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waywardxwords · 7 months

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Witches

Summary: While hunting a witch, you accidentally stumble upon her collection of sex pollen.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: ~4.2k

Warnings: DO NOT ENGAGE IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18; THIS CONTENT IS RATED M FOR MATURE Swearing, Supernatural-y things (witches), sex pollen trope, smut (p in v, f masturbation), fluff

A/N: This is my first time writing Dean smut and also my first time using the whole sex pollen trope. But this was fun, and I enjoyed writing it. If you’re feeling up to it, please let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!

There wasn’t anything you hated more in this supernatural world than witches. They were ruthless, conniving and downright batshit crazy. But alas, if you and your hunting buddies didn’t hunt them, then no one would. They would continue wreaking havoc on anyone they wanted, and you couldn’t have that.

So now you found yourself in the living room of a woman you had suspected spent her free time doing witchy things. You had no idea what you were looking for–bones, spell books, weird herbs or plants; the options were literally endless.

All you knew: people in this town all connected to this woman were ending up in rather interesting predicaments and you were determined to find out why.

“Don’t touch anything that looks suspicious,” Dean’s voice came through the other line as you used one hand to press your phone to your ear. “I really wish you would’ve waited for me. We should’ve gone in together.”

“Yeah, well, there’s no time for that,” you muttered as you searched. There were a bunch of old books, but none of them screamed hocus pocus to you. You fumbled with a tiny wooden trinket box that had intricate lines and details on the outside. As you lifted the lid, you saw it contained some kind of yellowish-green powder. “This is interesting…” your voice trailed off as you brought the box closer to investigate. With your phone pressed between your shoulder and ear, you lifted the box.

“I’m serious, do not touch anything. You listenin’ to me?” You rolled your eyes at his voice.

“I’m not touching anything, Dean. Cool it,” you mumbled as you examined the substance. Within a moment, your nose suddenly felt tingly and itchy. It started before you could stop it—sneeze. A cloud of the yellowish-green powder encircled your face and created a haze. Your eyes immediately felt watery. The phone fell from your ear as you hurried to place the box back down on the table and brushed your face with your hands. As you pulled your hands away, you saw dusty yellowish-green hues. You missed Dean calling your name through the phone, but he didn’t miss the words that fell from your lips in the background. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” You breathed as you plucked the phone from the hardwood floor and brought it back to your ear.

“What’s happening?” Dean’s voice was elevated and you heard the rev of the Impala’s engine in the background.

“Uh, Dean?” You watched the powder on the floor around you. “I accidentally touched it.”

“God dammit,” he groaned. “I’ll be right there.”

Dean had gotten to the witch’s house in minutes, which made you realize you probably should have waited for him and gone in together. But that didn’t matter anymore. You were waiting for symptoms to start–every little thing you felt made you wonder if it was caused by the mysterious substance.

“Talk to me, Sammy,” Dean answered the phone roughly as he sped to get back to the motel. He said it was the safest place to be in case something happened. Sam was on his own hunt, about four hours away. “It’s like a yellow color,” he described, as Sam probably asked what it looked like.

“Like pollen,” you murmured from the passenger seat. Suddenly, you felt warmth in the pit of your stomach. It was an odd feeling, almost like you had just consumed a warm cup of tea or hot soup.

“Yeah, like pollen,” Dean repeated into the phone. The warmth wasn’t going away, it was only getting hotter. So hot, you felt the need to pull off your leather jacket even though the cool autumn air nipped at your skin. Dean did a double take from the road to you, and back again. “What are you doing?” He pulled the phone slightly away from his mouth.

“I’m getting really hot, Dean,” you mumbled, worry crept through your words. You didn’t get worried often—or show it, at least—but these damn witches…all bets were off.

“She says she’s getting hot,” Dean relayed over the phone before pulling it away and hitting the ‘Speaker’ button.

“Uh, okay…so she sneezed into a box of pollen and now she feels hot?” Sam was typing as he spoke.

“Somethin’ like that,” Dean confirmed as he turned into the parking lot of the motel. By now, your skin was on fire. The heat had spread from just the pit of your stomach to your chest, your arms, your face, and…other places you preferred not to mention.

“I’m on fire,” you mumbled as tears stung your eyes. As soon as the car was in park, you had the front passenger door open and moved to be outside of the Impala. The cold air felt glorious on your skin, but the fear kept your feet moving.

“She’s burning up, Sammy. You got anything? Anything at all?” The worry was present in Dean’s voice, as well, though you barely noticed over the waves of heat coursing through you.

Once the two of you got into your shared motel room, you beelined for the bathroom. Your fingers wrapped around the edges of the porcelain sink and you closed your eyes. The coolness from the surface of the sink calmed your shakes, even if just for a moment.

“A what pollen?” Dean asked into the phone, as if he couldn’t have heard Sam correctly. After a pause, he continued. “You gotta be kidding me.” He breathed, but didn’t hesitate to get his mind back in the game. “Okay, walk me through it.”

Dean’s tone should have made you nervous, but all you could focus on was the way your heart nearly vibrated in your chest. There was a heat blazing so hot in your center, that you realized at that moment it had created a slickness in your underwear. Your nipples were so hard, they ached against the soft cotton fabric of your bra.

You glanced up to look in the mirror for the first time. That’s when you noticed the heat had risen and created patches of redness up your chest and into your cheeks. Your breathing was labored, almost, and you realized it was as if you had just had…

“Okay, hear me out,” Dean grumbled as he tossed his cell phone onto his bed and ran his hand over his mouth as he tried to find the right words. “You’re not gonna like this…but it’s called sex pollen.” He cleared his voice before he said it.

“I’m sorry, what?” Your chest rose and fell with each breath, you eyed him carefully but that made you feel even hotter. The warmth was overwhelming, so you fanned yourself with one of your hands.

“I know, I know,” he held his hands up as if he were just the messenger. “It’s a spell. It makes you wanna get it on, Marvin Gaye style.” He couldn’t help the grin that tugged at the corners of his lips. You rolled your eyes and threw the hand towel at his face, missing slightly. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Get it together,” you huffed. “So how do I break it?”

Dean gnawed at the inside of his lip, which was something you hadn’t seen him do before—or noticed, anyway. God, you couldn’t look away from his mouth. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you thought you might crumble. Your fingers reached out quickly to grip the doorway of the bathroom.

“From what Sam has read,” he paused as he nervously rubbed at the back of his neck. “You gotta…do it.”

Your eyes narrowed at him. “Do it?” You repeated. “Can you be a grown-up for five seconds, please?”

“Sex, darlin’,” he closed his eyes and said it hurriedly. “You gotta have sex.”

All of the color drained from your face. Even though you knew that was what he meant, it was still a lot to take in (no pun intended). You closed your eyes for a moment as you tried to force your brain to work, but all of the blood seemed to be rerouted to other parts of your body.

The feelings that ran over you made you realize you were feeling extreme sensations of being turned on. This went far above any other time you had felt this way—thinking about it almost made it worse.

“You still with me, sweetheart?” Dean’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. When you peeled back your eyelids, you were met with his green gaze. You had never seen his eyes so green before—and in the hue of the motel bedside lamps, you spotted speckles of gold and brown. You had never noticed how beautiful his eyes were before.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered over the word. “So what now? Just try to let it pass?”

Dean cleared his throat and broke away from your stare, his tongue darted out over his bottom lip again. God dammit, if he doesn’t put that tongue away… You tried not to squirm standing there in your jeans and a tank top. “Uh, actually, Sammy said if you don’t…take care of it,” he waved his hand in front of himself in a circular motion. “It uh, it can be fatal.”

“I’m sorry, come again?” You blinked once, then twice.

“Yeah, uh, you gotta take care of it,” he brought his hand up to rub at the back of his neck again. You noticed the way his bicep flexed and tugged at the flannel that covered his arm. The heat in your parties made you think they may actually catch on fire.

“Fuck, Dean,” you groaned and turned to move. The only thing that seemed to bring you any kind of relief was pacing. The friction your jeans caused between your legs was incredible. “What if…” you hesitated as you processed. “What if I try to ‘take care of it’ myself?” You used air quotes and looked back at him.

He seemed to process for a second. “I mean, maybe? I don’t have any idea…” the tension in the room was so awkward. But the more time that passed, the harder it was for you to look at Dean and try to not jump his bones.

“Okay, go to the bathroom…do not come out, you hear me?” You instructed firmly. Dean grabbed his phone and nodded.

“I’ll text Sammy and see if he’s found anything else,” he mumbled and hurried to the bathroom before he closed the door. You weren’t sure, but you could’ve sworn you saw him blush—and Dean Winchester never blushed.

By the time you heard the door click closed, your fingers worked the button on your jeans. As soon as the clasp was freed, you shimmied them down your thighs and kicked them off to the side. You decided to leave your underwear and tank top on, fully aware of the man just on the other side of the bathroom door.

As you dropped down on the bed and sat up against the headboard, your knees parted automatically. The heat that escaped between your legs was so intense that the cool air made you gasp. You closed your eyes as your hand snuck under the band of your black panties. The only thing you could see was Dean…his chiseled jaw, the way it tightened when he was mad, or frustrated or deep in thought; the rough stubble scattered across his lower face and chin; the way his eyes bore into you every time he looked your way. These weren’t new feelings, just feelings you had been able to avoid for so long. Now that the sex pollen had taken over, all bets were off.

Your index finger circled your clit. You tried to be quiet, truly. This situation was awkward enough and you knew the doors in this motel were practically cardboard and didn’t contain the sound. But the moans still fell from your lips hastily. You couldn’t stop them once you started. You dipped your fingers down and couldn’t believe the wetness there; the feeling was overwhelming. You squeezed your eyes tightly shut once more, envisioning the god of a man on the other side of the door. And then it happened. “Ugh, Dean,” his name rolled off of your lips dripped in absolute bliss.

“Uh, you okay in there, sweetheart?” Fuck. He had heard it. The blush rising even stronger in your cheeks literally burned your face. Tears you hadn’t realized had pooled in your eyes blurred your vision.

“God dammit,” you groaned. No matter how hard you tried, you knew this wasn’t working. “I’m uh, I’m fine, Dean.” You hoped it would be enough to appease him.

“Listen, uh, Sammy just wrote me back. He said it’s not gonna work…you, uh, taking care of it yourself,” he cleared his throat twice. Oh awesome, you thought to yourself. Both of the Winchesters know I’m trying to masturbate this spell away… You knew what that meant. Before your brain could process, you heard him again. “You decent? I’m comin’ in.”

You practically squealed and clawed at the comforter to cover yourself. The door to the bathroom creaked open and Dean hesitantly peered around it. By the time he made it into the room, you were mostly covered but your right leg had slipped out under the comforter and Dean caught a glimpse of skin from your foot all the way up to where your underwear sat above your hip.

Your eyes connected and you noticed his jaw tightened. But this time, it wasn’t because he was mad or frustrated…maybe in deep thought, but something felt different; something felt darker than that.

“It’s not working,” you murmured, your chest still heaved with each heavy breath you took. Your fingers gripped the comforter so tightly at your chest, your knuckles were white.

“I know, sweetheart,” his voice somehow sounded deeper than it had moments before. You weren’t sure if you were imagining it, or maybe it was the sex pollen. But either way, it made your body tremble.

You followed Dean’s gaze to your leg—he absolutely saw the tremble.

“Listen, I don’t want to make this weird,” he rubbed a hand down his face again. The way his mouth dropped open made the heat rise even more. “But you can’t fix this by yourself.” You knew he was hesitating; hesitating to take it further. You wondered if it was because he didn’t want it, maybe he didn’t want you.

“Help me fix this,” the tears blurred at your eyes again. “Dean, I’m begging you. Everything is on fire. My body literally feels like I’m going to combust.” You hated that your voice cracked, but you were truly starting to freak out. “I don’t want you to do something you don’t wanna do…”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dean nervously chuckled as he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I don’t want you to do something just because you have to…” his voice trailed off as his eyes studied you. Realization set in that Dean wasn’t able to hide his attraction or interest in that moment. His jeans had tightened quite a bit in his groin, revealing a bulge that made you practically pant.

