinous. Now don’t worry that little head. I’m home now love, let’s rest.”

As days passed Tommy noticed you were still throwing up, still needing to be in darkness as the sunlight pained your aching head. He was worried more when you mentioned how going to the bathroom seemed to he an issue now, specifically number two. You were embarrassed to tell him but didn’t trust anyone else in the house to say.

Tommy knew the signs, he wasn’t an idiot. Currently he was pacing in the hallway outside the bedroom trying to figure out a way to tell you. He himself was overjoyed but he can just imagine how frightened you’d be.

“Thomas!” Poll screamed after him from downstairs. Rolling his eyes he descended down the dwindling steps, frustration vibrant in his voice.

“Will you keep your voice down. She’s sleeping, that’s the best thing for her right now.” She scoffed in response, demanding that they go to his office then to which he begrudgingly obliged.

Tommy closed the door quietly while Pol lot a cigarette, helping herself to the table of liquor in the corner of the room.

“What did you do with him!”

Tommy simply smirked, taking a seat behind his desk and settling his feet on the wooden surface non-chalantly before lighting his own cigarette.

“And who might that be Pol?” Her hands swiped away the belongings on the desk, papers and pens scattering onto the hardwood floor, yet he remained unphased by her angered outburst.

“You know damn well who!” Raising his eyebrows in frustration, he stood up from his seat, pointing directly in your aunt’s face.

“I told you that you wouldn’t like the consequences if you went to war with me. When will you learn that Y/N is better off without him. Michael will remain safe where he is as long as you keep your meddling nose out of our relationship.”

“It’s not a relationship Thomas she is your fucking sister! We had an agreement I-“ Tommy raised his finger, cutter her off abruptly.

“No. No. Our agreement didn’t include this joke of an arranged marriage. Tell me, when are you going to start caring about what she wants? Don’t think about me, think about your niece for once eh? She has feelings to consider too y’know. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to go tend to my ill girl.” Pol stepped in front of him in an effort to block him from moving, causing him to merely laugh menacingly.

“You don’t want to do that. Maybe you should think about that bastard of child of yours as well. Who knows if you’ll ever see him again.” He shoved past her as she stood there in disbelief. How was she the bad guy for wanting to put a stop to this? For wanting to do the right thing? She screamed out in aggravation.

“If you harm a fucking hair on his head I will take your fucking heart out myself, you hear me?!” He ignored her, walking back toward your room more concerned about you, stressing over what he believed to be true.

When he walked in you were already sat up, hugging your pillow tightly, unliking the conflict of the situation. Tommy pursed his lip, apologetic for the yelling waking you up from your need slumber.

Taking a seat beside you, he leaned in toward your touch. His thumbs moving in a circular motion. He only did that when he was in deep thought?

“Is everything okay Tommy?” He looked down at your bucket, noticing the layer of new contents and how your eyes still appeared tired though you’ve been resting all day.

Placing an endearing kiss to your temple, he settled you in his lap, wiping a strand of hair behind your ear as his eyes searched for a hint that maybe you had come to the conclusion, yet you appeared just worried and confused.

Adding up how long it has been in his head, the math seemed definitive.

“My love, you might very well be pregnant.”

#thomas shelby #Tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #ranaewrites #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 6 months

Text

@steddiemas Day 6 - Baking & Cookie Decorating

pairing: pre-steddie | word count: 1,911 | rated: G

A couple days later finds Eddie on his way to Steve’s house at the early as fuck hour of 8:30am

“AARrugh–fuuck!” he curses again, trying to stifle down another cracking yawn, “It should be illegal to be up this early.”

“You mean the normal time people get up?”

“No, normal is lunchtime. Realistic is two.”

“God, you’re such a loser.”

“And yet you still hang out with me.”

“Uh, no. I hang out with Steve and El and Lucas and sometimes Dustin. You’re just there by association.”

“Ouch Red, that hurts my soul.” He winces dramatically

“What soul?”

Eddie grins at her, “Touché, Maxine”

Her tiny, pointy knuckles meet his bicep as he pulls Bessie into the Harringtons’ driveway.

They’re having a pre-thanksgiving dinner with the party before they all have actual Thanksgiving with each of their families, and Max insisted on coming over early to help Steve with preparations.

“If we don’t go help, he’s going to do it all by himself you know.”

“Robin will be there, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, he’s gonna do everything by himself. You know Robin is moral support at best.”

“And what are we gonna be, huh? You think I’m any better?”

She had huffed at that. “We’re going, Munson.”

So, here they are. Like Eddie suspected, as soon as they breach the front door, Robin is visible on one of the stools at the island, sleep rumpled and a mug in hand, and Steve is standing at the stove already.

“Good ‘morrow to you, Lord and Lady Buckley,” Eddie bellows, startling them both, “Myself and the young Miss Mayfield have traveled far to be with you on this momentous day, and to offer to you our services.” he gives them a dramatic bow, glancing up through his lashes.

Steve is grinning, Robin has collapsed forward onto the counter in front of her, Max is groaning.

He stands straight again, “We may only be a couple of lowly peasants in your Kingdom, but the call to help was unavoidable.”

“Eddie did not want to come help, lemme make that clear.”

“Shut up, Max”

“You shut up, liar–”

“Okay, okay!” Steve laughs, interrupting them, “Many thanks to you both for making the trip; your help will be greatly appreciated.”

Eddie’s stomach goes soupy, he loves when Steve plays along.

“So, what can we do?” he asks, clapping his hands once and rubbing his palms together like he’s itching to get started.

“Well, it is still pretty early (“I told you.”, “Shut up, Eddie.”), so right now you can help by telling me how you like your eggs.”

The turkey goes into the oven halfway through breakfast, Steve having prepped it last night, so Steve starts to cipher out what else he needs to make.

“Dustin said that Claudia was making a pumpkin pie for us, so we’re set there, I’m making the sweet potato casserole, Lucas said that his mom is sending over a pan of greens with him and Erica, Robin has the stuffing covered–”

“I make a mean can of Stovetop.” Robin cuts in from the sink where she’s washing the few dishes from breakfast.

“Pretty much everyone else is bringing something…” Steve looks lost for a moment, then his expression turns tense, that crease between his brows cuts deep into his skin.

Max must see this too because she says, “What about cookies?”

“Cookies?”

“Yeah, like the sugar cookies you made everyone a tin of last year?” “You made everyone sugar cookies?? Why wasn’t I given any?” Steve rolls his eyes, “‘Cause last year you were just Eddie “The Freak” Munson,”

“Hey–I resent that,” Eddie pokes Steve in the chest, “I’m still Eddie “The Freak” Munson, thank you very much.” “Many apologies, Your Freak-ness, how ever shall I make it up to you.” His tone is sarcastic, but the words make a whole matter of unsavory retorts gather on Eddie’s tongue.

“C’mon Steve, I want those damn cookies!” Max demands, smacking a palm onto the counter to really sell it.

“Hey! Language.”

“I also want some of those damn cookies.” Robin agrees.

“Yeah c’mon Stevie, I didn’t get to have any last year and now I’m curious.” “Dude, they’re the best cookies ever. I hate that he only makes them once a year.”

“Okay, okay, fine! Lemme make sure I have everything I need.”

He does, so he gets to work as requested demanded, though he does send Max and Robin (with her newly acquired license) to the store for powdered sugar. “For the frosting..I’m sure you want frosting on these, right?”

Eddie sticks close after they leave, watching Steve work and passing him ingredients.

At one point, Eddie scoops up a cup of flour for him, only to have Steve wrap his hand over his on the handle of the cup and start to stir the flour in it with a fork.

“Uh, do you always need to stir your flour before putting it in?” Is that a thing? Eddie has never done that, even within the few times he’s ever actually baked something before.

“You do if the person scooping packs it into the cup like this.” Steve teases, spinning the fork around in his hand to scrape the now-overflowing heap of flour off the top of the measuring cup and back into the bag with the handle. “Flour doesn’t get packed down to measure, fluffy and loose measurements only.” Steve pulls Eddie’s hand forward and upends the cup over the mixing bowl.

Eddie’s mouth feels like it’s coated in flour.

“There! Perfect. I’ll need another cup just like that one.” Steve smiles and passes the fork to him.

He lets Eddie's hand go and turns back to the bowl, mixing the flour in with one of those rubber scraping spatulas instead of using the electric beater he’d used for the eggs and sugar.

“So,” Eddie re-wets the inside of his mouth so he can talk correctly, “Why do you only make these once a year?” He carefully scoops up another helping of flour.

“They’re usually Christmas cookies and I– aw shit.”

“What?”

“I don’t have any non-Christmas themed cookie cutters.”

Eddie immediately thinks back to one of the last Christmases he had with his mom. Ouch…damn it.

He gulps down the lump in his throat. “Do you have any empties?”

Eddie can feel Steve watching him as he works, carefully cutting the tops and bottoms off a good sized bag of empty soda and beer cans over the sink. He cuts the new aluminum rectangles in half lengthwise and sets the strips aside.

“You’ve made these before?”

“Yep! Easier to make your own than buy them, y’know?”

Steve chuckles, “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“My mom liked to make new ones every year, so I have a lot of practice doing this,” Eddie pushes on, picking up a strip of metal and folds it in half lengthwise. “We’ll need some tape for the open side, but basically you fold it like this, shape it however you want, and fold the ends over each other to keep them closed.”

He demonstrates, making a messy heart shape pretty quickly. “You can link more than one together if you want, too. Make bigger ones…Ta da!” He shows off the ‘finished’ shape.

“Sweet!”

By the time Robin and Max return, Eddie’s got a pile of aluminum strips ready to go, and Steve’s done with the dough.

“Perfect timing, ladies, come help us make cookie cutters.”

Max pulls up a stool immediately, grabbing a couple of the metal strips, but Robin huffs. “Aw, what? We have to make the cookie cutters first? I thought I’d come home to a house full of cookies, Steve.”

“The dough has to chill in the fridge for an hour, and we don’t have any Thanksgiving themed ones.” Steve says, rolling his eyes at her. “Also, you weren’t even gone that long!”

Robin pulls up a stool, “Excuses, Steven.”

Turns out, there’s not that many shapes associated with turkey day, so after the obligatory pumpkin shape, and a surprisingly well-shaped turkey-looking blob, they make whatever else they feel like.

Robin uses a ruler she found in a drawer to fold some ridges into a circle shape, “It’s a pie, obviously.”, Steve uses a few strips to make what he says is an elephant, “Yeah, an elephant. These are the two ears and this is the trunk.”, Max uses two of the strips to make some sort of flower shape with five pointy petals, “A…poinsettia?” Eddie asks; “A demogorgon.” Steve and Max say at the same time. Ah., and Eddie spends his time linking a good few together to make the Hellfire demon.

“I hope this doesn’t get all blob-y.”

Steve looks over at his creation, “It shouldn’t, the dough holds up pretty well when it’s baked; that’s why you let it chill for a bit.”

He stands then, retrieving the saran-wrapped hunk of dough from the fridge and gets to work rolling it out.

Eddie watches the muscles in his arms bunch and pull, and, like a sap, thinks about how they’d feel wrapped around him. He likes hugs, okay? Sue him.

The four of them cut batch after batch after batch of cookies (each of them sneaking bites of the dough as they do), and by time they are baked and fully cooled, the sweet potatoes are in the oven, the stuffing is sitting done on the stove, there’s a sheet of rolls waiting to go in after the casserole, the others start to show up.

“Oh sweet, cookies!” Dustin’s finger immediately dunks into the bowl of frosting Steve just finished whipping up.

“Hey! Hands off, asshole, I still need to color some of that.

Steve passes Eddie a bowl of the stuff, a couple of drops of food coloring sitting on top. “Mix that up, will you?” I’m making the orange, that’s yellow.”

Eddie gives him a mock salute, “You got it boss.”

“Henderson, grab the sprinkles, you’re helping with these.”

The island is a disaster by the time they are done frosting the cookies. There’s colored sugar everywhere, loose M&Ms, broken pretzels, and there’s even a glob of red frosting hanging precariously from the underside of one of the far cabinet doors (somehow).

Each of the new arrivals grab up a couple of the cookies to decorate once they get in, adding their own goofy-looking additions to the heap.

Mike and Nancy are the last to arrive, toting a huge bowl of fluffy mashed potatoes, and they dig into the turkey soon after.

They eat and eat and eat, laughing and eating some more, that by the time anyone gets around to the cookies, the very outside of their frosting has hardened to a crust and the inside is still soft and sugary.

“Oh my god, Steve.” Eddie moans, “This is the best cookie I’ve ever tasted.”

Steve’s face flushes pink, but he smiles wide. “I’m glad you like them, Eds.”

“I need to take some home to Wayne.”

Steve passes him a tupperware container of their creations as he’s leaving, along with an index card with Steve’s distinct handwriting is scrawled across it; the recipe for the cookies.

Eddie gets home that night just before Wayne heads in for his shift. “Y’have a good day, son?” he asks, plucking out one of the cookies from the container Eddie holds open for him as they pass each other in the doorway.