“I need you, Dean. But I also want you,” you practically drooled at this point. “I want you so, so bad.”

Dean’s hands moved to unbutton the buttons to his flannel quickly—you scrambled out from underneath the comforter to where he stood at the end of the bed on your knees to help him with the rest. You gave up after the second button and pulled the two sides harshly apart, sending buttons flying to bounce onto the multicolored carpet below.

“Christ,” he breathed as he moved to undo the metal button on his jeans. Instantly, his hands cupped your cheeks. He paused for only a moment. After one more look into your eyes to make sure this was okay, you met in the middle as your lips crashed against one another.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” the words rolled off of your lips like it was nothing—but it was so much more than nothing. It was something you hadn’t meant to say, but the sex pollen haze made your filter dissipate. Your lips pulled apart with a pop and your eyes found his.

“God, me too,” he almost growled as he toppled you back onto the bed once more. Dean was on top of you, your legs parted automatically. He held himself up with one arm and kissed you in a way you had never been kissed before.

“Dean, I need you to touch me. Please,” the need in your voice was mixed with begging at this point. “Everything is on fire.”

“I’m gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” his words drawled together, intoxicated with lust. The hand that wasn’t supporting his body weight trailed down your side. He pulled back and sat on his knees, pulling you with him so you were sitting up. His fingers grasped the hem of your tank top and pulled it up and over your head in one swift motion. He reached behind you and masterfully unclasped your black bra. As soon as it fell away, the cool air from the room bit at your already hardened nipples, causing you to hiss out loud.

Just as quickly as he pulled you up, he pushed you gently back to the bed on your back as he settled between your legs once more.

“You’re so god damn beautiful,” he murmured as his lips connected with your neck. He planted hasty wet kisses from just below your ear lobe, down your collarbone to the top of your breasts.

“Dean,” your hips writhed against him. You needed more.

“I know, baby,” he breathed as his hand finally began to trace down your side, his fingertips left goosebumps on their way until they reached your hip bone. He pulled the material of your underwear until they slid off of your hips. He pulled until they were down near your feet where you could kick them off.

His fingertips trailed to your center and circled your clit just as you had done moments before. His index finger slipped easily inside of you before he decided to add his middle finger to the mix.

“Oh,” you breathed out, your head tilted backward so your neck was exposed. Dean took the opportunity happily, his lips sucked and kissed every inch of skin there as he pumped his fingers into you. “Dean, please.” You were doing a lot of begging, but you literally couldn’t help it. You felt like you would implode if he didn’t take you right then and there.

“Patience is a virtue, sweetheart,” he murmured against the flesh of your neck.

“I don’t really have time for patience,” you groaned. Dean pulled back for a moment, almost as if he had forgotten this was initiated from the sex pollen to begin with. He swallowed hard as his eyes trailed your naked body, his jaw tightened. He quickly pulled off his flannel, within seconds his fingers pulled at the hem of his t-shirt. Next up was his jeans, and then his boxers.

Your body squirmed at the sight–he was stunning. Your eyes trailed down his biceps to his forearms–down his chest, to the delicious V and then…

Your breath got caught in the back of your throat, but before you could gasp for air, his lips were back on you again and you felt his hardness against your thigh. “I don’t have a condom…” he grumbled as his head dropped into the crook of your neck.

“Birth control, Dean,” you mumbled against his hair. His lips found yours again, moving against them as if his life depended on it–and, well, yours sort of did. He pulled back for a moment and found your eyes, as if he was asking if you were sure about this. You knew there was no going back at this point, so you raised your head to capture his lips in yours again. You pulled his bottom lip between your teeth gently, which elicited a moan from him.

And then in a second, you felt him enter you. It could have been the sex pollen, but you didn’t think so. The feeling was the most incredible sensation you had ever felt. The way your body fit against his was something you could have never imagined—even in the nights you had drifted off to sleep thinking about what this might feel like.

He moved slowly at first; too slowly to appease the effects of the damn sex pollen. Your hips rose to meet his and you wrapped your legs around his waist, linking your feet behind him at your ankles. He obliged, and angled his body in a way that you could feel absolutely every inch of him inside of you.

“God damn, you feel so good,” he groaned as he pressed his forehead to yours. You had never felt so close to someone in your entire life, and you prayed it wasn’t just another symptom of the pollen.

“You’re tellin’ me,” you moaned as he reached down with the arm that wasn’t supporting his weight and pulled your leg behind your knee so it rested in the crook of his elbow. “Jesus, Dean.” You bit down on your lower lip so hard you thought you tasted blood for a second. It didn’t matter; nothing mattered in that moment.

He rocked against you so hard, the headboard bounced off of the thin wall of the motel room—the picture that hung above you rattled. Nothing mattered.

Dean brought his lips hastily to your ear and kissed just below it before he whispered, “I want you to touch yourself, sweetheart. Let yourself go.” You shuddered at the feeling of his warm breath on your earlobe and the words he whispered huskily. You could hardly take it.

Your release had already started to build—which wasn’t too surprising, considering how turned on you were to begin with. You snaked your fingers down between your bodies, the feeling of his pelvis crashing against yours sent another wave of goosebumps over your skin.

You began to circle your clit with your fingertip as he secured your leg in the crook of his arm, his bicep flexed tightly. The sensation was overwhelming and you found yourself practically babbling moans and words strung together. “Fuck, Dean. Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” that elicited another chuckle from his lips but didn’t disrupt his movements as he plummeted into you. It felt like he was breaking through your cervix at this point.

“Let yourself go,” he could feel your muscles beginning to twitch around him. His words tossed you over the edge. “Take what you need, sweetheart.”

That was it. You felt like your release was practically boiling as it shook you to your core. You saw flashes of color, and your ears were ringing. Dean moved through it for you as you rode the wave. You vaguely heard yourself yell out his name as everything crashed around you.

“You okay? You want me to stop?” He almost winced as his hips urged him to move but he wanted to respect the fact that the spell you were under had most likely dissipated now.

“Don’t stop,” you hurriedly told him as you rocked your hips against him once more. “Your turn.” You leaned up to connect your lips to a sweet spot on his neck, your tongue ran over his stubble and nipped gently which elicited a groan from the back of his throat.

“God damn,” he growled as his pace quickened again. Your muscles still twitched from your orgasm, you thought it might roll into a second wave—which would have been a first for you.

After a few more thrusts from Dean, he practically collapsed on your chest. Your fingertips found his back, coated in a thin layer of sweat. You dug your nails gently as you drew small smoothing circles upon his skin. After a moment, he rolled so he was on his back just beside you.

“That was magical,” your words practically slurred together as the room was filled with heavy breathing from both you and Dean—your chests rose and fell with each breath.

Dean’s eyes were sealed shut, but you saw the grin that pulled at his lips and he chuckled.

“You sure that’s not the sex pollen talkin’?” He drawled, his words etched together as well—a combination of exhaustion and post-sex effects.

You gently bit at your bottom lip and glanced at him from your side of the bed. His eyes were still shut lazily, a slick layer of sweat glistened in the dim light of the motel. Maybe it was still sex pollen remnants, maybe not—but something gave you a sense of courage you had never had before. You leaned over his body and inched towards his face. “Guess we’ll just have to let round two decide…”

His eyes shot open but his grin stretched wider so you could see his bright white smile. His gaze trailed from your eyes to your lips. Just before he leaned up to press his lips to yours, he said, “Guess we will, won’t we?”

And for the first time in your entire life—you were thankful for witches.

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A/N: Eek! I always get nervous posting ~smut~, but here we are! I love hearing what you think, so please don't be afraid to comment! Even if it's something I could work on for next time. Hope you enjoyed it!

Tag List: @jackles010378 @ladysparkles78 @lyarr24 @roseblue373 @nelachu2423 @deans-spinster-witch @stillhere197

#supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural ff #spn fanfic #spn ff #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fic #dean x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester ff

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ddejavvu · 7 months

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Hi! If you’re ever in the mood, maybe could we get Hangman going into a florist shop (maybe to get his mom flowers or something idk) or a bakery and meeting reader who works there and she is just overall really sweet and he pretty much falls head over heels

The man that he has to shoulder past in the doorway makes Jake assume that his breakfast voyage to the new bakery on the coast will be a disastrous one, but one glance from you has him reconsidering.

Your eyes are trained on him from the moment he lumbers through the door, but Jake chooses to think that's because he's so impossibly handsome rather than because he's the only person there. You smile at him with all of the warmth of the pastry oven beside you, but none of the bite of its flame, and he steps up to the counter feeling like he's been sun-kissed.

"Hello, sir." You offer, and your voice is sweet like the glaze drizzled over the cinnamon rolls in your window, "What can I get for you this morning?"

Perhaps if you were different - harsher, maybe, sharper - he'd have asked for your number. But you seem too sweet for a savory one-liner, and he bites his tongue until his spit bleeds hot to restrain himself.

"Uh, just a blueberry muffin and a black coffee-" It takes every ounce of self-control not to call you sugar, the word ironically sour on his tongue, "-please."

"Warmed?" You pause from tapping his order into your computer, gazing curiously at him. He blinks, once, twice, then realizes you mean his muffin rather than his rapidly beating heart, nodding disjointedly.

"Alright," You smile, movements smooth like dough that's been expertly kneaded- not that Jake needs to be thinking about kneading you right now, "I'll have that ready for you in a moment, sir. Uh- military discount?"

You eye his bulging biceps pointedly, spying a tan neckline beneath the zipper of his jacket. His face melts into a dopey smile like butter over pancakes, and he tries keeping his voice similarly smooth when he nods, "Yeah."

"Thank you for your service," You nod before totaling his order up, and even if it's a phrase that's programmed into you, memorized just as diligently as the recipes you bake by, he finds that it means more from you than it ever has from any passing stranger.

He lingers at the counter while your system loads his payment, and keeps his head ducked towards the pin-pad though his eyes wander to your busy form.

You brew his coffee easily, and place his blueberry muffin into the oven with enough care that not a single crumb of the topping falls off. You give it fifteen seconds, then package it in a plastic box, retrieving his coffee and setting it on top. You hand him his two items, one on top of each other, and it means that your fingers linger on the babse of the container and the lid of his coffee cup longer than they need to, just to be sure he's not going to drop the precariously balanced meal.

"Have a nice day, sir." You beam at him with more of that celestial warmth, and the tinkle of a bell means that Jake has to step aside to let a new customer order. Otherwise he thinks he might linger, feet stuck to the floor and elbows growing achy as he leans them against the counter to talk with you while you work. He files the plan away for later, a recipe for a first date, and takes his leave, though not before throwing one last glance at you as he opens the door with his back.

Maybe it's wishful thinking, but he's fairly certain you're looking at the new customer a little more like a stale croissant than the sugary feast you'd seen in Jake.

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #hangman fanfiction #hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x y/n #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader

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jflemings · 3 months

Text

— disconnected

pairing: hayley raso x reader

synopsis: post world cup, reader and hayley decide to take some time to disconnect from the outside world

warnings: none

a/n: a short and sweet one for my girl <3

time seems to slow down as hayley’s fingers card through your hair in the morning sunrise. she slowly detangles the small knots and scratches your scalp as she sips on her coffee, the steaming beverage warming her up in the midst of the australian winter.