He smiles wide, “Very..”

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fairy-writes · 1 year

Note

FAIRY!!! CONGRATULATIONS ON 1K FOLLOWERS!! MAY MANY MORE COME!!! :O <3

May I request Edward Elric with the action propmpt 10? That would be awesome!! <3

APPLE PIES

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Fullmetal Alchemist

Pairing(s): Edward Elric x Gender Neutral!Reader

Prompt: Putting their head on their lover’s shoulder (Action Prompt #10)

Notes: POST-FMAB EVENTS

AND THANK YOU RU

This is for my 1K followers event! It’s going on between June 8th and June 22nd!

__________________________________________________________________________

Even after all Father had put you through, some things never changed.

That thing being Edward’s obnoxious love for apple pies.

Specifically Gracia’s recipe. She had been kind enough to gift you and Winry the recipe years ago. The scrap of paper was well-loved and worn out, stained with butter, and the writing barely legible. But that didn’t matter. You knew the recipe by heart after years of making it for your lover.

Your forearms were covered in flour, and you were pretty sure you had something on your face as you worked butter into your dry ingredients. Your hands felt sticky with dough, but you didn’t mind. This would make Edward happy, and that alone made your day.

It always did.

Especially after all he had gone through growing up and through his young adult life.

You cracked an egg on the corner of the bowl and added it to the dough mixture, mixing everything by hand until you had the consistency you wanted. It had grown warm in the process, so you stuck it in the ice box to chill for at least an hour while you got to work on the filling.

Two tablespoons of lemon juice. Nine apples peeled, cored, and sliced into wedges. Both went into a bowl with some sugar and tossed until combined. Then a skillet was turned on, and everything was put in with more butter and mixed until the apples were soft. The scent of fruit filled the air, making your mouth water, and you felt giddy at the idea of eating the dessert later.

You may not have been Edward, but you still loved a good apple pie now and then.

Just then, warm arms wrapped around your waist, and a chin was put on your shoulder.

“What are you making?” Came Edward’s voice, and you hummed, leaning your head on his as you tossed the apples once again in the skillet. The sugar was melting. It was almost time.

“Apple pie. You asked for one last week.” You said warmly and felt him grin as he turned his head to place a kiss where your shoulder met your neck.

“You remembered?” At this, you huff out a laugh,

“Have I ever forgotten something?” You say, and he thinks it over, pecking your cheek this time.

“No. It’s like Ling said. Something about elephants never forgetting. Wait, no—Alphonse said that in one of his letters. He’s studying them with May Chang in between alkahestry lessons.” He said, tapping his fingers against your waist.

You gently pry his arms away from around you, ignoring his whine, and go to pull the dough from the fridge, turning off the stovetop as you do so.

“Now that you’re here, you can help me.” You say, and he raises an eyebrow,

“You’re trusting me in the kitchen? I thought I was banned after Valentine’s Day.” He says but grabs an apron from where it’s hanging on the wall nonetheless. You hold a finger up, smearing some flour on his nose,

“I’m trusting you with supervision. Don’t think I’ll let you in the kitchen with anything less than that. Alphonse can cook better than you, and he didn’t even have a body growing up!”

Edward mutters under his breath, something about how “that isn’t fair,” but he smiles at you nonetheless when he notices you watching him tie the apron.

“Like what you see?” He teases, and you offer a mischievous grin. “I always do.” You retort and delight in the way his cheeks flush a pretty pink.

You quickly put Edward to work with the dough from the ice box. You carefully instruct him how to make pie crust and are actually rather impressed with how they turn out. Soon, you have two perfectly constructed pie crusts ready to be filled.

Maybe you can actually trust your lover in the kitchen. But then you remember the burnt attempt at breakfast from Valentine’s Day.

Like you had said before, he’s allowed in the kitchen with supervision.

You blink and are torn from your thoughts when something is smeared on your cheek. You look up from where you are preparing the second pie to see Edward with that grin of his that means he’s up to no good. Egg yolk is coating his finger, and you assume that’s what he just put on your face.

“You're supposed to be brushing the pie. Not my face.” You say, and he laughs.

It’s one of your favorite sounds in the world.

“Just seeing if you’re paying attention.” He says, and you smile. His own grin softens as you step into his side, wrapping a flour-stained hand around his waist.

“I love you, y’know?” You whisper, and he gently grasps your chin, turning you to face him, and kisses you so gently as if you’ll break. He tastes like stolen pie filling, but you don’t mind.

He’s so gentle with his love. He always has been.

It was one of the things you love about him.

And it was soft, domestic times like this that you treasured the most.

#edward elric x you #edward elric x reader #edward elric x y/n #fma edward x reader #fmab edward x reader #fma x reader #fma edward #fma edward elric #fmab edward #fmab edward elric #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fullmetal alchemist x reader #fairy writes #fairy 1000 followers

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sparklypinkflightsuit · 2 months

Text

Stars Align: Part 4

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: Pining, Angst, Lots of Fluff, Hidden Feelings, Anger, Mentions of Abuse, Violence, Sexual Themes, Alcohol, Eventual Smut.

-- Part 3 Here --

_______________________

18+ Only

_______________________

Past:

Bradley played with your hair as you fell asleep that night, humming to you until you were breathing soft snores in his ear. At one point you’d rolled over on your side and your arm came to rest across his torso.

Bradley smiled and traced patterns up and down your arm until he eventually dozed off too.

When the morning came and the sunlight blinded you, you stretched and rolled over into an upright position.

You turned back to look for Bradley but he was already gone. You groaned and shuffled out of bed and down the stairs.

Your mom was in the kitchen scrambling eggs.

“Morning my love, did you sleep okay?” She cooed, you gave her a side hug and yawned.

“Yeah, thanks mom, you?”

“Yeah not too bad, your dad snored a lot though.”

You laughed a breath through your nose, and walked into the dining room and stopped in your tracks.

“Morning sleepy head.” Bradley grinned, his hands behind his head as he stretched at your dining table, his dark hair a mess.

You forced a surprised smile down, he hadn’t left you after all.

“Morning.” You mumbled.

“Bradley and I are going to hit the hardware store after breakfast, but then we were thinking it might be fun to go down to the beach, how do you feel about that?” Your dad asked, getting up and kissing the top of your frizzy head, before moving to the kitchen to help your mom with breakfast.

“I wanna go to the beach!” Your little sister enthused, jumping up from her seat at the table and running after your dad.

“Yeah that sounds fun.” You grinned. Sitting down across from Bradley, you tried your best to act normal, but inside you a war of emotions raged.

On one hand, you desperately longed to hold onto your perfect friendship, you knew not everyone was lucky enough to have a best friend they felt as comfortable with as you did. But on the other hand, with each passing day your longing for him only grew stronger. You began to notice how long his eyelashes were, and that his teenage lankiness began to fill out into muscles, and his height suddenly began to suit him.

You were pulled from your thoughts as Bradley plopped a hand down in front of you on the table.

“Hey, I was thinking we could dig out my old bodyboards in the garage and practice skim boarding again.” He said with a grin.

You groaned, remembering how hard you wiped out the last time you tried, and how your breath was knocked out of you.

“No way, I suck.” You grimaced.

“Oh come on, how are you gonna get better if you don’t practice? Plus I’ll hold your hand this time.”

You blushed and looked down at your hands.

“Yeah okay, I guess I could try again.”

When you looked back up, you were struck with the gentle affection in Bradley’s eyes, as he beamed a cheeky grin at you.

———————————————

Present:

You’d just finished packing away your 4th box, when there was a knock on your door. So soft and faint you barely heard it.

You walked over to the door and opened it a crack.

“What am I, your drug dealer? Let me in, woman.” Gabby groaned behind her giant sunglasses, 2 large cups of coffee and a bag of pastries in her hands. She stood hunched over, like she would break if she didn’t find a sofa soon.

You threw the door open and she stumbled in, thrusting the drinks and food in your arms and collapsing on your sofa with a loud groan.

“Woah, you look worse than I feel. I thought you would be ok, I drank way more than you did.” You laughed.

“I may have stopped at a bar on the way home, met a guy, had a few more, was fun. But I am dying.” She breathed.

“So you decided to get out of bed, travel halfway across town, pick up coffee and then climb 5 flights of stairs to come here?” You raised your eyebrows at her.

“Elevators fixed, but yes. I need my best girl while I die. Plus… the guy I met is still at my apartment.” She groaned.

You laughed and sat down next to her, handing her the latte she’d ordered and a pain au chocolat, and gave her a run down of your night.

“Wait wait wait, so you’re telling me the boy you were madly in love with in high school - now a total hunk by the way, wow - came back to your apartment, and you didn’t fuck?” Gabby lifted her sunglasses to look at you like you were losing your mind.

“Gabs it’s the first time we’ve seen each other in well over a decade, and we had a lot of catching up to do. Plus, I highly doubt he feels that way about me.”

“But… you do still have feelings don’t you? I could see the way you looked at him in the club. Your eyes were practically heart shaped. And I know a slack jaw when I see one, he definitely had one of those when he saw you.”

You chuckled, “Uhm… I dunno. I mean he’s different now. Not the boy I fell in love with… but he’s better, somehow. He’s really grown up.”

“Hmmm yeah I bet he’s grown in other places too.” She stretched and yawned. “I’m climbing into bed. Join me?” She pleaded.

“Yeah, go pick a movie and I’ll be in soon.” You shooed Gabby off to your bedroom and got up to fish out some clean clothes. You were still in your dress from last night and the lace was beginning to make you itchy.

You opened up a box you thought your pj’s would be in and pulled out a wad of old clothes. Something small and metallic clanked to the floor.

You bent down and held the chain up to the light, a small inscribed ring dangling in front of you.

You laughed in surprise as you inspected it. You hadn’t seen this since you met Jacob, and it had suddenly gone missing from your nightstand. The ring Bradley had given you when he found out you were moving, the one that was identical to the ring he’d had made for himself, so you’d always remember one another and the friendship you held so close to your heart.

You pouted and let out another soft laugh as you read the inscription.

‘B&B ~ When The Stars Align We’ll Reunite’

You had thought it was silly when you were younger, a line from Bradley’s favourite book, one you’d constantly teased him for reading, but now you couldn’t help but marvel at the accuracy and timing.

It’s like Bradley knew, deep down, that you’d find a way back to one another again some day.

———————————

Past:

You stepped onto the hot sand and shielded the sun from your eyes as you looked towards the packed shore.

Bradley sidled up next to you and put an arm around your shoulder. “Ready to wipe out?” He joked.

You looked up at him with a look of mock disgust, “You do realise I’m already hesitant to make a fool of myself in front of all these people, right?”

Bradley grinned and put you in a headlock, you squealed and struggled as he ruffled your hair again.

You pulled away and glared at him, “That’s it, you are SO dead!”

Bradley stuck out his tongue and you chased after him, eventually catching up when he stopped for a second and jumping onto his back. You proceeded you ruffle up his hair in revenge.

“That doesn’t bother me as much as it bothers you.” He pointed out, you sighed, and linked your arms around his neck. Bradley gave you a piggyback as he followed your parents and siblings to an empty spot on the sand.

“Brad! Hey Brad!” An annoyingly cool voice called from the spot next to it.

“Oh. Hi Michelle.” He responded coldly, gripping your legs around his waist tighter. You frowned as you watched her approach, and she barely acknowledged your presence.

Bradley gently put you down on the sand.

“Look, I was hoping we could talk… about last night.” Michelle purred, you could tell she was trying to act sorry, but it wasn’t very convincing.

“I’m a little busy right now.” Bradley said.

“Please? I’ll just be a few minutes, promise.” She fluttered her long eyelashes and Bradley sighed.

“Okay, be right back, Birdy.” And before you knew it they were both walking down the beach and away from you.

You lay out your beach towel and sat down, stretching your legs out to catch some sun. Your mom sat down next to you and fished your book out of her bag, which you took happily.

''Who's the girl?'' your mom asked.

''No one important, just one of the popular girls from school.'' You mumbled as you opened your book.

''Does Bradley like her?''

''What do you think, mom? She looks about 25 with those boobs, what guy wouldn't?''

Your mom chuckled, smoothing sunscreen on her legs. ''He doesn't look at her the same way he looks at you, though.''

You looked over at your mom quizzically, ''What? Like a little sister?'' you laughed, masking your slightly piqued interest.

''That's not what we see. Bradley's a good kid, Y/N, and we know he'd take good care of you if you were... more than friends.''

''Ew, gross mom. No we're just friends, that's all we'll ever be.'' you pretended to be grossed out at the idea as you went back to your book, but your eyes kept flickering back to the shoreline to try and find Bradley.

''Mhmm, sure honey, if that's how you feel.'' but your parents knew better.

————————————

Present:

You and Gabby spent the rest of the day in bed, alternating between movies, sleep and running to the bathroom to upheave the copious amounts of alcohol that burnt away at your stomach linings.

Eventually Gabby felt well enough to brave her apartment, and said goodnight to you. You closed the door behind her and sighed, the apartment feeling empty and cold.

You decided to take a shower and wash away the rest of the icky hangover, and you'd then order pizza or tacos while you watched another movie.

You climbed into the shower and the hot water flowed down your aching body. Your muscles and your feet hated you for the ordeal you'd put them through, and you moaned at the feeling of the water relaxing you.

You tried to clear your mind, but one thought kept making its way back to you over and over again. Bradley.

You kept thinking about his big arms as he hovered over you in the bar, and his thick, veiny neck. You thought somehow his lips looked more plump, fuller, and wondered what it would feel like to kiss them, or how his beefy hands would feel running down your body.

Suddenly there was a loud knock on your door that you could hear even under the running shower, and you gasped, your dirty thoughts rudely interrupted. You were sure it was Gabby, maybe she'd forgotten something or realised her date from last night was still in her apartment and she didn't want to deal with the situation.

You groaned and wrapped a towel around you, not even bothering to dry off properly as you padded towards the living room and to the door. You threw the door open.

''Gabs if you're about to ask me to get rid of-''

It wasn't Gabby.

''Woah, sorry Birdy.'' Bradley stood with his arm propped up against the door frame, taking in your wet form. He was wearing a suit and loosened tie, and stank of whiskey. ''Didn't mean to interrupt.' He mumbled.

You stepped back so he could come in, ''Brad, what are you doing here?'' you asked, ''Aren't you meant to be at the reception right about now?''

Bradley stumbled inside, ''Yeah, but it's the funniest thing, I couldn't enjoy myself.''

''Why not? Smells like you've been having a great time.'' you chuckled as you disappeared into the bathroom to turn off the shower. Bradley followed you, slightly tipsy but not as bad as the night before.

''I couldn't stop thinking about you.'' He stated, leaning against the door frame.

You turned to face him, gripping the towel tightly, suddenly conscious of the thin layer being the only thing protecting the last part of you Bradley had never seen before.

''What do you mean?''

''I go back to California in the morning, come with me.'' he stated.

You scoffed, walking past him to your bedroom.

''I can't, Bradley. I start my new job tomorrow. I don't think they'll be happy with me taking vacation days so soon.''

''I don't mean vacation, Birdy, I mean move to California with me.'' he said seriously, following you to the bedroom.

You spun round and shot him a look of confusion. ''How drunk are you?''

''I'm not drunk. I've been thinking about this all day, for the last 16 years actually, I have missed you every single day and I want my best friend back.''

''You know I miss you, and I'd love to see you every day like we used to, but we're grown ups now Bradley, we have lives and jobs and I can't just follow you across the country so we can hang out more.'' you huffed, trying to find something to wear.

''Birdy would you just stop for a second? I know you've got this fancy new job, but you never wanted to be a teacher growing up, you wanted to be an artist like your mom, why won't you just do that?'' he crossed over and stood in front of you.

You looked up at him, exasperated, ''You think it's that easy? That I'll paint and be able to just make a living that way? You know it's not, that's why my mom had to get a real job. I can't just follow you on a whim.''

Bradley sighed and shook his head, ''You can stay with me, that way there's no pressure to make money right away.'' he was pleading now, desperate to convince you.

''Bradley, as much as I want to, I can't.'' you said softly this time, turning to fully face him, water dripping from your hair and rolling down your chest. Bradleys eyes followed a drop and he noticed the thing hanging around your neck.

He breathed out a soft chuckle, his fingers softly skimming your collarbone as he picked up the inscribed ring. Goosebumps covered your skin and you fought back a shiver.

''You kept it.'' he breathed.

''Of course.'' you lied, you wouldn't tell him now that you'd actually misplaced it and only found it earlier.

Bradley gently let go of the necklace and reached into his shirt, pulling out a slightly warn, scratched version. His own ring.

You bit back the sudden urge to sob, as you picked the ring up from his fingers, looking at the thing he so clearly wore every day around his neck.

You looked up at Bradley with teary eyes, and he brought a hand up to stroke your hair out of your face.

''Please just think about it, I'll leave you my number and my home address, my door is always open.'' He breathed.

You nodded, ''I'll think about it.''

_______________________________

Past:

Half an hour passed and finally Bradley returned, a grin plastered across his face. He sat down on your towel facing you, moving your legs either side of him as he grinned down at you, your book blocking the sun that threatened to blind you. You moved the book slightly and eyed him suspiciously.

''What?'' you asked, covering your eyes with your book as you continued to read.

''I have a girlfriend.'' Bradley sang, and your heart stopped. You closed your book and sat up on your elbows.

''I repeat, what?''

''Yup, Michelle apologised for ditching last night. She said she really likes me and was just nervous about the whole thing. I'm taking her out tonight.'' He grinned, softly tapping your legs like a set of drums.

''Good for you.'' you rolled your eyes and pulled your legs away, standing up and walking to the waterline.

Bradley got up and jogged after you, ''Why aren't you happy for me?''

''I am happy for you, Bradley, your dream girl is finally yours, congrats.'' you said bitterly.

Bradley rounded you and stopped you from walking any further, ''Is this because you don't like Michelle?''

You pushed passed him, ''No, she's fine. Just don't come crying to me when she breaks your heart.''

You left Bradley standing hurt and confused on the beach as you went for a swim to cool off, you should have pretended to be happier for him, and felt bad for your mood, but Michelle wasn't right for him and you knew she was bad news.

You just hoped Bradley would figure that out for himself before she did any real damage.

________________________________

Present:

You didn't sleep that night. You spent the entire time tossing and turning, and staring at the piece of paper with Bradleys cell number and address on it.

He was right when he said teaching wasn't your dream, but when your dream was as unrealistic as yours, you had no other choice.

You could either stay in New York and do something meaningful, moulding young minds and making a difference, just allowing the years to pass uneventfully, hopefully find a nice man and forget about Bradley all over again. Or you could follow Bradley, and give your dream a real try, enjoying life to the fullest.

But what if you did go to California, and life wasn't what you'd hoped it would be? What if moving in with him only made your feelings grow stronger, what if you started the whole cycle all over again, of loving him and losing him and having to overcome those dark feelings on your own again. What if you told him how you felt, and he got all weirded out and it ruined things.

What if you lost Gabby through all of this, and were never able to find a job as good as the one you had now.

There were so many 'what ifs' that plagued you as you desperately sought sleep, but by the time the sun came up, you were no closer to making a decision.

You got dressed and made your way to the school, meeting Gabby outside as you'd planned to do, and she looked much fresher than the day before.

''Hey, how did it go with your lodger?'' you joked.

She blew out a tuft of air, and looked at you awkwardly.

''What?'' you chuckled, as you walked together through the school gates.

''Yeah, we're kinda dating now. His name is Mark.'' she fluttered her eyelashes.

''What? You said he was creepy!'' you groaned at her.

Gabby sighed, ''Yeah, I know, but let's be real, it's hard to find any good ones these days. Plus he's not that bad once you get to know him.''

You suddenly stopped in your tracks, unable to move any further. Realisation suddenly dawning over you as you scrunched up your face and groaned.

''What is it?'' Gabby stopped and turned to face you.

''Gabby you're totally right. And I gotta go. I'll explain later.'' you kissed Gabby on the cheek and turned around, running out of the school grounds as quick as you could.

You had a plane to catch.

______________________________

-- Part 5 Here --

Taglist now open 💛 please let me know if you'd like to be added!

@dizzybee03

#miles teller x reader #miles teller #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #top gun rooster #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #top gun fandom #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun fic #top gun maverick fanfiction #romance

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ninjaturtlemaniac · 2 months

Text

Part 10 Trolls Headcanons/ Theories/ Thoughts/ Ideas

This may be my last headcanons list, my friends. Will still do art and stuff but I am fresh outta ideas.

Part1 Part2 Part3 Part4 Part5 Part6 Part7 Part8 Part9

Enjoy 💕

Sub Tribes - KPop/Reggaeton/Yodelers/Chaz etc. there's not many of them around because they came from overseas.

King Peppy - Didn't tell Poppy about Viva because he was in the early stages of dementia. (Canon?) For a while he thought Poppy WAS Viva. By the time he realised his 'mistake', Poppy was already grown.

Vacay Island - the brothers sometimes help Bruce at his restaurant. They have name tags with funny 'work names'. Flood, Big Fish, Classy, and Big Brunch. Viva and Poppy have done the odd shift as well, as Pinky and Vista. 😝

Brozone - they became world famous, argued and left BEFORE the cage went around the Pop Troll Tree. (Canon?)

Brozone - there was a rumoured 'unfinished' Brozone song that was supposed to be released after that tour. John finally finishes it and the brothers offer to sing it for Poppy's bridal entrance song. Poppy immediately faints. In my head the song is 'Helpless When She Smiles' by The Backstreet Boys

Brozone - whatever the Trolls equivalent of the Superbowl is, I feel like Bruce and JD would be very into it. Jerseys and face paint and everything.

Bruce - cameras make him self-conscious. If he is in a group he can tolerate it but hates being the only one in the photo.

Bruce - has caught his kids trying to do the Brozone dance routines. He tries to stay out of it best he can and let them have their fun but then they ask him to teach them and doesn't he just melt.

Bruce - has a wedding ring but it is Vacationer sized. He keeps it in his hair mostly but will braid it into his hair like an accessory for special occasions.

Bruce - 100% certain Poppy and Branch's first born would be a boy. "We're a family of five brothers! It took Brandy and I thirteen tries to have a daughter. Trust me, I have no doubt your first egg will absolutely be a boy." *They have a girl* Bruce 😑

Floyd - can only sleep comfortably near an open window. Sometimes can only sleep sitting up.

Floyd - will randomly stare off into space or mutter to himself.

Floyd - *clears throat* I ship Floom! 💕🏳️‍🌈

Floyd - can't stick to new hobbies for very long, he hyperfixates for a week or two then gets bored. Macrame, candle making, soap making, jewelry making, photography are some examples.

Clay - his brothers collectively tried to convince him that he was the adopted brother.

Clay - is quite squeamish. The sight of vomit, open wounds and bodily fluids; Clay will absolutely pass out. Snotty babies make him very uncomfortable.

Clay - gets Viva to braid his hair out of his face only when something really serious is happening *cracks neck* "Viva?" "Yah?" "Braid me" "Yes, Sir." Shwoooop

Clay - Found out the Classical Trolls have a library larger the Pop Village. "Viva, they have a whole wing dedicated to tragedies! Tragedies, Viva!"

Clay - okay, so he and Viva have never been a couple, even if he ever considered it, their work came first and he didn't want to jeopardize what they had. Buuuuuuuttt the thought that another Troll could one day be Viva's person, that she would go to them instead of him for comfort or ideas or laughs or safety or hugs... it makes Clay feel... weird.

Clay - at some point is named some kinda Troll magazines most eligible bachelor. Bro was in a boyband, co-runs a society of survivors, runs a business, is close friends with royalty, has been knighted, has a license to practice accounting and was part of the only known Perfect Family Harmony. He's apparently a hot commodity now.

John Dory - takes night classes to finally get his highschool diploma. Is too embarrassed to tell anyone until he graduates.

John Dory - doesn't get sick often. But when he does, he keeps going to the point of exhaustion.

John Dory - has indeed crossed paths with Delta Dawn before. Both of them have very different versions of the story. "I serenaded her." "The fool was whining something from the inside of a jail cell."

John Dory - has been known to sleep with his eyes open. Freaks people out.

John Dory - will drink milk straight from the carton and put it back in the fridge.

John Dory - teaches Bruce's kids all the swear words and does in fact tell them his rendition of where eggs come from.

Viva - tries to hide sadder feelings from Poppy. Worried that Poppy won't want to hang out with her if she isn't fun.

Poppy - sometimes feels guilty, if things had been different, Viva would have been Queen. Viva tries to reassure Poppy that she is "The right Troll for the role." 👍🏻 Also Viva tries to argue that they both technically get be Queens now anyway.

Guy Diamond - Trolls have eggs when they have powerful feelings of love. Guy Diamond was able to have Tiny because he loves himself so much.

youtube

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odusseus-xvi · 11 months

Note

Hello helloooo friend! Hi! I just wanted to say that I'll be going around and asking people about QSMP characters to avoid mischaracterization of said characters (in analysis, fics, and just overall fan interpretations). So if you're cool with it, can I ask you about the French streamers?

Like, can you tell me the mischaracterization you often see regarding their characters and how they actually are? I mean, ANY facts about them would be very very cool to know! I love all of them and I would really like to know more about them since I can't really watch everyone, ya kno?