“can’t wait ‘till you come to spain” she whispers to you “it’ll be good for us”

you hum in response, your eyes half lidded and heavy as you stir in hayley’s lap. the two of you decided to book your own hotel for a few days so you could have a quiet moment with eachother away from the chaos the aftermath of the world cup caused. hayley’s heart sat heavy in her chest after placing forth, the regret and self criticism bubbling in her stomach for days until you’d had enough. you knew that you needed to get here out of her head.

which leads you where you are now, lazily lounging around in a bed that overlooks coolangatta. the rising sun sparkles against the blue water and casts an orange hue over the beach and the buildings lining the shore.

you grab onto your girlfriend’s hand and lace your fingers together messily “so proud of you stargirl” you say to her “inspiring a nation, being the first australian to sign for real madrid, you really can do it all”

hayley laughs at the sight of you half asleep and mumbling “i’m only trying my best”

“and that will always be enough for me.”

in your tired, sun drunk daze you speak only the truth. hayley was always going to be enough for you, no matter what she did or how she performed, you had loved her unconditionally for almost six years now. you had followed her everywhere and cheered her on at almost every game, your own jersey collection rivalling hers because you’d insisted that you needed a new one everytime she got a new kit. through your actions alone you had demonstrated to her that there was no one else. she was the love of your life, and you have known it since you were twenty three.

she sips on her quickly cooling coffee and watches the sun finish rising with your head in her lap and her fingers through your hair, thinking about the perfect moment to pull the ring box out of her bag and make you hers for the rest of time.

#hayley raso #hayley raso x reader #hayley raso imagine #hayley raso blurb #woso #woso x reader #woso blurb #woso imagine #pegs writes #pegs woso #pegs tillies

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senditcolton · 3 months

Text

Just Let Me Adore You

Taking pictures of them when they don’t realize it because they just look too good not to do so.

part of my Valentine's Day prompts requested by anon 🫶 | word count: 0.8k | warnings: none!

Life moved fast and it was easy to forget about all the little things that brought you joy. That was the reason why you started taking photos.

They didn’t have to be professional and high-quality, they just had to be. A snapshot of your favorite dinner, a video of a candle burning, multiple landscapes, photos of your friends and family.

An entire album filled with candid pictures of your boyfriend, Matthew.

That last bit was entirely unintentional. You hadn’t planned on Matthew being a mainstay in your photo album of joy. It was only when you were scrolling through your phone while lounging in bed that you realized how many pictures there were of your boyfriend.

But it made sense; being with him brought you so much happiness. He made you laugh and smile, gave you excitement and adventure, and made you feel so very loved.

And you felt the same way towards him. The photos were evident of that. It wasn’t just for selfish reasons that you captured them. You took pictures of him because you loved seeing him happy, loved to have a reminder of all those moments in his life – the big and the small. But since they only existed in your phone, you were the only one that got to revel in those memories and the feeling they brought.

Until now.

It took an insane amount of printer paper, a number of glue sticks, a pack of markers, dozens of stickers, and a trip to your local bookstore but it was finished. Your excitement was almost uncontainable as you hold out the wrapped anniversary present towards Matthew.

“Happy two years,” you say, your fingers brushing against his as he takes the parcel from your hands. The sound of the wrapping paper being torn away from the box just makes your anticipation reach another level. Matthew lifts the lid, revealing the leather cover of the scrapbook that you bought weeks ago and his eyes dart to yours, that curious sparkle in his blue irises.

“Now, what’s this?”

“Why don’t you open it, then maybe you’ll figure it out,” you tease him, wanting to see his genuine uninfluenced reaction. He takes your advice, lifting the book from the tissue paper and flipping open the cover. You watch as his eyes scan the pages, dancing over each photo and the other decorations that you placed within.

“Wait a second. This is – ”

“Last years All-Star game,” you finish for him. “There’s more.”

The smile on Matthew’s face grows as he continues to flip through the pages filled with pictures of him from two years you were together: him during the Stanley Cup playoffs, him in the kitchen of your old apartment, him at Brady’s summer wedding, him placing your books on his bookshelf when you moved in, him on the beach during this years All-Star break, him curled up on the couch asleep, him during random parties and at random bars and on random dates. All of those moments carefully curated and lovingly placed in the scrapbook. Matthew flips through all of them, murmuring comments about what he remembers or how he felt. Eventually, he reaches the end of the decorated pages, blank white paper extending until it stops at the back cover.

“Is there any more?” Matthew asks, looking up at you and you can’t stop the laugh that comes at his excitement.

“Not yet, but I’m sure there will be,” you say, the smile on your lips infecting your tone. “Which leads me to your next gift.” You extend a small box to him and Matthew eagerly opens it to reveal a disposable camera.

“I figured that you could help me add to it,” you softly explain. Matthew smiles at you, wasting no time putting down the camera before cupping your face in his hands and pulling you into a kiss.

“I love it, thank you. This is… really one of the most thoughtful things someone has done for me,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief at the time and effort you put into your gift. “My present might seem a little lame in comparison.”

“Nonsense,” you hush him, picking up the gift with your name on it. You open the packaging of the small black box, lifting the lid, revealing a stunning piece of jewelry – one bought directly from the shop of one of your favorite artists.

“Matthew, it’s beautiful,” you sigh out, your hands coming to brush against the metal. “This is exactly the one I wanted. How did you know?”

“You’re not the only one that pays attention to the little things, I suppose,” Matthew says, a gentle laugh falling from his lips.

“It’s gorgeous, thank you,” you repeat, turning to look at him, the smile still on your face. The instant you turn around, you hear the click of a camera shutter and watch as Matthew lowers the camera from his eye.

“Another memory for the scrapbook,” he says and you can’t stop the trill of your heart at the thought of filling pages and pages with memories shared with him. Your boyfriend, your muse, your love.

#nicole writes #matthew tkachuk blurb #matthew tkachuk fluff #florida panthers blurb #nhl blurb #hockey blurb #valentine blurbs 2k24

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eddievanhammettmunson · 1 year

Text

Sticky Situation.

Author’s note- Hola my ghouls, gremlins, and goblins alike. Back with another one shot cause I read this fic awhile back where Eddie gets gum stuck in his hair and Chrissy helps him get it out and the reader gets jealous and I haven’t been able to find it since but it made me want to write this.

Warnings- uh none just pretty fluffy :)

Summary- Eddie gets gum stuck in his hair and you help him out. 1.5k words

You took your time driving over to Eddie’s trailer today. You went everyday after school and usually he’d just give you a ride but today you had to run some errands and just told Eddie you’d meet him at his trailer. You were in no rush as you let Metallica play in the background and you were determined to hear Ride the Lightning all the way through.

As you pulled up to the trailer park you slowly cruised your way till you got to Eddie’s trailer and you parked next to his van. You sat in the car until the song was done playing and then you shut it off and made your way up to the trailer door using the spare key Eddie and Wayne had given to you to let yourself In.

As you let yourself in you noticed the unusual heavy silence of the trailer. You began walking towards Eddie’s room and then you stopped in your tracks as you heard sniffles and crying coming from the bathroom. You walked closer and saw the door open and from what you could see in the reflection of the mirror was Eddie standing there crying as he looked at his reflection and held up the electric razor as he hesitated to start shaving his head.

You quickly made your way to stand in front of the entrance to the bathroom.

“Eddie what the hell are you doing!”

Eddie jumps at the sound of your voice not having heard you come in. He looks at you eyes heavy with tears. He doesn’t answer you verbally. He just turns around and shows you instead. The back of his hair filled with sticky gum in large quantities.

“Oh Ed’s. What happened baby?”

He sniffled and sat down on the lid of the toilet.

“I was in O’Donnels trying to fucking pay attention for once and Jason and his goons were busy throwing gum in my hair I guess. I can’t get it out so I have to shave it.”

You paused. Knowing how much Eddie’s hair meant to him and why he’d grown it out. After his mom died his dad had forced him to shave his head because his hair reminded him too much of Eddie’s mother. And when Eddie’s father finally went to prison Eddie vowed to never shave his head again.

Now you weren’t a professional hair stylist or anything but you knew your way around hair pretty well. You always cut and did your own hair and even dyed your own hair all the time. Now the only hard part would be getting Eddie to agree to let you touch his hair.

You walked towards him and grabbed the shaver out of his hand and put it on the counter. You then place your hands on his shoulders and he looks up at you with the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen him give.

“Eddie, do you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you sweetheart.”

“Will you let me help you with your hair?”

He pauses for a moment. And then nods his head yes.

“Okay Eddie grab whatever you need and then we’ll go back to my house. I have hair supplies there that will help us. While you're at it grab some clothes we can have a sleepover and make a night of it. We’ll get snacks and watch some movies after I do your hair okay?”

He gives you a weak smile and goes to pack an overnight bag to bring to your house.

The entire car ride to your house is uncharacteristically quiet. You can tell Eddie is trying hard to trust you with his hair but he isn’t hopeful.

Once you get to your house you take Eddie to your room and get him situated in the chair in front of your desk. You go to the bathroom and grab your box of hair supplies and make your way back to him.

“Sweetheart, thank you for trying to do this for me. But if you can't, I understand you know.”

He sounded so melancholy. You walked up to him and cupped his face in your hands to make him look up at you.

“Eddie, I'm going to do my absolute best okay.”

He nodded his head and as you removed your hands from his face you pretended not to notice the kiss he left on the palm of your hand.

You began digging through your box of supplies and grabbed a comb, a brush, a small pair of scissors you were hoping not to use much, and oil.

“Eddie I’m gonna have to work the oil through your hair a bit to loosen up the gum and it may hurt a little bit as I tug on strands of your hair okay but I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

He gave you a whispered okay and so you began the tedious process of removing all the gum from his hair. He winced a few times when knots would appear or when you would try to remove the gum too soon.

There were a few strands that you had to snip but nothing noticeable. And as time went on Eddie began to relax against you and he even found himself enjoying the feeling of your fingers running through his hair. But then again Eddie pretty much enjoyed anytime you touched him.

He knew he didn’t allow anyone to ever touch his hair and today may be the first time he gave you permission but if you’d touched his hair before today he knows he would have let you.

It took a couple of hours but eventually you put the tools down on the table and clapped your hands together. Grabbing the small handheld mirror you hand it to Eddie with a smile.

“Well Ed’s. What do you think?”

He studies his hair in the reflection for a moment before the tears start to form in his eyes again.

“Oh. Oh no Ed’s I’m sorry did I ruin it? Did I do something wrong?”

He shakes his head no but stands up abruptly and before you know it he’s turned around and tackled you in a breath snatching hug. His face is tucked into the crook of your neck and his hands wrapped tightly around your waist. Holding you against him as he cried.

“Thank you sweets. Thank you so so much.” He whispered his appreciation in your ear. As you stood there with your arms wound around his neck. You began to stroke the back of his head and tell him it was okay and that you’d do it anytime.

When he pulled away he didn’t go far still holding you in his arms he looked in your eyes for a brief moment before he quickly bent down and captured your lips in a fleeting kiss. It was so unexpected you didn’t get the chance to properly kiss him back before he was pulling away

“Sorry sweets I just-well I wanted to do that for a really long time and and well you’ve been so nice to me today and I can’t thank you enough really I’m sorry-“

You stop his rambling by leaning up and giving him a proper kiss on the lips. It starts off gentle but you can’t help but deepen the kiss until you're both pulling away gasping for air.

“If I’d known getting gum out of your hair would finally get you to kiss me I’d have put gum in your hair myself ages ago.”

Both of you giggle at this and give each other another peck on the lips before you pull away.

You pack up all your hair supplies and Eddie changes into his pyjamas and goes to the kitchen to get the snacks you’d mentioned for movie night.

When you both reconvene in your room you’ve picked out a movie. When Eddie sees what’s playing he groans.

“Cmon sweets really? Grease? Again?”

“Hey mister I just spent the last god knows how many hours working gum out of your hair I think the least you could do is let me have Grease.”

“Okay Frenchy.”

“What?”

“Frenchy. Beauty school dropout.”

“I’d have to go to beauty school in the first place to be a dropout.”

“I think you should go to beauty school, sweets. Certainly got the talent for it.”

You blush at his words but say nothing. As you crawl in the bed next to him he’s not having it as you sit in your normal spot he wraps a hand around your waist and pulls you against him and you oblige by wrapping your arms around him and holding onto him like a koala. As the movie plays you begin to drift off as Eddie runs his fingers through your hair.