Yes I would love to :D ! But also, keep in mind, I'm not immune to a bit of mischaracterization (that's how you write that right ?), sometimes I probably do a little bit, though I try my best not to. I have to admit, I don't see a lot, or just little things, and mostly from the english side of the community, cause over here with the french we are a really small part of the overall fandom, so I don't have a lot of interactions, AND it's our first (ever) smp like that (semi rp etc...), we never had that over here in France, it's a new thing both for us and the ccs, so we are getting our footing. But here we go I do have some things I can say : (wrote a fricking novel holy)

q!Baghera Jones : I see a lot of people characterize her as this hyper competent investigator that knows everything etc... In a way she is, she is a good investigator, and is always eager to solve the mysteries of the island ; What people miss most of the time is that she is also (it's not mutually exclusive) a Goofball : She sings randomly, she walks on mines and jumps off buildings willingly for the lols, some people say she witholds information, most of the time she actually just Forgor. Something that people do get most of the time is that she genuinely is really empathetic : She loves Walter Bob, two days ago she talked about how Cucurucho may be manipulated, she is worried about Quackity, about Cellbit, Foolish, Jaiden etc... And outside of petty rivalry (mostly with Forever, BBH, Etoiles, and a bit Cellbit) she is not a vengeful person at all. She is very understanding. Oh and almost forgot : She is surprisingly insightful ; She guessed what was happening to Cellbit as one of the firsts, she immediatly figured Gegg out the first day she met Slime, ElQuackity is VERY obviously another person than Quackity at first glance etc...

q!Etoiles : There was for some time a bit of mischaracterization in the way people saw him as a bloodthirsty killing machine, though it is fading steadily as we speak ; He is a really nice person that lifts up others, gift them things whenever he can, cares about the eggs, and is always reactive when it comes to saving or helping others. Also, he is a badass in the eyes of everyone (ccs and fandom) but people have a way to write that in fics that doesn't really match him : They write a badass and dark character that is mostly silent and cool ; Etoiles is NOT that (he is badass yes but not much the rest), he SAYS he is that, that he is "dark, and broody, and mysterious", but the guy is always cracking jokes, about others, about himself, he is very self-aware of his problems (social and health related) and likes to joke about it because "it puts smiles on the faces of people" (his way of cheering people up most of the time : "You are not useless, you put smiles on my and the people's faces, and that wonderful"). The moments that CAN be a bit dark is when he is asking for a fight ; most of the time it's goofy, but then there is moments like the dinner party when the codes revealed themselves, where he will be saying while everyone panics "Yeah... Yeah.. FINALLY ! FINALLY !!" and you realise he is not to be trifled with. He aslo tends to blame himself when something wrong happens ; to him, HE is the one that misplayed, that made a mistake.

q!Aypierre : Some people could see him as a relatively chill dude ; he talks calmly, never screams and very rarely raises his voice, but he is NOT chill : He is the most gremlin of the french, his favorite past-time in all the smps he's been in is pranking and breaking the servers : Two days ago in his 24 hour stream, he broke in the federation base three times, exploded a bunch of stuff in there, tortured Foolish alongside BBH, summoned lightning to make Foosh and BBH believe Gegg is still alive in front of his infinite Gegg generator, rickrolled Cucurucho etc... He is a every ingenuous guy with ways to build factories of everything. Most people, out of the french, would fear Etoiles because he is always begging for a fight, and fought and won against the code several times, but he is a nice guy, who they probably SHOULD fear, is Aypierre, this guy can be EVIL at times ; He loves contracts and deals, and using those against the others. He is not all evil though. He does care about Pomme, the french, and is willing to help others when they need him, though he likes to make exchanges.

q!Antoine Daniel : Antoine is probably the hardest to write or get when you are not used to him. He has such a way of speaking and a weird twisted humor that to someone not french, and not watching his streams regularly, it's REAL hard to get him right. He is an apreciator of dark humor and cynicism ; Joking about Bobby in front of Pomme is an example, though he is starting to be more compassionate about the eggs than he was at the beginning of his journey on the smp. Probably because of one of my posts and some others, a lot of people see him as incredibly paranoïd, and for a time he was, though he said himself (both in and out of character) that it was starting to get better because people came talked to him about it, there IS still remains though. What's interesting is that he can be both paranoïd, AND incredibly insightful : His takes are either the rambling of a madman, or scarily on point. Though he is rarely willing to help others (both because of his next to level 0 skills in minecraft and general air of "I don't care"), he is always on alarm and willing to help when it comes to the eggs, multiple times he ironically is one of the most reactive ones when it comes to realise there is danger or a problem for the eggs ; Though he is relatively self-centered, he is very compassionate and attentive of the eggs, with Pomme potentially being the person he trusts most. (everytime he acts aloof and cynical on his stream, to then immediatly worry about Pomme's well-being warms my heart.)

q!Kamet0 : AHAHAHAHAH ahAHaHhah, ahahah... ahah.. ah. oh. (he left for cigarretes)

(HOLY SHIT I WROTE A NOVEL. Sorry, didn't excpect to have that much to say. But here you go, hope that helps.)

#qsmp #qsmp baghera jones #qsmp antoine daniel #qsmp aypierre #qsmp etoiles #qsmp antoine #qsmp baghera #qsmp france #qsmp french

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dulcesiabits · 11 months

Text

like a flash in the night.

summary: your relationship with bai yi is purely transactional... or she'd like you to believe.

notes: 1.5k words, fic, a commission for @mh8 (who I have to thank for giving me a chance to write about miss bai yi <3), descriptions of violence + lightest suggestive content

Bai Yi was taking advantage of you.

You would be a fool not to realize it; the only time she ever called you was when she needed a favor or a place to crash. You had learned to temper your expectations when your phone rang and Bai Yi’s silky voice was on the other line, when she flirted or wheedled or made another empty promise to treat you to a nice meal (a meal you would, inevitably, end up footing the bill for).

But when she showed up on your doorstep, bruised and cheerful, you still ran to see her, heart pounding.

“You’re an angel!” Bai Yi exclaimed, clasping her hands together dramatically when you swung open the door. “I know you wouldn’t let me down, hm?”

You could slam the door in her face for once, you thought. Tell her to go somewhere else, or to come back when she finally planned on paying back the money she borrowed from you.

But you only sighed at her theatrics, and gestured impatiently for her to come inside. “You can’t keep doing this, Bai. I have a life, and I can’t drop everything to help you every time you run into trouble. What is it this time? Debt collectors? Syndicate gangsters?”

Bai Yi had the decency to slip off her heels before she entered your apartment properly, throwing them carelessly at the doorway. You paused to line them up at the entrance, toes pointing towards the door, as she ambled down the hall as if she owned the place.

“Can’t I come just because I miss you, angel?”

You flushed at the sound of the nickname. “I don’t believe that.”

“Well…”

“Bai,” you said firmly. “What did you do?”

“I may have borrowed some money and promised to pay it back last week…”

“Oh my god.”

“But, ah, I had some emergency expenses to finance, so all of the cash I was going to put towards my loans? Gone! Just like that!”

You doubted she actually had any money to pay the loans back with; more likely than not, she had spent it all on some shady business venture investment and lost all her cash in the process. You followed the sound of her carefree voice down the hall, only to end up in front of your bedroom. Bai Yi was circling your bed, running a finger along the duvet.

“Bai Yi,” you said. “You’re on the run from loan sharks? Again?”

She shrugged, before diving onto your bed. “Yup! K.K. will get it all sorted out, though, so don’t even worry about it.”

“Bai–”

“I’m tired from being on the run. Angel, could you please close the door for me?”

You watched as Bai Yi pulled your comforter over herself, head sinking into the pillows you had fluffed just that morning.

“At least take off your street clothes!” you said, exasperated.

“Sorry, angel. If you want to get me naked, you’ll have to try harder.”

You shut your bedroom door irritably. It looked like it would be another night sleeping on the couch for you.

ii.

“Bai Yi, I swear to god, if you make me lose my apartment, I am going to toss you to MBCC myself!”

“Angel, don’t be so hasty! Don’t things always work out for us?”

You growled, biting back a string of curses as Bai Yi’s motorcycle cut around a corner so sharply your head almost touched the warm asphalt. The breeze whipped away her laughter; even in a situation where the two of you were on the run from Syndicate loan sharks, Bai Yi couldn’t take a single second of it seriously.

“Fuck!” you yelled as the motorcycle jostled over a pothole and swerved around a pedestrian, who screamed bloody curses after you two.

“You have to hold onto me tighter,” Bai Yi instructed, eyes still glued to the road. “Try not to cop a feel.”

“You’re disgusting. I’m not–” Another sharp turn, another close brush with the pavement where your head almost cracked like an egg, and you decided you could save the witty remarks before your brains ended scrambled up all over the streets of Syndicate.

Reluctantly, you looped your arms around Bai Yi’s waist, so tightly you could feel her muscles tensing under her skin, feel the rumble of her laughter echo straight into your heart as she sped through narrow roads and dark alleyways. You rested your head against her back, squeezing your eyes shut as you nuzzled against her jacket. She smelled like sun-warmed leather, and cheap alcohol, and something you couldn’t quite place– it was the smell of the city itself, of cracked pavements and the faint tang of blood.

She had always promised to take you out for a spin on her bike, but you never imagined she would fulfill under such strenuous circumstances.

You couldn’t help but smile a little into her jacket. As unreliable as Bai Yi was, she had always shown you a good time.

iii.

You had never seen that expression on Bai Yi’s face before.

She was always ready with an easy smile or an over-dramatic frown to flash at you. Sometimes you forget just how strong she really was. It was strange to see her mouth so thin, her gaze cold and calculating, a barely-contained anger edging all of her words. She was like a predator, ready to strike at the first sign of weakness, power and tension rolling under her skin.

“They have nothing to do with this,” she said slowly. “Let them go.”

The gangster holding a knife at your throat barked out a wheezy laugh. “Listen, Bai Yi. They–” He yanked you closer to the knife, metal scraping your throat, and Bai Yi’s eyes tracked him “--got involved as soon as they met you.”

Her hand twitched on the handle of her swords, and the gangster hissed, pressing the blade into the skin of your neck, just enough for you to gasp at the sudden pain as a trickle of blood trailed onto your collarbone.

That must have been the final straw for Bai Yi. She snarled, and in the space between one blink and the next, the gangster’s head was lying on the floor, his face still frozen in a haughty grimace.

You couldn’t even call it a fight; it was a one-sided slaughter. Everytime you blinked, there was another head rolling on the floor, another body crumpling like a broken doll. In under a minute, Bai Yi was calmly wiping the blood off her swords with a coat ripped off a nearby corpse, before sheathing them into their scaboards.

That strange, intense expression still hadn’t faded off her face as she strode towards you, anger still vibrating in every inch of her body.

“Are you okay?” she said. Her fingers drifted towards your face, as if she wanted to touch you; but they only hovered over your skin as complicated emotions warred across her face, each flashing by too fast for you to gauge what they were.

You shook your head; you were still trying to process what just happened, but the shock must have caught up to you, because your legs gave way. Bai Yi easily caught you before you could fall. Her grip was surprisingly strong but gentle, and her arm curled protectively around you, pulling you closer towards her body.

“Let’s go home,” she said softly. “You need some rest.”

“Bai, I–”

“Don’t say anything,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry. I should have known better than to bring trouble to your door.”

You nodded, and the two of you simply stood like that for a while. When you moved to step away, her hands lingered, as if she wanted to hold you close to her forever.

“Next time,” you said slowly, as Bai Yi led you towards her motorcycle, “You have to treat me to dinner at a restaurant. A nice one.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” she said.

“No. You’re going to be the one to ask me,” you replied. You thought she might have smiled, but you couldn’t be sure.

iv.

Che folded his arms as he surveyed the apartment building across from the alley he, K.K. and Bai Yi were lurking in. “So you want me to stake out this place?”

“Just for the next few weeks,” Bai Yi said. “Make sure the, ah, person I told you about doesn’t meet with any trouble.”

“Why this place, Bai Yi?” K.K. said curiously. “Don’t tell me you borrowed from another loan shark.”

Che rolled his eyes. “It’s not like that, K.K. This is where the boss’s secret lover lives.”

“Her what?” K.K. hissed.

“We’re not in that kind of relationship,” Bai Yi said lightly.

Che appraised her, raising one eyebrow. “You sure?”

“I don’t get attached. You know that, Che. Come on! It would be sad for all the gorgeous women in Syndicate if I settled down so easily, don’t you think?”

Don’t get attached, my ass. Why do you look at them like that, then? Che bit back his words; Bai Yi knew her feelings best, and if she didn’t have a reason for revealing them, then neither did he.

The trio gave one last glance at the apartment complex, Bai Yi’s lingering on a particular window on the third floor, before they vanished into the night.

#liya writes #path to nowhere #bai yi #bai yi x reader #path to nowhere x reader #x reader #BAI YI BAI YIIIII #RIPS OPEN MY SHIRT. OH MY GOD AHH AHHHHHHHH #im normal.#AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #shes everything 2. me.

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foern · 4 months

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hii!! how are you doing?? this is my first time so i applogize if i lack of details/u have a hard time understanding this. May i request for Tokyo Revengers (Mitsuya, Draken, Rindou) where they compliment or just appreciates s/o but she just cries when she heard ut? she kinda barely got attention and praises like that so it kind of melts her heart

they can be like normally say "im so grateful for you" "ur so pretty", but s/o just cries as a response HAHDHSJA I wanna know what theyd do or react, if thats okay ofc! i apologize if im dosturbing your time, i hope u have a great day!

~😻

Anon tysm for this request! I had a lot of fun writing it! I haven’t really read the Manga, so I don’t think I know enough about Rindou to write for him. I replaced him with Mikey, I hope that's okay!

Sorry this id kind of short and took forever, ive been super busy (literally moved to another continent). Anyway, hope you like it!

———————————————————————

Mikey

Mikey’s eyes followed you as you busied yourself in the kitchen, grabbing ingredients to prepare breakfast for the two of you—bacon and eggs. Distracted, you cracked an egg into the hot pan, oblivious to Mikey’s intense gaze. The morning sun streamed through the windows, casting a radiant glow on everything it touched, including you. With messy hair from sleep, clad in Mikey’s sweatshirt, and a bare face, you looked absolutely stunning.

“You’re so pretty.” Your gaze swiftly met the blonde-haired boy's; his eyes sparkled, and a warm, admiring smile graced his lips. There was no doubt in the world that he was anything but sincere.

“Don’t be stupid.” You mumble, an obvious blush creeping its way onto your cheeks. Truth be told, you felt completely hideous that day. Your hair was an unbrushed mess, you had no makeup on, and you were still in your pajamas. A wave of insecurity washed over you; a heavy weight settled itself on your chest. As tears welled up in your eyes you turned back to the eggs, unwilling to let Mikey see you cry.

“Hey, hey, hey, why the tears?” Mikey stands up from his chair and steps in front of me. He rests his hand on my waist, rubbing soothing circles into my skin. The words catch in my throat, making it impossible to articulate the emotions flooding over me. Truth be told, I don't even know why I'm crying. His free hand gently lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

"You're beautiful," he reassures, his thumb moving from my chin to caress my lip, "Especially when you're making me breakfast."

——————————————————————

Mitsuya

I delicately run my fingers across the luxurious texture of my dress, savoring the sensation of the soft fabric across my skin. My gaze takes in every detail of the meticulously crafted garment—each stitch, every contour, a testament to its thoughtful design. A nervous smile graces my lips as I turn to meet Takashi’s gaze.

“What do you think?” I ask, my voice carrying a mix of anticipation and vulnerability. A faint blush creeps over my face as I catch him admiring my silhouette. His response, a simple yet sincere "You look absolutely stunning," sends a rush of warmth through me.

His bluntness catches me off guard for a moment. I never really grew up receiving compliments, so even now, they have the power to surprise me. A warm weight settles into my chest as an unexpected wave of emotion washes over me. The confident smile I wore earlier fades, replaced by a genuine, slightly flustered one. Rising from his chair, he makes his way towards me.

As he stands before me, placing a hand gently on my hip and the other softly on my cheek, I can't help but marvel at the tenderness in his touch. I hadn't realized a tear was rolling down my face until he wiped it away with his thumb. My heart melts at this action, his eyes never leaving mine. His unwavering, concerned gaze causes my tears to flow more steadily.

“You mean it?” I manage to utter, my voice carrying a mix of disbelief and gratitude. I honestly don’t know why I’m crying, but in this moment, none of that matters. He shakes his head with a reassuring nod. His hand guides me into a comforting hug, the type you never want to leave. “Of course, but I don’t know why you’re crying though. I think it means I should just compliment you more often.”

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev headcanons #tokyo rev x reader #manjiro sano x reader #takashi mitsuya #mitsuya takashi #mitsuya x reader #tokyo revengers fluff

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thesensteawitch · 7 months

Text

Pick A Pile Reading

A Message Meant To Reach You!🕊️

(Left to Right- Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3)

Hey, Senstea Souls!

I am back with another collective reading. It's a general reading so take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

Feel free to DM me in case of any queries. Bookings are open!

Pile 1

Animal Spirit- Sea Serpent

Tarot Cards- The Chariot, Judgement, Queen of Wands, Seven of Swords, The World, Two of Wands

Did you take a wrong turn in life, pile 1? Or a dangerous road. A road that was all about our darkest of desires and you were meant to rescue something good that was stuck in a loophole. Your cards are very positive but I sense that someone stole something from you and it weakened your ability to communicate your truth. But the good thing is that the Universe wants you to know that soon you'll enter into the phase of rebirth. You'll be freed. I feel you have been planning something for a very long time. You developed this plan based on many experiences you have had. There's an assurance that your plan is going to work. What you want is coming. You are soon going to complete a full circle. I hear, “Some mistakes get made that's alright that's okay, in the end, it's better for me that's the moral of the story babe.” The color blue is prominent in your reading. You may be seeing a lot of butterflies. A huge change is coming into your life. Something is finally ending. Perhaps your old self. The moment you tell you truth and you say what's there in your mind you'll see a page turning in your life. You'll soon come face to face with a traitor. It can be a thought or a real person. Communicate and the fog will be cleared. You are divinely protected, pile 1. You just need to have your desires in control and let your creativity flow freely. Soon you'll free yourself of all the judgements. Make sure you do not take a wrong turn. Stay on your path. I hope this helped. See you soon! If you want more clarity regarding this situation or any other feel free to check out my rate card and book your reading.

Important chakras: Throat and Sacral.

Pile 2

Animal spirit- Raccoon

Cards- Temperance, Four of Pentacles, Queen of Swords, The Fool, Queen of Wands, Judgement

Pile 2, you are going to be blessed in such a way that you won't be able to grab everything at once. You'll receive so much praise and abundance that they will overflow and others will be picking them up for you. If something especially a relationship was going downhill then know that resolution is coming. Have faith but keep your balance. Don't cheat. Don't pretend to have faith. Have patience. Don't be a cat who cannot help but run after a rat as soon she lays eyes on him. Your words hold power currently. You may observe that whatever you say will manifest itself. So make sure you think twice before saying anything. But at the same time use it for the best. Manifest with good intentions. Your affirmations are working if you have been affirming. Whatever is changing know that it's all you. You are bringing a change in your life. Some of you may be writing or speaking a lot lately or have the urge to do so. Some of you may even be musicians. Just don't be too stubborn about your art. Art is flexible. It can move in any direction as it gives you uncountable perceptions. Some of you may still be struggling with money. The push and pull between you and your art is coming to an end. Soon you'll see a clear picture. Trust the process and more importantly trust yourself. You may feel overwhelmed currently or in the coming days. Keep your emotional meter in check. Don't get it cracked up. I also see movement. Some of you may be moving houses. Stay true to your words, pile 2, and own your true self. I hope this helped. See you soon! If you want more clarity regarding this situation or any other feel free to check out my rate card and book your reading.

Pile 3

Animal Spirit- Cosmic Egg

Cards- Queen of Swords, Queen of Cups, Nine of Pentacles, King of Wands, 5 of Swords, Ten of Wands

Words mean a lot to you, pile 2. You know it because all day you are somehow surrounded by them. You feel that your words hold power. And they definitely do. I see a group of friends. Though honest, your words sometimes make people upset. You need to be very careful. I see that some of you are working on a project and perhaps 3 people were involved in it. You very well know the plan of action. What to do and what not to do. Your commands may feel threatening to others. That's why some people do not want you to boss them. But clearly, you deserve to be in charge. You can work alone pretty well though, just like a magician. You have all the knowledge to work by yourself and ace it. But you are so deeply hurt that the work now seems like too much to handle. As soon as you let go of bitter emotions you will be able to create what you were supposed to since the beginning. This journey will be alone and slow but it'll definitely bear fruits. Nine months from now you'll be grateful that you did it alone. It's between you and the universe now. Universe will take care of the rest for you. It cares for you as much as it does for those who believe in it. Don't underestimate yourself pile 3. Within a few months, you are going to be blessed with abundance. You'll achieve your goals and it will all be self-made. Put your work aside for a while and take a break. Release the negative emotions or grudges you hold. And then begin again. You'll ace whatever you were working on. I sense strong air and fire sign energy. Don't unnecessarily make your working space crowded when you have the capability to make things work on your own. I hear, “I am not gonna make it alone.” You are not alone, pile 3. We meet so many people in this lifetime. You'll find the perfect match for you too. Till then know that you aren't alone. You never were. I read a quote, “We are carried. In bellies. In arms. In love. In hope. In caskets. In urns. In grief. In memories. Our whole lives and into the next. We are carried.” I hope this helped. See you soon! If you want more clarity regarding this situation or any other feel free to check out my rate card and book your reading.

#pick a pile reading #pick a pile tarot #free tarot reading #a message #meant to be #tarot reader #tarot cards #tarot reading #tarotblr #pick a pile #tarotcommunity #message for the collective #general reading #tarot readings #fire signs #air signs #water signs #earth signs

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lobstermobster-95 · 11 months

Text

Down in the Wicked Depths Below

Woe to the man

The dark-eyed sailor

Ship’s adrift

And the sea’s his jailor

Drag him down

Down, down, down

Down in the wicked depths below

Woe to the man

The dark-eyed sailor

Ship’s adrift

And the sea’s his jailor

Drag him down

Down, down, down

Down in the wicked depths below

Lost at sea, the sailor cried

I will not die

The sea shall bow to me

“That was quite a display,” Finnegrin said as he rummaged through the piles of assorted junk on his desk. His gruff voice drowning out the singing voices of the crew on deck. “All that talk about how love makes you stronger, but the second you see that elf girl in pain, you completely lost yourself.”

Callum looked away.

The tidebound captain wasn’t wrong. Seeing Rayla like that – writhing and screaming in pain, skin turning blue as if she were already dead – it did something to him. Just like it always did something to him when he thought he’d lost her.

That spell had simultaneously caused a pain in Callum that was so deep that he couldn’t think or see straight. He’d forgotten any spells or tricks that could have helped him and instead did the only thing he could think of.

It had at least been a solid hit – something his younger self would be in awe of for several reasons. A lot of good it had done him though.

At that moment, Callum caught sight of Bait’s empty cage and for a terrible, brief second, thought perhaps the little guy had already been cast into the depths. However, Finnegrin stepped aside and revealed the glow toad had been crammed into another smaller cage.

“What are you doing?” Callum asked, feeling confident he already knew the answer.

“Oh, don’t worry. The cage is for his protection,” the captain replied with a smug smile. “This way, he lures us a leviathan but doesn’t get eaten.”

He crossed the room and stood before Callum, looking down at him with the black-hearted confidence of a man who had spilled more than his fair share of blood. “The one getting thrown into the sea serpent’s hungry mouth is your elf girl.”

He may as well have been strapped to an anchor and dropped into the sea for how quickly Callum became submerged in the crushing weight of dread and panic. He struggled against the chains that bound him to the post, but there was no give.

He couldn’t lose Rayla. Not again. Not ever again.

“No, no wait!” The words leapt from his tongue without his consent. “A dying breath, blood filled with hatred, and a unicorn horn. That’s the dark magic you want. Just…just let her go.”

They could deal with the ramifications. They would find a way to protect Domina Profundis, but Callum had to protect Rayla first.

A beat passed as Finnegrin paused in the doorway before he began to click his tongue in disappointment like a parent about to scold their child. “Oh, my poor lad,” he said. “That deal was no longer on the table.” He chuckled, pulling the door open and quickly disappearing through it, leaving Callum alone as he sunk even deeper into despair.

“No!” He called out to no avail. “No!”

Again he struggled and again the chains around his wrists did not budge.

Hot tears began cutting their way down his cheeks. This was really it. Rayla would die and a piece of him would die right alongside her. They had only just begun to truly mend their relationship. The last few weeks began replaying in Callum’s mind

Staying in his and Ez’s old, adjoining rooms had been his idea. After Umber Tor, he’d shed the last piece of the already-cracked and crumbling armor he’d built around his heart over the last two years. He’d opened himself back up to her, and it was wonderful. They’d often stayed up late during those nights, fretting over Ezran and the others or just talking like they used to.

Then they’d traveled to Lux Aurea, retracing the steps they’d taken together on that first world-changing journey. The route had been easier this time. There was no dragon egg to hide and protect, no duplicitous aid from Soren and Claudia, and no race to outrun an impending battle with Viren’s corrupted army.

And with the border open, the route itself had become more traveled, leading to amenities like the inn they’d stayed at. Seeing Rayla happy and at peace that night had filled Callum’s heart in a way it hadn’t been in two years. He’d wanted to kiss her again, to hold her and tell her he loved her.

Now he desperately wished he had.

He could hear shouts and thuds from above him and his heart began to pound. He didn’t have much time.

Looking around for something, anything he could use to free himself, Callum spotted it. The slug Finnegrin had offered as a dark magic conduit.

No. No he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

He’d sworn to himself that he would never do dark magic again. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t who he wanted to be. He’d vowed to write his own destiny.

…But what would that destiny look like without Rayla?