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password-door-lock · 4 months

Text

“What is this?” Unknown demands, giving the oversized cup a once-over. He does not appreciate the tacky snowflake print any more than he appreciates the fact that it is decidedly not what he asked for.

You shoot him a sheepish smile that he could really do without, before stabbing the sheer plastic lid of your drink with a large pastel pink straw identical to the one waiting for him on the dashboard. “You said you wanted something that would keep you awake.”

Unknown grits his teeth. It's like he has to spell every little thing out for you lest you should fuck it up— maybe he shouldn't really be surprised, considering he's had to deal with your antics for months now, but that doesn’t mean he’s pleased with your behavior. “I wanted an energy drink.” He may not drink them often, but they come in handy when he spends long hours on surveillance missions such as this one.

“Oh.” You wrinkle your brow, looking genuinely apologetic. “I'm sorry. I wish you would have said something— hopefully this will be okay, though. It does have a lot of caffeine and sugar— plus, I got us some pastries, too.”

You brandish a box (also printed with snowflakes) which looks big enough to contain more than enough pastries for the two of you. “Next time, get me what I ask for.” He shouldn’t have to say that, but Unknown understands now that it’s better to err on the side of caution when giving you directions.

“Of course.” You don't contest the fact that he never explicitly asked you for an energy drink, which, to your credit, does improve Unknown's mood infinitesimally. He’s not in the mood for an argument today, any more than he’s in the mood for… whatever you’re trying to give him now. “But, listen, this should give you enough energy to stay up until we're back at Magenta, anyway. And they're doing a promotion for winter— see the little flap in the cup? There's a plushie keychain behind it.”

“Next time, I'll go with you into the store,” Unknown decides, too caught up in his own thoughts to consider the new information that you’ve offered. None of the work that he got done while you were in the coffee shop makes up for the potential risks associated with leaving you to your own devices for so long. He sincerely hopes that the Savior doesn't look at her card history for this evening, because he has no interest in explaining why so many ridiculous things were purchased in the name of the Mint Eye.

You're not listening to him, either, already prying open the little door in the side of your cup to get to the plushie. Unknown is irrationally annoyed about this, and he stews in his anger as you withdraw the stupid little thing. “Aw,” you look dejected, which comforts him. “Damn.” You might be annoying, but at least your pouting face is cute.

“What's the problem, prince(ss)?” Angry or not, Unknown will never pass up an opportunity to mess with you.

“I don't really like this character,” you confess, “Like, it’s fine, I guess, but I was hoping to get something else.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Unknown murmurs mockingly, reveling in your disappointment just as he indulges in all of your emotions. He really does enjoy his time with you, all things considered— but, then again, he never would have picked you if he didn’t want to be around you.

“You should open yours.” Now you're giving him puppy-dog eyes, which has never been a particularly effective method in your dealings with Unknown— of course, that’s never stopped you before, and he apparently can’t expect it to stop you this time, either. “Please? It's already paid for. It would be a waste if you just left it.”

Unknown considers this. As much as he doesn't want to listen to you when you try to give him orders, he is just a bit curious about what might be inside the cup. And you do have a point— it is already paid for. Even though he doesn't want it, if there's any enjoyment to be had from this irresponsible decision of yours, he may as well revel in that, too, before the Savior finds out what has taken place and limits his use of the Mint Eye credit card. Most likely, he'll no longer be allowed to leave you unattended with it.

Whatever. It takes him a moment to get the stupid thing out of the little door— he ends up just ripping the extra bottom compartment off of the rest of the cup and tossing it on the floor of the car. He figures that you can clean it up later. He studies the prize— it’s just some plush cartoon character that he’s never heard of, though you seem to recognize it, if the way that your eyes widen as you study the thing is anything to go on. “What?” He demands, clutching the plushie in his closed fist.

“Can we trade?” You ask sheepishly, holding out your keychain like you expect him to take it. “You got my favorite character.”

Unknown finds himself grinning. He didn’t care at all about the plushie before, but he very much enjoys knowing that he has something that you want. He offers you a smug chuckle before clipping the keychain ring to his belt loop. “No,” he says firmly, “I like this one.”

But his words and actions fail to have the desired effect. You just grin right back at him, silently clapping your hands as if pleased by his performance. Unknown stares up at the ceiling, wondering what the hell he’s going to do with you. As if you can read his thoughts, you select this moment to be extra-annoying: “Now try the drink,” you order, “I promise you’ll love it.”

#another drabble from the vault!#And yeah I'm fully aware that my last 3 fics have involved MC giving Unknown some kind of gift #However #I saw a place that was doing a similar promotion and couldn't get this idea out of my head #So here you go #Mystic messenger #mystic messenger drabble #saeran choi #choi saeran #unknown mystic messenger

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wonderlandleighleigh · 1 year

Text

rewrite 2

@theycallme-thejackal wanted more so

She figures if Joel is going to aggressively blame her for his life falling apart (again), then she deserves just a tiny bit of retaliation in the form of bringing the kids with her on Zelda’s night off. So she manages to throw together something delicious in her pyrex before bundling up the kids and taking them to Lenny’s new place in the Village.

It’s nice, though a little old. There’s even a doorman, and he lets them up to the fifth floor readily.

Lenny opens the door, looking a little surprised, and still exhausted, but he’s not unhappy she’s there, letting them in, and instantly, Ethan and Esther adopt Kitty as one of their own.

“I made a box fort in my new room, wanna see?” Kitty offers, and off they go.

Midge smiles fondly, before looking around. The apartment is covered in boxes, both empty and not-so-empty ones, and Lenny looks a little sheepish.

“We’re settling in,” he tells her sheepishly. “We’ll get there.”

Midge smiles at him kindly. “I know you will. I’m sorry to spring my kids on you like this. I didn’t have a sitter for tonight, and since Kitty is here, I thought it’d be okay.”

He grins a little. “It’s nice for her to make friends.”

She smiles back and offers him the pyrex. “Dinner, as promised.”

He takes it and shifts the lid open a little to get a whiff, before looking at her in half-amazement, half-annoyance. “It smells fucking amazing.”

“I’m glad you think so. Hungry?”

“Starved,” he admits as they head for the kitchen. “Kids! Dinner!”

“Can we eat in the box fort?!” Kitty calls back.

Lenny shrugs and looks to Midge. “I don’t mind if you don’t mind.”

She shrugs easily. “Sounds fine.”

“Come get plates to bring back to the fort!” Lenny calls, and it ushers in a stampede of socked feet.

They fill three plastic plates with chicken and carrots and kugel and the kids rush back with their dinners towards Kitty’s room, giggling and chattering to each other.

“That didn’t take long,” Midge observes as she and Lenny dish out food for themselves.

He clears off the small kitchen table of court documents and boxes so they can sit and eat, and he pulls a bottle of wine from a cabinet. “I figured if you were gonna bring dinner, I should supply the libations.”

“Very generous,” Midge quips as he pours them some wine into small cups. “How was Kessler?”

“Fine,” Lenny shrugs. “He says hello. He told me if I were a woman and could borrow your outfits I’d have a better time in court.”

“Too bad you don’t have the tits to hold up my dresses,” she teases gently.

“Yes, a terrible shame,” he agrees. “How’s work?”

“It’s-” Midge stops and thinks about it. “Great. And awful. And great. And awful.”

“Sounds right,” Lenny nods as he starts eating, stopping to chew slowly, eyes closing. “Fuck that’s good.”

Midge grins proudly. “So far, I’m just the girl in the room, and Gordon keeps trying to hit on me, and because of it, all the other writers hate me.”

“Gordon’s wandering shvantz is to be avoided at all costs,” he tells her, pointing a fork at her. “I’ve heard stories. None of them are good.”

“That’s the impression I got,” she agrees. “He was very disappointed that I had plans tonight and wasn’t going out for after-show drinks with everyone.”

“Well, I feel very lucky to have you here,” Lenny admits quietly. “It’s been…” he stops, looking down at his plate.

“It doesn’t sound good,” Midge offers.

He nods. “The only bright spot’s been having Kitty around.”

“She seems sweet,” Midge nods.

“The sweetest,” Lenny agrees. “Look…I…Midge, I-” he stops and swallows.

“Lenny…”

“I should have called,” he blurts out. “I was a coward, and I just- I don’t know. After that night on stage it felt-”

“Lenny.”

He stops when she puts a hand over his. He looks up at her, that tired look still in his eyes.

“I’m really glad you’re back,” she says softly. “And I’m really glad we get to do this.”

He keeps his eyes trained on her, and he looks like he’s doing everything in his power not to tug her closer; take her into his arms. It’s clear that they’re still on shaky ground. They don’t know where they stand with each other, sitting here in his nice new apartment at his small kitchen table with their kids happily eating and playing together in the other room.

It feels like jumping into the deep end, from creatures of the night to hosting a playdate.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” he confesses. “The lawsuits are getting harder to fight, and my mother fucking up my west coast plans has been a nightmare, and I’ve been clean and exhausted and I just want to make sure my kid is happy and taken care of. I’m afraid I can’t do all of this on my own.”

She lifts her hand from his and reaches out to stroke his jaw. Watching Lenny melt into her touch brings back a very specific night for Midge, and she can’t help reveling in the memories of being so close to him.

“Then it’s a good thing you’re not on your own,” she offers gently. “I’m juggling a lot, too, but I want to help as much as I can. As much as you’ll let me.”

She sees something change in his eyes, like he’s made a decision, and suddenly, her chair is being tugged closer to him, and she’s being kissed tenderly; gratefully.

It doesn’t last long, as three giggles echo from the hallway, and when they turn towards the sounds, they find all three kids watching, before running away back to Kitty’s room.

Midge laughs and lets her forehead thump against Lenny’s shoulder. “Shit.”

Lenny chuckles and keeps holding her.

#tmmm #tmmm spoilers #midge x lenny #fic

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browneyedgirly93 · 1 year

Note

K like Eris with a reader who’s like rlly into cute things and loves his dogs

Apparently cute things evolved into thoughtful gifts for Eris haha I hope you enjoy my first one-shot fluffy Eris x Reader fic :) I have a long-form multi-part Eris Fic coming soon!

Gifts

Eris x Reader

Summary: Eris finds his mate sitting on the floor surrounded by their dogs she has been waiting for him to finish work so she can give him a few gifts. Warnings: None, just fluff

Word Count: 918

I am sitting on the floor surrounded by thirteen dogs, the smallest of the bunch Flint is in my lap jumping up and trying to give me kisses. Eris had gotten me a puppy for our 5-year anniversary and I adored the little guy. The other dogs were laying around me watching as I played with the pup. The hounds were always watching over me when Eris wasn’t around. I heard the door opening and looked up to see the love of my life leaning against the door frame smirking at me.

“My love, why were you sitting on the floor?” he said stepping into the room eyes never leaving me, a few of the dogs got up to go and sniff their master his hands mindlessly patting them on the heads.

“Giving the dogs the attention they deserve” I state matter-of-factly, he chuckles and watches me for a few minutes.

“Will I also be getting the attention I deserve?” he winks at me.

“Always” I say knowing exactly what I have planned for tonight. I place Flint on the floor and push myself up and nearly trip over 3 different dogs, Eris is instantly beside me gripping my waist to keep me steady. I wrap my arms around him and snuggle into his chest. “How was your day?”

“Boring, as usual. How was yours?” he said simply pressing a kiss to the crown of my head.

“I went shopping today and got you a few things” I smiled proudly stepping away from him.

“My love you did not have to do that” he said, but I could tell he was excited. He loves it when I bring home surprise gifts for him, he’d never admit it but he enjoys being spoiled. Standing up on my tiptoes I lean in pressing a soft kiss to his lips before disappearing into our bedroom to grab the items. I return to find him sitting in front of the fire with his legs resting on the low-lying table. Settling down beside him on the brown leather couch, I sit facing him I want to be able to watch his reactions to my gifts. “I called to have tea delivered” he smiles at me placing his hand on my leg. Returning his smile while handing him the first gift, it was a brown leather-bound journal with gold-gilded edges.