The question seared his heart like a brand because he knew the answer immediately. Without Rayla, he had no destiny. If he allowed her to die when there was something, anything , he could have done to save her, the anguish would fester in his body like a blight and consume him from the inside out.

He would do anything for her.

Anything.

Pulling against the chains one last time, Callum reached out and grabbed the slug.

The sunrise was beautiful, almost mockingly so after all that had happened the night before.

Callum sat at the base of the mast, feeling no modicum of triumph or elation at their victory. He felt like a liar, a sham. He was the first human mage to do primal magic and still he’d resorted to dark magic.

He thought he was better than this. But was he? Was he any better than Viren or Claudia if he would dirty his hands with the lives of innocent creatures if pushed far enough?

“So…” Came a voice through the fog. “Two primal sources? Now you’re just getting greedy, mister mage.”

Callum saw Rayla as she sat down next to him, felt the warmth of her living, breathing body, but he didn’t feel any less ashamed. If she knew what he’d done to save her, she’d be disgusted and furious, as she should be.

“Callum, are you okay?”

Was he? He let the question sink deep before nodding his head and letting his eyes finally unfocus from the abyss he’d been staring into.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling a smile up along with him. “Yeah, I’m okay. I am.”

He looked at Rayla as she smiled back at him, his heart feeling full and complete as she brought a hand up to his cheek.

“I’m glad,” she said softly.

She pulled him into a hug and Callum felt guilt wrap itself around him along with her arms. Below them, somewhere in the guts of the hull, two dark magic snakes now slithered and slunk because he’d brought them to life.

He’d broken his oath, and as Rayla sighed contentedly, holding Callum like she had when they’d first fallen in love, he knew that he would do it again in a heartbeat to save her.

And that’s what scared him more than anything.

#tdp #the dragon prince #tdp spoilers #tdp season 5 #rayllum #angst #i wasnt ready #stayed up all night #ahhhh

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chouxsardine · 6 months

Text

Ticked (all my boxes) — Jake Kiszka x reader

Summary: It's December 24th, but you've still got so much to do. --A look into y/n's Christmas Eve with Jake in the form of a to-do list

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 5655

Warnings: not much, mentions of alcohol, nearly 6k of PURE FLUFF

Genre: holiday fic, tooth-rotting fluff

Tips: Some may prefer an uninterrupted reading experience, but I have linked some visual cues to the specific items mentioned in the fic so you can better visualize them. You can click when you see an underlined word. Please suit yourself :)

Author's note: This is my GVF Secret Santa gift for @nina-23-45 (if you are Nina, please click here for A Letter from Santa; Sorry for the wait!!). This is the longest fic I've written. As challenging as it is, I honestly had so much fun writing it, it has certainly helped me find the joy of writing again, and I wish to share it with all of you. I hope you are staying cozy, happy, and healthy. Happy holidays. This is a long one, so grab your hot cocoa, make yourself comfy, snuggle with your pets, put on some of your favourite holiday tunes, and...enjoy!!

🎧: everyone has their own favourite Christmas songs, so take your pick! But I do recommend listen to Cause We've ended as Lovers by Jeff Beck when you have time

7:00 AM You crack open an eye. The red digital numbers on the bedside clock becomes clearer in your vision. You try to move and feel Jake’s arm wrapped protectively around your midsection. You turn your head slightly, and there is your lover: his hair covering half of his face, breathing long and even, soundly asleep like some royal prince from a medieval oil painting, although you know he’d probably prefer to look like a pirate with a pipe hanging out of his mouth, if he had the choice. The thought of that brings a smile to your face. You manage to escape from Jake’s hug without waking him up, moving one frame at a time like a character in a slowed-down stop motion film. Jake lets out a grunt as you finally climb out of bed. You hold your breath nervously, but he doesn’t stir, just rubs his cheek further into the pillow. You place a feathery kiss on his temple and tiptoe downstairs.

You were never a morning person, but tomorrow is Christmas and you know it is going to be a long day of preparation. You put the kettle on, taking out two mugs from the cupboard, and find yourself staring eye to eye with Blackbeard. That’s the mug you got for Jake when you started living together. He has been using it ever since. He even drinks whiskey out of it. (“No one drinks whiskey out of a mug, Jake.” “I’m the Captain, I make ship happens if I want to!” refutes Jake in his Oliver Reed voice)

The whistling kettle pulls back your attention. You pour the boiling water over the tea bags. The living room is dimly lit. A certain kind of dimness mixed with a humidity that is unique to winter days. You peak through the blinds, the snow has stopped; everything is covered in white.

You stand in front of the open fridge as a pair of arms snake around your waist, following by Jake’s chin resting on your shoulder.

“Morning, beautiful.”

“Hmm, it’s still very early. Did I wake you up?” You reach your hand back to ruffle up his hair.

“Nope, the bed is just cold without you.”

“What do you want for breakfast, anything that caught your eye?” Holding the fridge door open without taking further action is your guilty pleasure; you feel like an old Duchess inspecting her prized jewelry collection.

“Dunno. Omelet?” You’re not even sure if Jake’s eyes are open from how sleepy his voice sounds.

“Sure, but only if you are making it. I can never get them to the right texture and it pisses me off!” You scold dramatically as you retrieve the eggs.

“Uh-uh, can’t have a pissed-off y/n for Christmas,” Jake takes over the carton, “but I do know she makes some killer sausage patties.”

Lord, this man knows how to hype you up, even when it’s the simplest task of throwing some pre-cooked frozen meat into the oven.

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are sitting at the table. You sink your fork into a piece of omelet. Upon tasting it, your eyes light up immediately. The outside maintains its shape with lightly crispy edges while the inside melts away in a creamy concoction.

“Jake, this tastes like liquid sun!” You compliment in awe.

Jake snorts out a chuckle at your analogy, trying to wave it off, despite the fact that he is obviously flustered. As the good girlfriend that you are, of course you won’t let go of the chance to tease him. So you wave you fork like a baton and hum your improvised tune: “Jakey boy did it again, oh he done did it again!”

This time Jake is full-on laughing. “Come on, y/n. It’s just an omelet.”

“How dare you?” You gasp, pretending to be offended. “This is not JUST an omelet, this omelet has…” you lower your voice and flutter your fingers around the food, “rock star magic in it!”

What a nice way to start off the day, you think as you chew on another forkful of egg, certainly worth sacrificing some sleep.

✅ A nice morning with a full belly.

10:00 AM You push and the wooden door opens with a jingle and a creak. You hurry inside and are wrapped in a warm embrace of the musty smell of paper and expired mothballs. The ruddy-cheeked old man behind the counter looks up from the tome in front of him and greets you warmly: “Good morning, dear.”

“Morning, Mr. Friesen.” You hold your freezing fingers near the wood stove that stands in the centre of the room. “It’s so cold out there today.”

“On the brighter side, we get a white Christmas, ain’t so lucky last year.”

Friesen’s is your favourite second-hand book store around town. You have been a regular since freshman year in college, and you have lost count of how much money you saved by relying on the old textbooks you found here. Naturally, you have acquainted yourself with its friendly and mysterious owner. Mr. Friesen is quite the myth and legend himself. From his conversation with customers that you’ve accidentally eavesdropped over the years, you pieced together that he used to be the frontman of a rock band in the 70s before one of his bandmates sadly passed away in an accident. He opened the bookshop as an extension of his basement collection thirty years ago.

“I have the books here for you. They are still in decent condition, a rare find these days. Whoever’s getting them must be lucky.”

One good thing about the Friesen’s is that if there’s something specific you’re looking for, you can always request it. There’s no guarantee, but Mr. Friesen will try his best; and this man never disappoints. A few weeks ago, you asked him to keep an eye out for any American classics: Hemingway, Fitzgerald and the like, planning to give them to Josh as his Christmas present. You were losing hope until you received a last-minute call from the bookshop, telling you that a rare first edition of John Steinbeck’s Cannery Row is ready for you to pickup.

“I honestly can’t thank you enough. You’re such a gem,” you smile. “And I have a little Christmas present for you as well.” You pull out a wrapped vinyl from your tote bag.

“Oh you don’t have to do that, my dear,” Mr. Friesen peels back the wrapping paper. “Oh! Phil Sector’s Christmas Album, I don’t have this one yet. What a nice addition to my collection. Thank you, y/n.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Friesen. It’s the least I can do. You’ve always been so kind to me.”

The old man hums before looking up at you somewhat smugly. “Now, excuse me for being nosy, but how’s it going with that rock star boyfriends of yours?”

Despite being together for so long and being open about your relationship, you still blush when people mention Jake as your boyfriend in public. You have brought Jake to the bookstore before, while things between you were still platonic. If Mr. Friesen sensed anything then, he never let it show.

Taking in your expression, Mr. Friesen beams meaningfully, “Well, I think he’s a lucky guy. You can always tell from a person’s appearance when they’re with the right one, and I can see it in you. I’ll say he’s a keeper, that kid.”

“That’s such a nice thing for you to say,” you reply shyly.

“Well, I shouldn’t be keeping you any longer. It seems like someone is already waiting,” Mrs. Friesen motions outside the window. You follow his gaze and see Jake standing across the street.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Friesen. Thank you again.”

“Anytime, kiddo. Merry Christmas.”

Outside the bookshop, Jake is kicking a chunk of ice between his feet while he waits for you.

“Do You have everything you need?” You ask.

“Yes. Do you?” he holds out his elbow and you happily hook your arm through it.

“Yup.” You show him the book wrapped in brown paper.

“Huh,” He huffs in a playfully offended voice, “someone’s got the good stuff this year.”

You slight elbow him in the ribs. “Hoy, you green-eyed monster, that’s because Josh’s on the good list this year.”

“Oh, is that so? How did I make it onto the naughty list then?”

“The possibilities are endless!” You exaggerate, holding out your hands to count, “first, for being the sexy little swine that you are…”

You and Jake could probably go on like this forever if weren’t for the fact that you’re arriving at your destination. To finish some last minute Christmas shopping is the only reason that you are outside on such a cold day. You and Jake have decided to “divide and conquer”, with you going to the bookshop to pick up Josh’s gift and Jake going to the liquor store to for some nice Prosecco for the family gathering tomorrow. Then, you will go to the mall together to pick up the present for your cousin.

Rewind to about an hour ago:

As much as your cousin is a sweetheart, it is a real pain to buy Christmas presents for her. And as the procrastinator that you are, of course, you put it off until the last minute to make decisions. Last but not the least, you comfort yourself. Now the time has come for you to have a taste of your own medicine. You were unconsciously tugging your hair as you stared at the coffee table, furrowing your eyebrows deep in concentration.

“Why do you look worried?” Jake plopped down onto the couch next to you.

“I still haven’t got a present for my cousin.” You rubbed your temple and groaned. “I feel like she’s got everything. Everyone always says, ‘oh it’s not about the gift’, but I couldn’t go to her empty handed! I mean, it’s Christmas, people are expecting gifts anyways.”

“Actually, if you don’t mind, I think I have an idea.” Jake reached for his phone and you perked up.

“I saw this the other day, do you think it will suit her?” Jake showed you a picture of what happens to be a magnetic key holder. “Ronnie has mentioned it before, and I saw it at the mall the other day. Didn’t you tell me that your cousin just got her own place earlier this month? It could be a nice housewarming slash Christmas gift.”

“No, you didn’t! ” You almost jolted up from the sofa. “Aww, thank you, Jake! you don’t have to do that!”

“That’s okay, love, anything that takes worries away from my girl.” He beams back at you. “Now we just need to go to the store to pick it up.”

You have always known Jake for being the most caring and attentive lover. But this is on a whole another level. The fact that he even keeps the most mundane trifles you blurt out in mind shows how much he cares. You have already been deeply incorporated into his life, his every decisions now will always include the factor of “you”. The thought makes your heart melt.

Therefore, here you are now, standing in front of the mall entrance.

Although Jake has made your task a thousand times easier, you still hated going into the mall. The crowd, the music, all the right ingredients for sensory overload.

“Last-minute Christmas shopping, yeah?”

“Okay, deep breath,” Jake holds both of your hands in his, eyes shining with encouragement. “I know the exact shelf it’s on. We’ll go in and out, quick as a bunny, a Christmas Bunny, alright?”

“Yeah, okay, we can do this.” You nod.

“One, two, three….go!”

And like Mario Karts you two set off.

You are sure there are people passing by watching you two adults giggling and pushing through the revolving doors like you are lunatics, but you don’t give a hoot. You love embracing your inner child from time to time, and you just happen to be so lucky to have the right person who makes you feel at ease doing so.

✅ Drop off vinyl and pick up the book for Josh at Friesen’s Christmas present for (your cousin’s name)

2:15 PM The film is still playing in the background, you must’ve fallen asleep. See, you just know that waking up too early isn’t for you.

You feel exhausted after your gift-hunting excursion, so you decide to watch a film together while snacking on some chips. Your Christmas movie list is like no other—none of the fluffy rom coms like The Holidays or Love Actually, also no household classics like Home Alone or Miracle on 34th Street. To be fair, you have nothing against them, you just prefer something that brings more of an adrenaline rush. Therefore, your picks consist mainly of psychological thrillers and horror movies. You remember feeling apprehensive when you first told Jake about it, thinking it would be weird for a girl to choose The Shining over Titanic. But Jake is completely unbothered. Instead, he loves that about you. “Love my girl quirky,” is how he had put it. “And I get to hold you if you’re scared.” (You always protest that you’re not, but sometimes you do, and you have to admit it does feel nice to have someone’s shirt to bury your face into just in case some scenes get too intense for your liking). Actually, you think now you’ve successfully gotten Jake into it as well. He especially likes to plague you with his theories after you have finished the movie, turned off the lights, and snuggled under the duvets. (“But do you think he really killed her? I mean, what if—-” “Jake, enough!”)

But now, art kind of imitates life. The house feels weirdly empty and quiet. Jake is no where in sight.

“Jake?” Not in the bathroom. Not in his studio in the basement. Not in the garage either.

Just as you are staring to wonder if this is some kind of prank, you look outside the window and saw a familiar figure in the backyard. Jake was standing near the fence, fumbling with something. His back is turned against you, so you couldn’t figure out what he is doing.

It starts snowing again. The crisp air outdoor whips all the sleepiness clear from your head. You wrap your arm around yourself and walk towards Jake. He must be really focused on whatever he is doing because he didn’t hear you approaching at all. Now you are standing close enough to see clearly.

He uses a gift card to scoop up some snow, flattens it with his palm, and then adheres the now thin slice of snow to a stick. There are already layers attached to it; the shape of it somewhat resembles a flower.

“Jake, what are you doing up here?”

Jake spins around. For a moment, he wears the expression of a child being caught red-handed stealing cookies from the countertop. And then you see what he is holding in his hand.

It is a half-finished rose, but made of snow.

“Shh, it’s almost done. Just give me a moment.” Jake has that serious look on his face, the same one on stage when he was looking down at his guitar through hooded eyes, a slight crease at the inner corner of his eyebrows; his lips pressed, showing his Marionette lines. His long eyelashes give the false impression that he has his eyes closed.

The snows has accumulated over night and reached a rather firm texture, which is idea for shaping. But it is also naturally brittle. Even if you are not the one making it, you can tell that it requires one to find the sweet spot between melting the snow and wetting it just enough so that it sticks. You see Jake’s hand red with cold and your heart wrenches at the sight. He doesn’t seem to care at all. You want stop him right there, but something about his demeanour tells you that he really wants to show you the result.

It seems that Jake got the gist of it pretty quickly. He repeats the process a few more times and there it is, a rose made of snow. The layered petals hug around the bud, its edges crystal and flimsy like cicadas’ wings. He picks it up by the stem carefully and extends it to you.

“Here, a rose for my dearest.”

You are too stunned to speak, struck by the beauty frozen in time. You don’t know where he gets the idea from, but it is such an endearing gesture, him leaving the warm bedside of his soundly asleep lover, standing in the cold, molding snow with his bare hands, just so that he could surprise her.

“I…I love this so much. Thank you, Jake.”

When you look up at Jake, your eyes are stinging with tears. The tip of Jake’s nose is frozen red, as well as his cheeks. He was looking at you with a toothy grin. As cliché as it may sound, Jake truly came into your life like a knight in an armour made of starlight. Being in a relationship with him has taught you so much more about growth, trust, and loyalty. He adores and cherishes you with all his heart. He will always make an effort for you, will always firmly choose you and stand by you to support you. Shy he maybe, when he loves, he never holds back. A single rose has always meant the words, “I love you”; it holds all his love.

“Don’t cry, my dear, your tears are gonna freeze too. I wanted you to be happy.” Jake coos, wiping away your tears. The coldness of his thumb reminds you of you shouldn’t be wasting more time on stupid tears and Jake should get his hands warmed up.

“Wait here!” You yell over your shoulder as you run inside the house. Don’t even bother taking off your wet boots; you grab a Tupperware and a piece of styrofoam laying around from the gift wrappings and rush back out.

“This is going to live in my fridge forever.”

Jake laughs as he helps you stab the snapped stem onto the styrofoam to secure the rose in the container. “It is truly amazing how romance always resides in the ephemeral and transient things. It is lucky that we still have eyes that can see and a heart that is still beating to appreciate them.”

“Yes, but not everyone is lucky to have this kind of beauty and happiness captured for them, though.” You put his hands into the pocket of your coat as you walk back inside, “Oh, Jakey boy, what have I done to deserve you?”

✅ A snow rose. This one is uncalled for, but hey, what’s a to-do list if there wasn’t some surprise interruption, especially when it’s an incredibly precious one like this.

7:45 PM You have been checking on your snow rose every time you open the fridge (which is very often), like checking on the pet goldfish you’ve got in kindergarten.

“Baby, you know it’s not gonna grow legs and run away, right?” Jake leans against the kitchen counter. “With that much snow out there, I could just make you another—-”

“Don’t you dare risk those money makers for things like this again!” You give him a pointed look. You have been babying Jake’s hands since the moment you got back inside: running them under lukewarm water, submerging them in a basin of warm water with essential oil, rubbing and massaging his fingers to accelerate blood circulation, you even made him apply some coconut-scented hand cream (“My hands smell like piña colada”). Jake has to assure you thrice or even more times that he feels just fine, but still, you give him that suspicious “mom” look. (“Y/n, I promise you my hands are fine. They are strong guitar fingers, they can hold against a little chills. Plus, I’ve broken my arm before and——-” “Shhhhh! Knock on wood, Jake!”)

“Anyways, I think the cookie dough should be done chilling. Do you mind taking them out after you’ve done inspecting your rose, my love?”

You are baking some cookies for the family gathering tomorrow. You have found a recipe for Aquarium Cookies, which upgrades the traditional stained glass cookies by pressing two of them together and creating some space in between for sprinkles. You are also going to bake some regular sugar cookies using the instrument-shaped cookie cutters you bought, one symbol for each boy.

Baking is your favourite Christmas activities. It warms up the house—both temperature and atmosphere-wise, and makes it smell like a bakery. And nothing beats decorating cookies.

Think about it, a gingerbread house is too limited, and let’s be honest, half of it mostly ended up in the stomachs of some raccoons. Decorating a whole cake is too daunting, but cookies, cookies are perfect! Perfect size, perfect usage, no waste, everyone’s happy.

“They are basically edible canvases,” you tell Jake as he hands you a rolled-out dough.

“Y/n, have I told you how I love the way you brain works? ‘Liquid sun’, 'edible canvases’. Listen to yourself, you are basically a lyricist.”

How does Jake just constantly whips out compliments out of thin air and make your heart flutters like colourful flags in the wind? You smile bashfully. However, the next second, that smile turns into a pout as you remove the cookie cutter and find out that the guitar cookie has a broken neck again.

“Jake, I broke it again,” you whine.

“Here, let me try.” Jake takes over your failed attempts, crumbles it into a ball and flattens it with the rolling pin.

You hold your breathe as Jake gently lifts up the mold. The cookie lies pliantly in his hands. No break. It is kind of magical how Jake can basically “tame” all the guitars in the world if he wants to, even if they’re composed of flour, butter, and sugar.

“How do you do that?” you marvel. “Really, how come you are so good at cooking?” Jake made pasta for dinner using his secret sauce recipe. You helped yourself to two servings.

“Hmm, because I’m a good poet.” Jake says as he produces another perfectly drum-shaped cookie.

“Enlighten me, please.”

“‘A good poet differs nothing at all from a master-cook. Either’s art is the wisdom of the mind’.”

Jake couldn’t help but chuckle at your star-struck fangirl face, “Not my words, it’s from Ben Johnson’s ‘Neptune's Triumph for the Return of Albion’.”

Of course, of course, he would just quote some 17th-century play like it’s some item off the grocery list. You shouldn’t be expecting anything less from a man who recites poetry while launching a paper plane.

✅ Bake and decorate Christmas cookies (philosophically, with a side of literature)

9:43 PM You decided to go to bed early so that you would have enough energy for the official Christmas Day tomorrow. You are going to Karen and Kelly’s house around noon for the family gathering and dinner. But there remains one very important thing to do before you sleep, and you have been waiting in excitement the whole day like a pupil on their way for a field trip.

You and Jake will do your personal gift-opening on Christmas Eve. It is a special and intimate moment just between the two of you when you elope as lovers to your own love nest. It is a time that you deliberately reserve for yourselves away from all the hectic holiday bustle. It has been a tradition of yours, something you probably will keep on doing even after you have kids in the future (that is, if you decide to have them), just to remind yourselves of the special bond you share. And nothing and no one will change it, not the possibilities of additional family members nor the passage of time.

A string version of Last Christmas is playing in the background. Some may consider it a worn-out tune, but it holds a special place in your heart. It brings you back to your sweet elementary school years, where you and your friends would secretly meet together after school and rehearse the song for the school’s annual Christmas party. You guys were so serious about it, coming up with the choreography and everything. And you also remember your mom showing Jake the pictures of your performance when he met your parents for the first time. You feel embarrassed, but Jake finds you adorable in your silly little Santa hat and fluffy costume. Since then, he has made a mental note to always have some version of this song playing in the house around the holiday seasons.

You are wearing one of Jake’s sweaters. It’s a green acrylic sweater from his younger years. He once let you borrow it on a particularly rainy camping trip, and it was the first piece of clothing that you’ve “adopted” from his closet after you got together. The sleeves are a bit long for you, always covering half of your palms when you put your arms down, but you love it; it feels like holding Jake’s hands.

You treat this activity with an almost ritualistic seriousness, making sure you are in your most comfortable state, both mentally and physically.

“Come sit, angel,” Jake pats the space on the carpet next to the fireplace where he is sitting.

You happily oblige. You will play a round of rock, paper, scissors to decide who goes first. This time Jake loses, so he will start first.

He reaches under the Christmas tree and pulls out a small box with forest green wrapping paper. You almost feel bad for ripping the paper just because how beautiful the colour is. You open the lid to reveal a little witch figurine. She is about twenty centimetres tall and made out of wool. She wears a dress with a mixed shade of orange, warm brown hair hanging down to her waist, and a tawny pointy hat with a milky ribbon proudly sitting on top. She holds an Oslo grey broom in her hand, her arms opening as if she is caught in the middle of welcoming someone. The metal spring attachment in the bottom showing her function as a tree topper.

“She is so beautiful!” Your thumb brushes her dress, the wool so smooth and soft.

“It is only right to have her look after the house for my little quirky girl,” Jake says. “Do you want to put it up and see how it looks?”

You nod excitedly and step onto the stool beside the tree. Just like magic, she blends into the whole look perfectly, adding a rustic charm and a warm glow to the evergreen. It is as if she’s belonged there all along.

“I love her already. Thank you so much, baby.” You bend down to kiss Jake on the lips. He knows you so well, he knows that your fantasy since you were a little girl has been living in the woods as a witch, and he remembers how excited you were when the music video of Meeting the Master came out.

“Now, my next gift may need you to help me out a bit,” you say as you walk towards the bookshelf. Jake stands within reaching distance, watching you in curiosity as you move the metal vase stand out of the way and then reach into the gap between the bookshelf and the wall with your right arm. He helps you drag out a long rectangular box.

“Wow, sneaky move here, y/n.” Jake teases. “But that’s a good hiding spot though, I wouldn’t have thought.”

“That’s the point,” you smirk. You are quite proud of yourself, honestly. Jake has been at the studio a lot this month, and you did not let those hours go to waste. Jake wanders around the house when he can’t sleep at night, and you have contemplated a lot of hiding spots.

“This is big stuff,” Jake tears away the wrapping. You got Jake a Whiskey Barrel guitar holder. As the name suggests, it holds three guitars and is made out of staves from renowned bourbon distilleries. The wood is sanded and matt coated, with the black marks of the barrel rings showing its origin. Each piece is unique.

“Merry Christmas! I thought it’d be a nice addition to your studio downstairs.” You lace your fingers together nervously.

“I say it’s a perfect upgrade! The Gibsons are definitely going up on the walls, baby!” Jake presents a winsome smile. “Thank you so much, y/n.”

If your excitement are already bubbling, now it has been dialed up even higher. You and Jake have one last gift for each other and both of you love to save the best for last.

“I didn’t wrap this next one, because I have been literally still adding to it as of today. Now close your eyes.” You move to sit across from Jake.

Jake feels something like a book being laid in his lap. He opens his eyes and sees what appears to be a leather sketchbook. You nod and motion him to flip through it.

They are sketches. Sketches of him. The first page is a sketch of Jake sitting on the lawn and holding his guitar He recognizes that’s one of your first dates at the park. There’s Jake in his sword and rose costume on stage. You have always told him that is one of your favourite costumes of his. There’s Jake in his aprons, stirring something over the stove. There’s Jake soundly asleep, you must’ve sketched that one while he was taking a nap….the last page, freshly dated, concludes with the sketch of a single rose, resembling the one he made for you earlier this afternoon. You have used your pencil as an old-fashion camera and encapsulated all the lovely moments between you on paper.