“I figured you’d be needing a new one soon and I got myself a matching one” I smile placing a second one on the table. “Thank you” he chuckles leaning over to place a kiss on my cheek, a knock sounds from the doorway. “Come in” he calls out, as our main servant Florence enters the room with a large platter containing a teapot, two matching tea cups and a plate overflowing with Eris’s favourite cinnamon apple biscuits. She brings it over towards the table and places it gently before us.

“Will there be anything else my lord and lady?” Florence said bowing to us.

“That’ll be all for now. Thank you, Florence” I respond smiling at her, she bows again exiting the room. Eris leans forward pouring us each a cup of tea and grabbing a biscuit. “I guess you won’t be wanting your second gift then.”

“Who said I didn’t” he smirks in between bites of his biscuit. I grab the second gift, it was a metal tin containing our favourite maple candies. His eyes went wide as he grabs the tin from my hand, pulling the lid off and popping a piece of candy into his mouth.

“They’ve been sold out everywhere, how’d you get them?” he mumbles around the candy.

“I’ll never tell” I smirk at him taking a sip of my tea and returning it to the table. “Just one gift left to go.” Putting down the candy jar and focusing all his attention on me I hand him a small white gift box with a large red bow tied around it. “Now technically this is a gift for both of us.” I blush and he eyes me suspiciously, he begins to lightly shake.

“Is that so?” smirking at me like he already knew what was inside the box. He slowly begins untying the bow I felt the heat blooming in my stomach, his eyes lifting to mine as he scents my arousal. Removing the lid he looks into the box to be greeted by a deep red set of lingerie. “I require a fashion show Pet” he demands eyes darkening as he hands me the garment, blushing at the use of the nickname that was saved for the bedroom.

“Anything for you my High Lord” I say in the most sultry voice I can muster, snatching the garment. I walk through the bedroom into the bathing chamber changing into the nearly non-existent fabric and stepping out of the room to find Eris already waiting on the bed. He looks me up and down with such intensity.

“Utterly breathtaking” he says in a husky voice standing up and striding towards me. He grabs my hips pulling me into a passionate kiss. He pulls away and steps back to look at me again. “Thank you for my gifts Pet, now let me give you a gift.” He purrs as he lifts me up I wrap my legs around his waist, resuming our kiss. Suddenly I am on my back on the bed with his prowling over me, the look in his eye told me I was in a long night.

#eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris/reader #eris #erisvanserra #acotar #autumncourt #autumnslittlefox

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where-is-francis · 1 year

Text

𝙏𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙡 𝙤𝙛 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 —♡-> 𝙀𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙈𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙣

Before You Interact — Rules Of My Blog

𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩: Part of my Valentine’s Day 2023 blurb series

𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙨: They/Them — fem/fem aligned DNI, you have plenty of stuff

𝘼/𝙉: This one is shorter than the rest, unfortunately, but I might add to it later. I mainly want to get all of them released before the 14th, and I’m doing some for Robin, Chrissy, and Nancy too. Lots of writing.

𝙏𝙒: None!

𝙀𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙈𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙣 couldn’t knock the smile off of his face if he tried — though he definitely didn’t want to. You two had just grabbed food from the diner not too far from the brunette’s residence. A muggy atmosphere and navy sky battled against the red-tinted hues of festive decorations across town. Eddie followed you across the empty lot to the van and opened the passenger door, bowing lightly and gesturing for you to enter. Even though he did it every time — the door wouldn’t budge unless the handle was yanked in just the right way and led to the usual display of affection — it still never got old.

With you inside, he walked around and got in but didn’t start the car immediately. Eddie eyed the to-go cups of milkshakes before skillfully reaching in and plucking the cherry from his own shake.

It was a great date. Everybody else in the town was out at the movies or home, which left the diner a bit bare. However, the waitress was more than okay with the fact, and even dished out some extra fries on the house.

You beamed. “Alright, time for your present.”

After lightly slapping your boyfriend’s thieving, cherry-picking hand, you adjusted slightly to rummage through the pocket of your jacket. You looked absolutely perfect to him while clad in his Black Sabbath shirt that he "lost" in his junior year. The diner lights softened from across the parking lot and flowed across your features in waves. Every time he looked at you it felt like the first time. It felt like his voice catching in his throat as his stomach melted into a puddle in the school hallway.

You cleared your throat a bit and held out a small white box in the direction of your boyfriend.

"Don't tell me you're proposing to me in the parking lot," his grin was smug but sweet.

"Oh, just open it."

The brunette obliged and popped the lid from the small box. Inside was one of his guitar picks which now hung from a necklace chain. His brows furrowed a bit as he held the necklace in the air with his glance switching between it and you.

"You didn't want it anymore?”

You froze a bit and cringed as you tried to find a better way of explaining the gift. The red and black marbled pick used to have a place in the left breast pocket of your jacket, right by your heart, since he gave it to you at the first gig you attended. His caramel eyes followed as you spun the pick around in the soft light, only to reveal his initials and yours etched into the back.

“You gave that to me the night you guys won battle of the bands. I just wanted you to have it as a reminder that was the night I realized I'm in love with you. I love you, Eddie." You reiterated.

Eddie felt his ears ring with the deafening silence of the van he forgot to start. Every time either one of you wanted to say the three simple words it was like they wouldn't budge from the safety of the lump in your throat. Now those words were free. The necklace still rested in his hand as they found the sides of your face, effectively holding you in place for a kiss.

"I love you too, so fucking much."

Reblogs instead of likes. Reblogs help other people find my works. Comments and tags very much appreciated. 💕 More male and enby reader fics on my blog.

#x male reader #x gender neutral reader #stranger things x male reader #stranger things x gender neutral reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson x male reader

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skzsauce01 · 2 years

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Baboba

Synopsis: If boba is a religion, then your family’s shop is a place of worship, and Jeongin is a devout follower. This is all to say that Jeongin is Baboba’s best customer, and you welcome his presence. Boba shop AU. College AU.

Warning: none

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: fem!reader x Yang Jeongin

Sundays are always busy, but now that August is almost over and the fall semester is approaching, Sundays are hectic. Hoards of students from Seoul National University flock to Baboba for their last drinks of the summer. Milk teas, fruit teas, regular teas, and even milkshake-esque, slush teas—your family’s shop has every kind of drink anyone may want. If they’re hungry, then there’s popcorn chicken in five levels of spice, thick waffles topped with ice cream, and fish-shaped pastries stuffed with red bean paste. Having so many items on the menu seemed ambitious at first, but with three employees at the front handling beverages, your dad is able to focus on the food in the back kitchen. Although, he never appears to actually stay there.

During a rare instance where you’re not manning the register, he comes out and sidles next to you at the pick-up station. He smells like chicken, and your stomach growls as you call out an order. His gaze sweeps across the crowds, trying to find a certain someone. “Is that him?” he whispers.

You don’t even glance up from the cluster of drinks you have in front of you. “Dad, not every college guy is Jeongin.”

Jeongin is the shop’s most loyal customer by far. Baboba opened in the middle of June when most students returned home for break, so Jeongin’s frequent visits were greatly appreciated. In fact, he was Baboba’s first customer. There’s a photo of him posing with your dad to commemorate the event. It hangs next to the newspaper clipping announcing the shop’s grand opening. Over the months, he’s developed an attachment to the place, doing homework from his summer classes while nursing a cup of boba. Usually house milk tea with tapioca pearls, but occasionally he’s adventurous and tries something new, taking recommendations from you or your dad. He even chats to your dad when they’re both free.

The point is, your dad loves him.

“He hasn’t come by for so long, I’m worried about him,” he says, his eyes still fixated on the door. He nudges you aside. “Why don’t you go help Yeji with the drinks?”

“Okay, fine.”

You head over to Yeji, Baboba’s latest hire. Her eyebrows are furrowed as she scans the cheat sheet taped to each station and the label on the empty plastic cup. She mumbles to herself, “Matcha milk tea, matcha milk tea.”

“One scoop of this.” You hand her the glass container filled with matcha powder, and she sighs appreciatively. She’s a part-timer and only been here for a week, so you don’t expect her to have the entire menu memorized. “I’ll start on the next order.”

Minho, the other paid employee, adds two more empty cups to the line of unfulfilled orders. He adjusts the light brown cap on his head and gives you a sympathetic look before returning to the customers. After a deep breath, you take stock of the labels, mentally sort them from simple to finicky, and start making drinks.

Sometime during the chaos, Yeji is placed on errand duty, also known as running back and forth between the kitchen and pick-up station to grab food. Your dad is still keeping watch for Jeongin.

In a rare lull, Minho gives you a hand, quickly scooping and pouring ingredients into the shaker cups while you finish the beverages with either additional toppings or lids. In the middle of dolloping cheese foam, you hear your dad gasp, “He’s here! With friends!” He heads to the register, eager to say hello to his favorite patron. However, tragedy strikes.

“We’re almost out of chicken!” comes Yeji’s harried cry.

Your dad’s eyes flick between all three of his employees. Yeji plants herself at the pick-up station, cradling a box of popcorn chicken to solidify her claim. You and Minho exchange glances and have a second-long staring contest for who will work the register now. Neither of you like the position very much, but since he’s paid his dues already, you concede.

Jeongin stands at the front of the group. In a plain white t-shirt and a studious expression on his face, he looks like how he did on the first day he came to Baboba. The menu in his hands is flipped somewhere to the middle, and his friends look over his shoulder and muse about what to get. Jeongin looks up momentarily, and his eyes crinkle when he makes eye contact with you. Your stomach does something you can’t pinpoint.

Over the din of the machines, you say, “Hi, welcome to Baboba. What can I get you?”

“Anything new?” he asks. He passes the menu to the nearest friend and steps closer to the counter, arching his neck to see into the kitchen. “I heard about the chicken emergency. Say ‘hi’ to your dad for me.”

“If you get the chicken, he’ll come out and give it to you personally. He misses his best customer,” you laugh, making him blush. “Nothing new, but check back next week.”

“What’s happening next week?”

You lean in conspiratorially, the same time something clatters in the back. “You didn’t hear it from me, but possibly something with coffee. The usual then?”

While Jeongin deliberates, you furtively check on Minho and Yeji, both of whom are wiping down a spill consisting of pudding and black tea. Minho’s apron has a dark stain on it now. Poor Yeji, silky soft pudding slipping and breaking between her gloved fingers, is flustered beyond belief.

“We got it,” Minho calls to you. “Can you get us a new cup though?”

You check through the order history on the machine and find the corresponding one. By the time you’ve stuck the label onto the cup, Jeongin and his friends are ready to order. They look concerned about what happened in the back. You pull the brim of your cap lower and ask what you can get them.

Brown sugar milk tea, 100% sweetness; strawberry milk slush, 100% sweet; hibiscus green tea, 75% sweetness, and one bungeoppang. And of course, what you now want to name as the Jeongin Special, house milk tea with boba, 75% sweetness, with an order of mild popcorn chicken.

“I don’t mind the ten minute wait,” he says before you can inform him. After you add on the discount for students of Seoul National University, he taps the back of his phone on the card reader. “Are you still gonna work here in the fall?”

“Yeah. It’s gonna get busier, so my dad’s gonna need help.” He smiles in understanding, and in the next instant, your customer service facade slips back on. “Your order will be ready soon. Thank you for coming to Baboba.”

One confirmation nod later, he joins his friends by the pick-up counter. The girl with copper hair greets him by grabbing his arm. Friend or girlfriend? You and Jeongin have never really talked about relationships, mostly because he always asked about the shop and you were all too willing to answer.

While Yeji disappears into the back to grab a fish-shaped pastry, you set aside the hibiscus green tea for Minho to fill after he finishes his current order. In the meantime, you scoop a spoonful of brown sugar boba and coat the insides of a cup with their syrup. Making drinks is as soothing as it is chaotic. Having worked together for the last month, you and Minho dance fluidly around each other, setting aside the latest orders one after another. Meanwhile, Yeji handles the strawberry milk slush, so you’re tasked with the house milk tea. It’s by far your favorite milk tea variation to make.