“I’m not the best with my sketching, but you know, I’m improving. Also, it is not fair for you to be so pretty that it is difficult to draw.” You cheeks now are rosy pink.

“No, sweetheart, these are perfect,” Jake reaches to cup your face, “you know I have always adored your drawings.” He can also see you through the pages; you sitting by the table, stealing glances at him, nibbling on the back of the pencil. The weight of the sketchbook is way more than just paper and lead; it is also his lover’s heart.

“So, to wrap up the night.” Jake gets up and lifts the needle off the playing record. The room becomes quiet, brewing with anticipation. He pulls out his lap top and turns it to face you. On the desktop, there’s a folder labeled with your name; a single audio file lies in it. Jake turns the volume to the fullest and clicks on the file.

Within five seconds, you have recognized it is Jeff Beck’s Cause We’ve Ended as Lovers. Or, should you say, Jake’s version of Jeff Beck’s Cause We’ve Ended as Lovers. The song is without a doubt your all-time favourite guitar solo. The whole Blow by Blow album is amazing, but you have taken a special liking to this song. Yes, it is sad, but it is bittersweet in a poignant and amicable way. It is an elegiac of old lovers but also an affirmation and proof of a beautiful memory, representing the a part of life that is forever altered just because you have crossed path with someone. For the whole five minutes and forty-two seconds, it is as if you are transported to another dimension. Now, this song has become even more significant to you. The fact that Jake covers and records it for you feels makes it particularly personal and intimate. You try to picture him standing in the studio, in a similar position as the figure on the album cover.

A single tear escapes the corner of your eye and Jake is quick to catch it with his thumb. You hold his hand close to your face, kissing his fingers gently.

“I’m in my feels again,” you say after taking a deep breathe, “continue to make me cry and I will need to go check on my emotional support rose again.”

Jake chuckles. “Aww, I am glad you like it, love. Merry Christmas.”

“Thank you so much. I love you, Jake.”

“I love you too, doll.” He scoots over closer. “Now, can I get another kiss from my girl?”

Surely he can, but you just want to tease him a bit more.

“Oops, I’m afraid you can’t, sir. I see no mistletoe around here.” You grin mischievously.

Jake was prepared for your impishness. He grabs his phone and quickly searches up a photo of mistletoe. Holding it above your heads, he raises his eyebrows, a silent “how about now?”

You roll your eyes. “Come here already, you dork.”

✅ Give Jake his gifts. (The guitar holder is hiding behind the bookshelf)

10:21 PM Having exhausted almost every single item on your to-do list, it is finally time to relax. You lie in each other’s arm like a pretzel. You are dozing off to the steady rhythm of Jake’s heartbeat. You must have ended up on the nice list this year. You are so grateful for all you have, for being loved and cared for in every way.

✅ Snuggle with Jake. Tell him how much you love him.

Mentally, you tick off the last box of your Christmas Eve to-do list before falling into a dream filled with marshmallows and hot chocolate, starlight and lover.

Here, you made it!! Thank you so much for reading.

Just in case you want to check out more of my works:

Mariner's Complex || Permission to Fall || Love is a four-legged word || The Lucky Ones ||

I'm just starting off with writing fics for gvf, please leave a comment or send me an ask/message if you would like me to put up a tag list :)

#jake kiskza x reader #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka fluff #jake kiszka fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf secret santa #gvf fluff #gvf fanfiction #jake kiszka

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asumofwords · 1 year

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Would you be up to do a little drabble with them as kids?🥺

I crave something soft, it can be about the reader defending him from Aegon and her brothers or him helping her learn Valyrian.

Hello sweet pea! I have so many ideas for little Drabble and memories of the pair in S,F&A when they were young before shit hit the ceiling.

So please enjoy this little soft Drabble of the reader defending Aemond when they were young 🖤🖤🖤

“Aem?” You called again, blinking in the dark, trying to see where the young Prince was hidden.

Though his sniffles revealed him.

“They gave me a pig.” The voice cracked to the side of you, a small shadow curled into itself on the stone floors.

“What?” You responded, kneeling down onto the dusty floor in front of your uncle, not caring for the dirt that would mark the knees of your skirt.

“The Pink Dread. A pig with wings.” Aemond spat, and you saw him flick his head away from you, scowl shadowing his features.

“Why didn’t I get a dragon like you?” He sniffled, and you crawled closer, your knees knocking against his leather shoes.

“Aem-“ You reached out a hand to touch him and the boy slapped it away.

“Don’t. Call. Me. That.” He spat at you, and you recoiled, feeling anger instead of empathy take over.

“Don’t snap at me.” You snipped back, “It’s not my fault they gave you a pig.”

“They’re your brothers.”

“And Aegon is yours.”

“If father only gave me an egg like-“

“But he didn’t. And you don’t have a dragon.” You quipped, pushing your knees into his feet so that you could get closer to him, “But there are dragons out there that you could claim. Big ones. My father Laenor has told me-“

“Laenor is a deg-“

“Be nasty and I will feed you to Syndor.”

The boy quietened and looked back at you, face covered with dirt and hair wild. His violet eyes were reddened from crying.

You reached a small hand out to touch his face and he let you.

“What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

The secret passage grew quiet, till all that could be heard was the occasional sniffle from Aemond, and the shifting of his shoes on the floor.

“Tell me about the other dragons.” His voice was so quiet, and you grinned, cheeks widening as you began to tell him everything Laenor had told you.

“There are many unclaimed dragons on Dragonstone. There is Vermithor, The Bronze Fury, King Jaehaerys’ dragon who still spends his days waiting to be claimed again.” You began, watching as Aemond pretended to be disinterested, but his eyes betrayed him.

“Sheep-stealer my father tells me, steals the sheep from farmers and is a brown dragon who is vicious and strong. Grey Ghost is said to be like mist, pale and so quick you can barely see him! And then there is The Cannibal…” You quietened, Aemond shifting in front of you.

“What’s The Cannibal?” Aemond asked quietly.

“He is a dragon of coal with glowing green eyes, covered head to toe in horns. He is said to be grumpy, I think you would get along.” You teased and Aemond kicked out at you with his foot softly, “And Father says that he eats other dragons and their eggs…”

“None of them would let me claim them.” He said glumly, “I’m weak.”

“You’re not weak.” You all but shouted, “Princess Laena claimed the mighty Vhagar when she was young, she didn’t have an egg put in her cradle. I didn’t have an egg put in my cradle either, and I ride one of the largest dragons in the world. That means something.” You leant forward, looking into his pale violet eyes.

Aemond swallowed thickly at how close you were to his face, watching as your eyes darted back and forth on his.

“Two riders without an egg placed in their cradle, claiming and riding the mightiest dragons known. The Gods have something waiting for you. Something big. I can feel it.”

“All I can feel is your knee on my toe.”

You slapped his shoulder and leant back, sitting on your haunches.

“You may not ride a dragon now, but you will. And it will be one of the mightiest and most fearsome of dragons. And until then, you can ride with me on Syndor.”

When Aemond had calmed down, and you had both sat together in the shadows until the day had almost past, you emerged and returned back to your seperate chambers to be bathed and sup for the evening.

You went to bed without a fuss and woke the next morning and was readied for the day by your mothers maids.

Septa Marlow, an old withered woman, had told you to go to the teaching room with Helaena for the day.

Another day that would be spent embroidering at the side of your aunt, listening to the old crone list ways on how to be a good and dutiful wife.

But after you had finished your breakfast and were dressed, you snuck out of your chambers and made your way down to the training yard, worried for Aemond after yesterdays events.

The boys were already in the yard, Ser Cole and Ser Harwin Strong already watching and correcting their movements.

Aemond pitifully hit the straw man with the dull side of the wooden blade, smacking it low on its chest whilst Ser Cole barked at him to hit higher and harder.

You made your way down the steps, looking at the training yard below you on the landing.

Aegon giggled with Jacaerys as Luc swung his sword so hard, it flew from his hands and at his feet.

Aemond turned to see the noise, and let out a soft laugh, a laugh that made you feel warm in your tummy.

Aegon stepped towards Aemond with his wooden sword at his side lazily, sinister smile winding its way on his cheeks.

You watched as Aegon leant towards him and snorted like a pig, causing your two brothers to erupt into loud laughter, small snorts of their own filling the air.

Aemond stiffened.

And your jaw clenched.

“Come, My Lords. Enough of this childishness.” Ser Cole moved to take away the eyes of your brothers and eldest uncle from Aemond.

“Oink. Oink. Oink.” Aegon loudly mocked Aemond.

Your hands curled into fists as you looked at your younger uncle hang his head, hand on his sword tightening as he moved to turn away from the boys.

“Shall we take him for a ride?” Aegon cooed.

Your legs carried you down the steps before your mind caught up, body scooping down to pick up the wooden sword Lucerys has dropped.

“Princess,” Ser Criston began, “You should be with the Septa.”

“I’ve come to train.”

Aegon laughed loudly at you, flicking his eyes between your two brothers who’s smiles had dropped from their faces completely.

“I want to practice with my uncle.” You declared again, eyes set on Aegon who continued to giggle at you.

“Practise? Do you even know how to hold a sword?” He mocked, looking at your brothers with a wide grin as they looked at each other nervously.

“Are you afraid of losing to a girl?” You snipped, body feeling hot and anxious to move.

Anxious to do something.

Ser Cole moved to stand in front of you, hand outreached to take the wooden sword from you, but Ser Harwin came to your defence.

“Let the Princess try. I am sure the Prince will not harm her. Let it be a lesson.”

Aegon smiled a sickly sweet smile as he looked you up and down, eye pausing on the lax way you held your sword, wrist limp and fingers far too tight.

Aemond stood on the side unsure of what to do, anxiety moving through him as he saw you standing in front of his brother.

Aegon would hurt you.

“Alright niece, a duel. I promise to not hurt you.”

“Promises, promises.” You grinned.

Your brothers looked at each other before looking at you, eyes wide. They knew. And your uncles didn’t.

They knew that you trained in the yard when the eyes of propriety were gone, and Ser Harwin came to assist you. To channel your anger, to help guide it. To calm the flames that rose within you quickly.

Aegon moved into a cocky, and yet still lazy fighting stance as he grinned at you, Ser Harwin and Ser Cole standing close by to make sure nothing bad happened.

Ser Cole worried about Aegon’s strength.

Ser Harwin worried about yours.

You moved forward lifting the sword to hold it properly, legs bent as you looked at your uncle who continued to smile.

“I’ll take it easy on you, little girl.” Aegon smiled, and you smiled wildly back.

He shifted forward, arm raised bringing the sword to attempt to swipe your side. You jerked back, feet sliding on the ground to avoid it.

Aegon’s grin faltered and you felt pride swell inside of you.

Let him underestimate you.

He came forward again, arm raised to swipe at your same side. You shifted away drawing your sword up, and swinging it into his shins with a crack.

Aegon cried out and his legs buckled, sword falling to the dirt ground beneath him as you swung the sword back to hit him against the side of his arm, another cry lifting into the air.

The world around you muffled as you moved to swing the sword again, this time higher.

Power was what you felt.

Pure power, and rage, and spite, and anger, and justice.

The wood of the sword moved towards his head at great speed, but before it would connect you stopped, pausing at his neck, the worn edge of the wood brushing against his flesh as he scrunched his eyes shut.

“That’s enough.” Ser Harwin commanded, coming up to your side to take the sword away from you which you gave him willingly.

“Get up.” Ser Cole barked, embarrassed at the Prince.

Lucerys and Jacaerys snickered loudly at Aegon, who was still on the dirt floor, hissing as he rubbed his arm and shins.

You smiled at Aegon and stepped back turning on your heel as you made your way swiftly to Aemond, looping your arm in his as you tugged him away.

His feet stumbled dropping his sword as he looked back at his brother and then to you, who was seemingly unfazed except for the sharp nails that dug into the flesh of his arm.

You tugged him away and up the stairs, ignoring Ser Cole who called out after you. Aemond followed your step and eventually matched your pace, no longer shocked by what he had witnessed.

“Let’s go to the Library. I want to read ‘The Fourteen Flames’.” You declared as you passed through the halls, enjoying the feeling of calm that spread through you by having Aemond at your side.

“I refuse to spend another day with the Septa drone on about being a good wife.” You teased, mirth in your voice, eyes finding the Princes on yours already as you dragged him through the Keep.

“Zaldristos.” The Prince whispered.

Your steps faltered, head tilting as you looked at your uncle, who stood just a bit taller than you.

“What did you say?”

His robes were all green and he still wore his training yard kit. His violet eyes searched your face, hair messy and cheeks rosy.

You loved his eyes.

“Zaldristos.” Aemond repeated.

Little dragon.

Hope you enjoyed!! 🖤🖤🖤

#smoke fire and ash #drabble

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