A minute later, the kitchen doors swing open, and your dad unabashedly exclaims out, “You’re finally back!”

Jeongin replies back, equally as enthusiastic. He introduces his friends to your dad, who heartily welcomes them and points to the photo on the wall. It’s met with awe. They exchange more words, inaudible over the shaker machines and the clink of ice chips. You’re about to leave Jeongin’s drink at the counter until you hear your dad say, “Of course, you’ve met my daughter already.”

He gestures to you, and you pretend to be preoccupied by the shelf of syrup bottles. Yeji is currently busy measuring out the milk. Strawberry, strawberry, where is it?

Your dad calls your name, waves you over, so you slink over with milk tea in hand. You awkwardly say hello to them, lingering for a few seconds while your dad explains that you also go to SNU. A first-year business major with a potential minor in design, he proudly says. You tersely smile. Jeongin looks surprised by the design minor, probably because you didn’t mention it in the last couple weeks. He’s an education major, no plans for a double major or a minor yet.

You feel yourself trying to blend into the floor, so you excuse yourself to help a new customer. It’s much easier to face a single stranger than a whole group of them.

Jeongin and Co. finally finish chatting with your dad, who is extremely excited to share about the upcoming coffee milk teas to celebrate the beginning of the fall semester. Your little tip-off for Jeongin has now turned into an official public announcement. When they walk past the register to exit, you begin to uselessly organize the straws in their metal container. Black, white, gray, brown, transparent. Your dad thought it was too dull for a boba shop, but your mom, the one who works in marketing, said it was on trend these days.

“Hey,” Jeongin says. His friends are gone, and you relax a little. “Design minor, huh? That sounds cool.”

“Yeah, just thinking ahead,” you reply, motioning vaguely at the shop. You always intended to go into business, but with your dad quitting his law firm job to start Baboba, it felt imperative that you take up design as well for advertising purposes. Your mom is too swamped with work to help. “I did most of this stuff, so I figured I should at least learn more. Any feedback?”

He looks around, scrutinizing the cream walls and the pots of ivy hanging by the window. The quaint white tables and chairs, the giant decal on the window declaring the name of the shop, the wall tacked with Baboba’s history. His eyes pause on the large center frame. With a thick black pen and a steady hand, you wrote the story of how Baboba came to be. Jeongin read it while sipping on his first cup of boba from the shop.

“Maybe a photo-op spot?” he suggests. “With lights and stuff?”

There is a blank wall by the front of the store. If you moved the lone seat for one somewhere else, a nice mural and a bench would fit there. “I’ll ask the owner, but it sounds like a good idea. Thanks.”

The door swings open, and a tour group—at least, you think they are judging by the size and overwhelmed expressions—enters. Jeongin notices them as well.

“I’ll see you next week,” he says. He takes a backward step. “Maybe earlier.”

“Yeah, of course.” He nearly collides with a customer, and you stifle a giggle at his deeply apologetic bow. When he waves goodbye, carefully balancing his box of chicken in the crook of his arm, you return the gesture. “I’ll be on the lookout for you!”

He’s out the door, but you still see him through the window and he does as well. You send your regards one last time. He does the same. Then the copper-haired girl calls for him, and he bounds over, eager to hear what she has to say. A foreign feeling fills your stomach. It’s not hunger, that much you’re certain about.

—

You don’t really have time to think about it. It’s Friday now, and since most of the students have come back and since social media posts and flyers have been made about the brand new coffee milk teas, Baboba is now teeming with customers. Many of them are here to try the place that opened over the summer, but quite a few are becoming loyal members of what Minho is now calling the Baboba cult.

“Who’s the cult leader?” Yeji asks. She’s on her break but keeping you and Minho company on the other side of the boba-making stations. As she chews on a complimentary bungeoppang, she studies the cheat sheet and scans the shelf for the location of the ingredients.

“Jeongin,” you answer without a second thought. To your disappointment, he hasn’t come back yet. You do overhear a few people talking about how they his pictures and his raving reviews of Baboba, but that’s all. “Minho, we need to play catch up for a bit.”

At the register, Minho gives you a thumbs-up. He takes one last order before diving into the mess of empty labeled cups. Meanwhile, you set down two matcha slushes on the counter and shout the order number over the noise. There’s so many people today. The air conditioning is on at full blast, but the front door opens at random intervals, inviting customers but also the late August heat inside.

Your dad must be dying in the kitchen.

Whenever he comes out to bring out chicken or bungeoppang or waffles, he always makes sure to stand under the vent for a few extra seconds. Finished with her snack, Yeji asks if he’s all right, if he wants any help in the back, but he shakes his head. You look at him with concern. His shirt collar is ringed with sweat.

“I’m fine,” he says before you can say anything. “I have a fan and some ice.”

You cannot believe he was a lawyer before this because that is one of the worst arguments he has made. “Dad, that’s not—”

“Go help Minho.”

You reluctantly obey, but you purposely mess up a drink on purpose to set aside for him. Honey green tea, 50% sweetness, and lots of lychee jelly on the bottom—his favorite.

Yeji joins the fray soon. The three of you tackle the beverages with ease, and by sunset, the afternoon rush slows down a considerable amount, enough that you and your dad can eat dinner together in the back.

Four chairs surround an old table, but only two will be in use. On top of the table lies a stack of glass containers in varying sizes. Your mom dropped off some leftovers earlier, so dinner tonight is rice and grilled fish with a large heaping of pickled vegetables. Your dad savors the drink you made, letting out a loud “ah” every time he swallows.

“We’re gonna have to hire more people soon,” you remark, picking apart fish flesh from bones with your chopsticks.

“Do you think Jeongin will be interested?”

You laugh at his one-track mind. If Jeongin is the leader of the Baboba cult, then your dad is the leader of the Jeongin cult. “I asked him about it in the summer. He’s busy with classes.”

“He’s a nice boy. Very polite, very smart. Handsome too.”

You raise an eyebrow at the sudden statement and reach for some kimchi. This heading towards familiar but unwanted territory. “Minho’s also a nice boy.”

“He is, but I also have to pay him. Jeongin gives me money.” He nods to himself. “He would be a good son-in-law.”

“Dad!”

“I was speaking in general terms. Your own mind went there by itself.”

You sigh, he smiles. He’s won the case. Luckily, he doesn’t prod you any further about him, mostly because you want to run your design idea for the photo wall with him. Murals are quite expensive, but wall decals and wallpaper aren’t. A simple wooden bench is also easy to source. As for the “lights and stuff” portion of Jeongin’s suggestion, hanging light bulbs would fit well without compromising the modern interior.

“That sounds nice. Maybe ask our marketing expert later to see what she thinks, but I like it. Free advertising.” He gets up from his chair and gathers your bowl along with his. “I’ll clean up. We should let Minho have his break now.”

He places your uniform cap back on your head and snugly secures it like you’re a child again. You pretend to squirm, but he knows better. Then he lovingly pats your cheek and sends you out to the front.

It’s still relatively quiet, but the after-dinner crowd will come by soon. Friday nights are by far the busiest. While Minho leaves the shop to grab dinner from one of the nearby restaurants, you and Yeji stay behind and fulfill orders at a relaxed pace. She’s less frenzied now, more comfortable with the measurements and ratios. As she smoothly goes around each station, you handle the ten slush teas, all in varying flavors, all from the same single order. The whir of the blender shuts you away from the rest of the world. You’re unaware of someone calling your name until Yeji finally taps on your shoulder.

“The Baboba cult leader is here,” she says. She has two completed, identical drinks in her grasp. “Do you want to take his order? I can finish yours. More practice with slushes.”

You glance at the register where a patient Jeongin is waiting. When he sees you looking his way, you raise a hand in hello. “Yeah, I’ll take his. Have fun.”

A ready smile on your face, you head over to him. He’s in a brown and white striped jacket this evening, but the collar of a white shirt peeks out from underneath. Is his closet mostly white shirts, you wonder. It’s what you typically see him in, and it seems like he has an endless supply.

“Welcome to Baboba. What can I get you?”

As usual, mild popcorn chicken and house milk tea with boba, 75% sweetness. However, the Earl Grey milk tea with boba, 100% sweetness, is new. It’s your preferred drink of choice, albeit with the wrong sweetness level. You think back to the girl with copper hair who touches his arm constantly, but quickly push those thoughts away.

“No ten minute wait today?” he jokes as he watches you stick on the labels.

“No, my dad prepped a lot before we ate. You didn’t want to try the coffee milk teas? They’re really good, especially with cheese foam on top.”

“Oh, yeah? I’ll save that for the first day of class then.” He sighs and looks around the shop. “I’m gonna miss summer.”

You agree and motion for him to sit somewhere as you get started on his drinks. Yeji, leaning against the counter as she keeps an eye on the blender, notices that you have more than one cup.

“He must really like boba if he’s getting two,” she remarks. She’s barely audible over the drone of the machines. “Do you need any help?”

“Can you get a mild chicken when you’re not busy?” you shout back.

She nods. In the meantime, you focus your attention on the ingredients. Both beverages are simple enough, and before you know it, you’re at the pick-up counter with his order.

“No photo-op yet?” he teases. “I was looking forward to taking some nice pictures there. I dressed up all nicely for it too.”

The room feels a little warmer than usual. “It’s still a work in progress. My dad seemed pretty happy with the idea though, so maybe in a few weeks? Sorry we made you waste an outfit.”

“Nah, I’m kidding. Oh, and uh”—he takes a deep breath—“this one’s for you.”

He pushes the Earl Grey milk tea back towards you. You stare blankly at it, unsure of what to say or do. The air conditioning has seemingly turned off, and all the heat of summer has descended upon you.

“Thanks,” you stammer. Nonetheless, your hand circles around it anyway, the chill of the ice against the cup a blessing. “You didn’t need to, but thanks. Really. That’s very sweet of you. You—you know I work here, right?”

He laughs. “Yeah, but I know you like it and… it’s just a gift. Fundraising for my idea, if you wanna look at it that way. But it’s for you. Did I get it right? I remember you telling me that you liked boba more than jelly.”

“50% is my usual, but it doesn’t matter.” You bring the drink to your chest, almost cradling it. Your heart thuds against your apron, wanting to imprint itself on the plastic cup. “Thank you.”

The doors swing open, and a group of rowdy friends clamor in. Yeji yells a welcome as she hurries over to the register as they crowd around the menu. She shoots you a nervous look.

“I need to get back,” you say, “but thanks again. I’ll see you soon?”

After a moment, he replies, “Yeah, I should get going too. Tell your dad hi and bye for me.”

“Of course. Have a nice night.”

You hide your present underneath the counters and fall in line behind Yeji as she taps on the screen of the register. You half listen to the orders. Jeongin left a few seconds ago, so you sneak one last glimpse of him through the window. He sips his drink while he walks. His straw is the same light brown of your cap and apron.

Your gazes meet, and you suddenly crave a particular extra sweet drink.a

a/n: would you believe me if i told you that i wrote this just to show off that receipt i made in the banner?

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ask-icancraft-it · 11 months

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Rose Tented

(( A short bit of Hero’s Cuties in which Felix and Calhoun have a little fun in ‘Sugar Rush.’ NSFW! ))

------

Tamora was sending out all the signals. A gentle squeeze of his thigh, a playful touch to his ear, those hungry looks; none of them were lost on Felix. He knew what his lady wanted. The only conundrum was they were in the middle of watching this evening’s Roster Race, with Ralph, and hundreds of other raucous spectators alongside them. He was nearly at a loss as Tammy ramped up her antics, fiddling with the hammer at his side in a very suggestive sort of way. The crowd suddenly stood up to cheer, and the pair used the opportunity to take their leave.

Reaching the top of the bleachers, the handyman pulled his lady around the back of and into the tented area underneath the nearest box stand. Light seeped through the brightly colored canvas, bathing everything in a rosy hue as they stumbled through the scaffolding. Spotting some crates, Tamora lifted Felix up, plopping him down on top of one. Lips crashing together and hands frantically grasping, the couple had no problem tuning out the rumbling of feet above them. His breath hot and heavy, Felix watched as his lady nimbly unlatched his belt and undid the front of his jeans. “Tammy—” he sighed as she began to stroke him underneath his boxers. “You drive me crazy.” “Pun intended?” she smirked, and he laughed. A well placed squeeze caused his head to spin, and he latched himself to Tamora’s strong shoulders. The blonde delighted in the feeling of his member springing to life under her touch, and with just a little more coaxing, it would be on full display. With an impish grin, Tamora shifted to look at the handyman’s face. And through half lidded eyes, Felix noticed a small pout play on her lips as she glanced him over. “What’s wrong, darlin’?” he cocked his head to the side. “All this pink light is drowning out your ‘honeyglows’…” she replied grumpily. How flushed the handyman would get was one of her favorite parts of these little escapades, and her biggest indicator that she was getting the job done. “Awww, here—” Felix chuckled, taking his lady’s free hand and holding it to his face. “You can still feel ‘em…” As her palm cupped his cheek, she indeed felt the warmth that radiated off of it. “And you can hear how my voice wavers once you’ve got me worked up,” he said huskily into her ear as he gently bucked against her movements down below. “Taste my lips.” Listening intently, Tamora leaned in for a hungry kiss. When they parted, his small puffs of air tickled her neck. “All I smell is cotton candy,” she quipped. “That still leaves sight…” The sergeant scrutinized the handyman’s face once more, trying desperately to find a hint of that darker hue. “Oh, Tammy Jean,” Felix spoke to her in the most reassuring of ways. “Can’t you see the way I look at you? See how hard I’ve gotten, because of you…” Tamora felt a hot sensation stinging her skin, and for a brief moment she was glad the pink light was there to hide just how his words affected her. The 8-Bit had never directly addressed his arousal like that before, and it excited her in ways she could not describe. He was absolutely right. And in continuing to push the handyman towards release, she had a renewed appreciation of all the different ways he reacted to her touch. The sound of his moans, the desperation in his eyes, the heat radiating off his most vulnerable parts. “T-Tammy!” he stammered, clinging to her as his pleasure reached its peak. With a sharp cry, he spilled over the edge, his body shuddering beneath her. Riding out those last few waves, Felix slumped, leaning on his lady for support. The crowd above them roared with applause, and the couple couldn’t help finding the humor in its timing. “That was quite the finish,” the handyman smiled.

#wreck it ralph #hero's cuties #crafty writes #fix it felix #sergeant calhoun #I know the box stands are literally boxes and don't actually have space underneath #but let me have this lol

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officialyourdailyinspiration · 1 year

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King Joash of Judah

1 In the seventh year of the reign of King Jehu of Israel, Joash became king of Judah, and he ruled in Jerusalem for forty years. His mother was Zibiah from the city of Beersheba. 2 Throughout his life he did what pleased the Lord, because Jehoiada the priest instructed him. 3 However, the pagan places of worship were not destroyed, and the people continued to offer sacrifices and burn incense there.

4 Joash called the priests and ordered them to save up the money paid in connection with the sacrifices in the Temple, both the dues paid for the regular sacrifices and the money given as freewill gifts. 5 Each priest was to be responsible for the money brought by those he served, and the money was to be used to repair the Temple, as needed.

6 But by the twenty-third year of Joash's reign the priests still had not made any repairs in the Temple. 7 So he called in Jehoiada and the other priests and asked them, “Why aren't you repairing the Temple? From now on you are not to keep the money you receive; you must hand it over, so that the repairs can be made.” 8 The priests agreed to this and also agreed not to make the repairs in the Temple.

9 Then Jehoiada took a box, made a hole in the lid, and placed the box by the altar, on the right side as one enters the Temple. The priests on duty at the entrance put in the box all the money given by the worshipers. 10 Whenever there was a large amount of money in the box, the royal secretary and the High Priest would come, melt down the silver, and weigh it. 11 After recording the exact amount, they would hand the silver over to the men in charge of the work in the Temple, and these would pay the carpenters, the builders, 12 the masons, and the stone cutters, buy the timber and the stones used in the repairs, and pay all other necessary expenses. 13 None of the money, however, was used to pay for making silver cups, bowls, trumpets, or tools for tending the lamps, or any other article of silver or of gold. 14 It was all used to pay the workers and to buy the materials used in the repairs. 15 The men in charge of the work were thoroughly honest, so there was no need to require them to account for the funds. 16 The money given for the repayment offerings and for the offerings for sin was not deposited in the box; it belonged to the priests.

17 At that time King Hazael of Syria attacked the city of Gath and conquered it; then he decided to attack Jerusalem. 18 King Joash of Judah took all the offerings that his predecessors Jehoshaphat, Jehoram, and Ahaziah had dedicated to the Lord, added to them his own offerings and all the gold in the treasuries of the Temple and the palace, and sent them all as a gift to King Hazael, who then led his army away from Jerusalem.

19 Everything else that King Joash did is recorded in The History of the Kings of Judah.

20-21 King Joash's officials plotted against him, and two of them, Jozacar son of Shimeath and Jehozabad son of Shomer, killed him at the house built on the land that was filled in on the east side of Jerusalem, on the road that goes down to Silla. Joash was buried in the royal tombs in David's City, and his son Amaziah succeeded him as king. — 2 Kings 12 | Good News Translation (GNT) The Holy Bible; Good News Translation Copyright © 1992 by American Bible Society. Cross References: Genesis 21:14; Exodus 30:13; Leviticus 4:24; Judges 9:6; 2 Samuel 5:11; 2 Samuel 8:17; 1 Kings 5:15; 1 Kings 7:48; 1 Kings 14:26; 1 Kings 15:14; 1 Kings 15:18; 2 Kings 13:1; 2 Chronicles 24:5; Mark 12:41; Luke 21:1; 1 Corinthians 4:2; 2 Chronicles 24:25-26

#Joash #repairs #the Temple #the Death of Joash #2 Kings 12 #Book of Second Kings #Old Testament #GNT #Good News Translation #Holy Bible #American Bible Society

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dcviated · 10 months

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@more-than-a-princess sent: Hopefully she had gotten this right. "Okay, so I have gathered the following for today," Sonia began, taking items out of various bags and boxes and placing them in front of Wylan. "American sausages, American sausage bread," she began, picking up a package of uncooked hot dogs and hot dog buns. "Why are there not the same number of sausages as there are breads for them? How odd. Oh, and apparently hamburgers are important today, so I have included those and their breads. Now, there is also ketchup, this bright yellow condiment that is apparently mustard, this bright orange sliced thing that is apparently cheese, crisps, cupcakes with red and blue frosting and toothpicks featuring the American flag, and the light American Bud lager." But that wasn't all. With a small grunt, Sonia heaved the last box onto the table and opened the lid: full of fireworks, most unlikely to be sold even in the most remote American fireworks shops. "So, I am rather puzzled: do Americans blow up this food on the Fourth of July? I believe I have all the components to American independence here but how are they enjoyed?" She just wanted to take part in celebrating some of Wylan's heritage, even if America's customs were rather confusing sometimes. At least this holiday did not require mandatory chocolate: she did not trust the Americans with that anymore, except for their delicious peanut butter chocolate confections. Those, Sonia had to admit, were brilliant.

Out of place, might be the best way to put it. Using one of the open fields around the royal palace for a small (not so) private celebration of American Excellence could be considered blasphemy at that. Wylan is dressed the part of course. Rather than his usual suit and coat that he chose to don when going around in public he's dressed to the 5s. Or the Five-Oh, as it were. Stained white tank top with torn off jeans and a belt buckle that can (and might) be used as a murder weapon. Flipflops and socks. Perfect.

About the only American thing he isn't doing is carrying. This is actually unique compared to his usual, but not out of respect for any laws. Depending on who you asked he didn't exactly have much respect for Novoselic in general, which would be wrong, because he's a puppy for the crown princess. And behind his extravagant public image he was a force for helping out education and children's issues. To say nothing to how he has the uncanny ability to keep Sonia smiling.

All this wrapped up around the small 'barbeque' he set up himself. Charcoal grill, set of cheap aluminum tools, and a wooden picnic table to eat at. Sonia may have brought some beer, but Wylan already had that ready to go if the cooler of ice and Yuengling was anything to go by. That's fine and dandy. Another step of American Excellence would be drinking more than necessary.

"Oh good, you got most everything else we needed then. Such a good helper you are." Wylan chimes happily, possessing none of the mannerisms necessary for his technical 'cosplay' of American Excellent Male #5. "You even brought fancy cups. Look at this! These fireworks! Mwahahaha." An eager rubbing of hands together as he passes by for inspection, making sure to apply a thorough smoocha to Sonia's head before sweeping in and getting things out and set up on the table. A tantalizing display if there ever was one no we're not talking about Sonia.

"Uhhh. I mean. Nobody's stopping us from blowing up the food... you even got some M80s in here, which'd do the trick. But! Plan of action is an old fashioned grill. Have I grilled before? Don't give me that look~" He dismisses her concern should there have been any. "Just because I can't cook doesn't mean I can't grill. I know what a good 'dog looks like, and the same goes for a burger. You got enough here to feed a good few people... and by my guess... yeah, about a dozen security guards are gonna flood in once we set off the fireworks. So yeah. Plenty. A dog and burg for each."

Assured nodding before he starts going about packages, ripping things open and getting everything set out. The charcoals were already white and hot and ready. So was Wylan.

Pulling out a bottle of Yuengling and swiping the bottlecap off with a sword-like swing of the spatula, Wylan holds up a hand in toast.

"Happy America Day, babe. We're gonna make this one nobody forgets." Who knows how much trouble he's about to get in? This is a little louder and more dramatic than his usual antics after all. But so long as Sonia was around... he'd have the usual line of defense. To everyone else's chagrin. After all, good chance that the parents are gonna see this particular show.

#morethanaprincess #muse :: wylan #inbox :: answered ic #YEEEAH HAPPY FOURTH #🦅🦅🦅🎆🎆🎆

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archonists · 2 years

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Ship Wars - Ayaka x Kamaru 1/3: Dancing Raindrops

The downpour began the moment he picked up his father’s books from the merchant. His haori provided protection for the fragile parchment pages at first, but now he felt the raining seeping through the fabric and dripping down his face. Ducking under an overhang to take temporary shelter from the rain, he barely had time to react as he rounded the corner, colliding with someone else who had run for cover. The impact of their bodies sent him stumbling backward when he noticed a spray of pink across his vision. It looked like cherry blossoms scattering. Standing in front of him, her clothes soaked through from the rain and an empty box in her hands, the lid on the damp stone street along with its contents, was Kamisato Ayaka.

“My apologies I –“ Kamaru paused as the same words he began to say echoed from her, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean to run into you, Kamisato-san, I should have been more careful.”

“No, I shouldn’t have rushed as I did. It’s alright,” she spoke softly, glancing down at the sakura mochi at her feet before looking back up at him. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, of course. Are you?” he asked, watching as she nodded and dropped down to pick up the mochi. “Please, let me help.”

As he bent down and started gathering the slightly soggy mochi off the street, Ayaka paused. She’d meant to take them to Ayato as a gift but she couldn’t possibly hand them over to her brother now. Nor could she leave them on the street. Kamaru placed the last of them back in the box, picking up the lid and studying it for a moment.

“These are from the Komore Teahouse, aren’t they? Here, to replace them,” he held out a handful of mora to her, taking his best guess as to how much it cost given he had never been in the Komore Teahouse.

“I couldn’t –“ Ayaka found herself cut off as someone called to her from down the street, turning to see Kozue waving her down.

The shop assistant for the Komore Teahouse offered to let them both stay there for a while to wait for the storm to at least ease up if not entirely subside. The two agreed, following her there, at which point Kamaru insisted on paying for a new box of sakura mochi for Ayaka before they sat down together, a cup of tea in hand.

“You didn’t want the paper box to get wet? That’s why you were running?” Kamaru questioned, looking at beautifully hand painted paper box that the teahouse provided for the mochi. “I understand. I couldn’t let my father’s books be rained on either. These are important medical resources.”

“Does Hanada-sensei always place such large orders?” she motioned slightly toward the towering stack of books tied with twine as she spoke.

“The size is dependent upon the case he is studying. Cases where we could not save the patient or cases in which there was an unidentified disease involved, he always returns to. We want to be sure we find any accessible resources that will prepare us for a similar case, increasing the likelihood of success,” Kamaru explained. “Sometimes we can find many texts, other times none. But it has been more difficult with the Sakoku Decree in place. Just as you will not find glaze lilies growing in Mondstadt, we often find the texts with the most useful seed of knowledge outside of Inazuma’s borders.”

Her elegant and gentle appearance was something Kamaru admired about Ayaka from the moment he first saw her, hoping to exude that same level of poise himself one day, but after running into her a few weeks ago when she rescued someone from hilichurls and brought them to him for treatment, he had begun to admire her intelligence, curiosity, and dedication most of all.

“Hanada-san, do you intend to perform in the next festival?” she asked, having heard several of the locals talking about his performances and the performances his mother used to put on after the last event.

“Is this a question on behalf of the Yashiro Commission or just a question?” he hummed softly as he spoke.

“Just a question,” Ayaka admitted, “The Yashiro Commission will be managing the festival as per usual though.”

“In that case, please call me Kamaru. Almost no one refers to me as Hanada-san. That or Hanada-sensei are used almost exclusively for my father,” he requested softly.

While Kamaru himself referred to almost everyone formally, outside of a select few, he was unused to others being formal with him. Given his father and his grandmother remained alive, Hanada-san could mean either of them, and Hanada-sensei really was exclusive to his father. Kamaru himself knew medicine but not enough to consider himself worthy of being called ‘sensei’ yet. But he noticed, as Ayaka paused, a slight pinkness to her cheeks. They looked just like the sakura mochi.

“Then… Ka-Kamaru-kun, would you perhaps consider calling me Ayaka?” she asked softly, unused to being informal with anyone besides her brother or Thoma – she wanted to be treated normally if she could, just for a little while.

“Ayaka… san.” The honorific was tagged onto the end with a slight delay, Kamaru cautiously speaking her given name aloud as he glanced down at the table in an attempt to hide how nervous it made him. “To answer your question, Ayaka-san, I do intend to dance. I would like to perform something new, though I have not thought of anything yet.”

As she sat silently for a moment, Kamaru raised his gaze to meet her own. Ayaka’s cheeks no longer resembled sakura mochi, but tomatoes. She held his gaze for a brief second before averting her eyes.

“May I see what you did last festival? If it is not impolite of me to ask, I understand you may not have practiced that dance recently…” hesitation laced every word, Ayaka stealing glances at him but never fully looking.

“I don’t mind, but may I borrow your fan?” he spoke softly now that it was his turn to be embarrassed.

Although initially reluctant, as her fan was of great importance to her. But having him dance had been her request. She held out her fan and Kamaru took it, stepping further away from her and holding the fan out to his side. His toe pointed against the ground, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. Thunder crashed as he opened the fan with a single flick of his wrist, eyes staying closed as he moved across the room fluidly. Each motion seemed to be telling a story, and Ayaka almost felt as if she could hear the music that he should have been dancing to. With each thunderous boom offered by the worsening storm, Kamaru added extra flourish to his movements. A small burst of drama to match the weather outside. When he was down, he lowered into a bow, listening to Ayaka as she began to clap. She only spoke when he raised his head, handing her back the fan.

“Do you always dance with your eyes closed, Kamaru-kun?” she wondered, under the impression that it would be difficult to do so.

“No, I um…” he paused, glancing away again as he sat down across from her. “Seeing you watch… I would’ve been too nervous.”

He seemed reluctant to admit it, searching instead for a change of topic when he heard the thunder crash outside once again. He could feel it, that this storm would not let up anytime soon.

“Do you like the rain, Kamisa… Ayaka-san?”

“It is not my favorite thing, if I am honest with you,” she murmured, “My mother loved the rain, but for me it is a bittersweet thing.”

“For me, the rain is beautiful. It seems to send energy throughout my entire body, as if breathing a new life into the world. It is gentle as it waters my flowers, yet powerful as the lightning flashes across the sky,” he paused for a moment, glancing out the window at the downpour. “But you enjoy dancing, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do enjoy various arts. I have studied poetry and dance,” Ayaka noted, watching Kamaru nod thoughtfully. “You appear as if something is on your mind. May I ask what?”

“As I want to try a new performance at the next festival, and you have an understanding of dance, would you like to help me? Not as part of the Yashiro Commission. I was simply thinking you might have a story you wish to see told.”

She froze. It took a moment for her to think his offer through, wondering if it would be permissible for her to suggest what the idea that came to mind. Eventually, she nodded.

“I think I have an idea,” she began, though she was left no time to explain as the door to the teahouse opened and Thoma stepped inside.

“Ojou, I brought your umbrella!” Thoma held it out to her as she stood up, caught off guard by his sudden arrival.

“Oh! Thoma, you surprised me. Thank you,” she took it, picking up her replacement box of sakura mochi before glancing back at Kamaru. “Here.”

She then handed the umbrella to him, offering a slight bow in farewell.

“Are you certain about me borrowing this? Will you be alright?” Kamaru asked, taking it from her as if it were made of glass.

“Thoma and I will share an umbrella. You can return it to me tomorrow afternoon, while we discuss your performance for the festival. Shall we meet here?” she suggested it to him as she moved toward the door, standing by Thoma.

“I will see you tomorrow then. Thank you,” he bowed to her, waiting for her to leave before thanking the employees of the teahouse for sheltering them and heading home with his father’s books.

The next day at the teahouse, the performance “Tsubaki” was born.

#genshin impact #drabble #kamisato ayaka #hanada kamaru #Kamaru x Ayaka: The Flower That Weathers The Storm

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lilypad-jazz · 2 years

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Courting | Lilia X Reader

Summary: You had no idea you were being courted, I mean it wouldn’t be the first time Night Raven had a ghost problem!

Pairing: Lilia X Reader

Pronouns: None used/gender neutral

[A/n]: For a witch I know an incredibly small amount about fae but it’s fine, rocking with it anyways

The past few weeks had been rough on you, having to already deal with the antics of your friends as well as school, you cherished your free time. Though it had rather quickly become spoiled by some unruly ghost, at least that’s who you believed it to be.

You were oftentimes finding small gifts or notes left behind by seemingly no one. When you would step out of the shower there would be messy words scrawled into the fog on the mirrors, there were small trinkets left on your desk or bed when your back was turned, and when you woke after a long night you would find water on your nightstand. You had taken to writing down every message left for you, so as not to forget, and all the trinkets left behind, mostly colorful buttons or shiny beads, had been stored in a small box atop your desk. Not knowing who was leaving the water made you hesitant to drink it, but the plants in your windows were always grateful for a small drink.

“(Y/n)! You’re up early today!” Lilia, who seemed to be in an extra cheery mood today, greeted you in the Hall of Mirrors.

“Ah hello Lilia, and yeah I had to wake up a bit earlier than usual today. I promised Professor Crewel that I would help gather ingredients for next week’s classes in order to get extra credit.” You greeted the fae with a gentle smile, enlightening him to your tiring plans for the day.

“Say, what are you doing up this early? I know the fae don’t necessarily sleep and all but I don’t think many others are awake at this hour.” It was when you gave him a quick once over that you noticed him holding something behind his back.

“Ah, I was just off to grab something for one of the dorm mates. They weren’t sure where to find it so I offered to grab it for them!” You had a feeling whatever he had grabbed was what was hidden behind his back, but you didn’t want to pry. So with a wish of a good day, you were off.

Helping Professor Crewel had taken longer than you had anticipated, some of the items needed apparently were not easy to obtain and posed quite a challenge. Regardless you were all the more eager to return to your room and rest, a shower could wait till tomorrow morning. Upon returning though, you took note of the cup of water as well as the sealed container of food placed on top of your desk.

“Odd, I don’t remember asking anyone to bring me anything, or anyone saying that they had left something.” You checked your phone just in case you had somehow missed a message, but everything was how you remembered it to be. The container of food had a note resting on its lid though, maybe that would tell who had left it.

“I’m told you are quite fond of this meal and decided to grab some from the cafe for you, skipping meals isn’t good for your health!” The note was written in an oddly father-like manner, despite that, you were still interested in the food. Whoever had written the note was right about you liking the contents, it had been a favorite of yours but had been hard to find as the school’s lunch staff didn’t make it often.

“How thoughtful, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to eat it, I am terribly hungry after all that work anyways.” You sat yourself down at your desk, opening the container of food and picking up the silverware laid beside it. As you ate through all the food, you scrolled through your phone, taking the time to catch up on Cater’s Magicam posts as well as what Vil had posted that day. You soon found your thoughts shifting to a particular vice housewarden though. It wasn’t your place to pry but you couldn’t help but be curious about what he was grabbing for a supposed underclassman. It hadn’t occurred to you at that moment, but you also hadn’t been left anything that morning. Typically you woke up to something set atop your bedside table, but there was nothing this morning. Perhaps the ghost hadn’t anticipated you waking up that early? Were you even sure it was a ghost at that point?

As you sat and thought, an idea had struck you. How you hadn’t thought of this before was beyond you, but you had thought of it now so that was good enough. As you set up for bed that night, you set your phone up to record your bedroom. Whoever came to leave you gifts would be caught on camera, finally revealing who was behind the whole situation.

Much to your surprise, you had found it wasn’t a ghost. As the video played through the course of the night, the footage being played at a faster speed, you saw a familiar face teleport into your room, leaving behind a small gift before leaving the same way he arrived.

“Lilia was the one leaving everything for me?” You looked over at the note from the food, you had left it on your desk, there was something strangely comforting about it. As you stared at it, you slowly began to recognize it as his handwriting.

“I’ve gotta go find him.” You hurried to make yourself presentable before rushing from your room, rushing through hall after hall of the school looking for him. A noise of frustration escaped your lips as you found yourself unable to find him, why did he have to be so difficult on today of all days?

“(Y/n), you ok?” You looked up to see Silver peering at you with a curious look on his face.

“Silver! Your dad, Lilia, where is he?” Startled by your sudden outburst, Silver took a half step back. After recollecting himself, he pointed you in the direction he had last seen him, the cafeteria.

“Thanks!” You gave him a rushed expression of gratitude as you left to find Lilia, trying to catch him before he disappeared again.

“Lilia!” You caught the man just as he was walking out of the cafe, his face lighting up as he spotted you rushing towards him.

“Hello (Y/n)!” He greeted you just as excitedly.

“Why are you leaving all that stuff in my room? The little buttons and beads, the water, the food?” Lilia paused for a moment, his expression shifting into a more nervous and flustered look.

“How’d you find out?” His eyes shifted from yours to the hall around you, back to yours.

“I left my phone recording overnight, I wanted to know who was sneaking into my room every day. Why were you doing that?”

“In fae culture, there are a few ways of courting another. One of those ways is leaving behind trinkets that remind you of the one you are trying to court. The food and water was just for your health.” Suddenly it was your turn to be flustered, Lilia was trying to court you?

“I uh, I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, I probably should’ve asked before courting you I suppose.”

“No, I mean, I’m ok with it, with you. I accept?” You were fumbling over your words, trying to assure the fae while also still processing the whole situation. Lilia just smiled at you lovingly, finding your sudden nervousness to be cute.

“Does this mean I can take you out for a date then?”

“Yes,” it was hushed and barely audible as you flushed a deeper shade, struggling still to comprehend everything happening.

“Great! I’ll see you after classes tomorrow then!” Lilia walked off without another word, leaving you to stand in the hall a blushing, fumbling mess, a sight of which he would commit to memory.

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