#set us back to square one.

[apollo-zero-one]

I could get a hotplate, an electric kettle, and a camping sink- the kind with a foot pump and a refillable reservoir- and a washbasin with a scrub rack, and a 5 gallon water jug. And I could make my bedroom into a tiny apartment. I am retreating from my family and if I can't move out, I will simply move inward. I will pay whatever rent they decide on given my continued use of space, water, electricity, and the wifi. I will however make it clear that I am no longer contributing to groceries and will be taking nothing else from the kitchen ever again, nor will I be making any use of any of the dishware. I will reclaim my mini fridge and the handful of cutlery and bowls I purchased when I briefly lived in a dorm, and they will not leave my new mini apartment.

#This is a plan not an i am already in the processess thing. But I require an attainable plan in order to move forward so. #tomorrow I will clear out my room (he says for the thousandth time knowing he never does it) and rearrange things #And claim back my mini fridge. Because it is mine I paid for it and my family isn't taking good enough care of it anyway. #technically the air fryer is also mine but its not worth saving... #i already had an electric kettle and I'm kinda pissed that my parents threw it away. it was practically brand new and they didn't even put #it up in a cuboard or something. nope. into the dumpster with one of apollo's few adult possessions. #but no matter. I will get a new one. I will set up my own tiny kitchen. #I will still be forced to use the communal bathroom unfortunately. But I can do my best to minimize that. #I already don't keep any personal items in there and I use all my own soaps that come with me in and out of the bathroom #I can construct dividers in my room to make it feel like separate spaces. It honestly has more square footage than most dorms around here #so if I work on space-efficient storage. taller vertical things. It will be totally fine

[rainst4r]

It's crazy how much more rewarding life is when you get to live it authentically and unapologetically and I'm just really proud of how far I've come. I love being excited for the future.

#just musing into the void #but I cant stop crying Im so genuinely happy with who I am and where I am now #im finally at a place where I can regulate my emotions and understand and have made peace with where my pain/trauma is coming from #im finally at a place where I dont have to survive by numbing everything out anymore #and im getting better at taking up space and dropping my mask and its made such a physical difference in my body its so nice #its so funny that spending one week with my family was all it took to send me back to square one #but I wasnt only able to completely recover by myself but now im even healthier than when we left #because now not only have i vocalized and set boundaries with people but ive also become even more thankful for the life ive built #and its crazy how every time i used to hit rock bottom i would feel less and less hope #but the last few times which get farther and farther between have left me even more hopeful and appreciative of myself than i thot could #its all coming together the meds the therapy the trauma and burnout healing #all of my self work ive been doing over the last few years is really opening the door for what life can be #and im so thankful and happy and idk how to even express it #personal

[iknityounot]

(Long post, sorry y'all)

A little more than two years ago now, my grandmother passed away. She and my grandpa had moved down to my home town a few years before so we could take care of them. I brought them groceries once a week, helped them write checks, fixed tvs, and found lost things. I was really close with my grandma.

In addition to her hilarious personality and dry wit, one of my favorite things about her was that she was a painter and a crafter like me! She used to crochet, and I took her to the craft store a couple of times so she could get more yarn and books on crochet. But her arthritis and the shaking in her hands kept getting worse, so she eventually had to stop.

She kept her most recent project, a granny square blanket, safely packed away in a plastic bin. She told all of us she was going to finish it one day.

Her hands never got better, and when she got sick, and we found out it was cancer, she rapidly deteriorated.

After she passed, I went to work helping my mom clean out my grandparents apartment so we could move my grandpa in with her. In our frantic cleaning, I found that bin again:

DOZENS of granny squares, dozens of half used skeins. I asked my mom what she wanted me to do with it, and she said she didn't care. I set it aside and later took it home.

Maybe a month later, that tumblr post about the Loose Ends Project was going around. It felt like a sign--I was never going to learn to crochet in order to finish my grandmother's blanket. But they might be able to help!

So I filled out the interest form. They got back to me SUPER quick. And maybe 2 weeks later, I was paired with volunteer in my state (only 2 hours away!) and the box of yarn, granny squares, and my grandmother's crochet hook were in the mail. That was at the end of January this year.

Over the next couple of months, my "finisher" emailed me regular updates on her progress, and asked me questions on my preferences for how she constructed the final blanket.

At the end of August, the blanket was done!

I had always intended the blanket to be a gift for my mother. So I cleaned it up, put it in the only bag I had big enough to fit it, and drove to my mom's. I gave the blanket to her and she was gobsmacked. I explained to her all about Loose Ends, and how someone volunteered to finish the piece for us. She was speechless. (I was quite pleased with this, because I am not the best at giving gifts, so this was a pretty exciting reaction!)

She said that it was the most thoughtful gift she had ever been given. She said "your grandma would love this". To which I replied, "yeah, I know she really wanted to finish it a couple of years ago". But that was when my mom dropped the bomb of a century on me--she told me that my grandma had started making those granny squares OVER 30 YEARS AGO. She had started the blanket when my grandpa was staying in the hospital, but that was back when my mom was younger than I am now! My grandma had packed them all away, planning on finishing it, when my grandpa was sent home from the hospital. Then it went from house to house, from condo in Chicago to their apartment in my hometown. All that time and my grandma had wanted to finish it, but couldn't. First because she was busy, then because she forgot how to do it, then because of her arthritis, and then because of the cancer. My mom said she had given up on expecting my grandma to finish it. 

She said I brought a piece of her childhood with her mom out of the past.

And really, all of this is to say, if you have seen or heard about the Loose Ends Project and have an uncompleted project or piece from a loved one who has passed away--these are your people. They were so kind and treated my project with such care. That box probably would have been found by my own grandkids one day if I hadn't heard about Loose Ends.

Five stars, absolutely worth it!

(From what I understand, you can sign up to volunteer too! If you have time to share, it might be worth checking out!)

#loose ends #the loose ends project #joy knits #text #long post #knit #knitting #crochet #crocheting #craft #crafting #diy #crochetblr #yarnblr #yarn #knitblr

[wolfies-toys]

I've been sitting on this pattern and tutorial for a while now! so time to finally share it with you! I was lamenting that the jellycat pip and sugar mice were long retired and difficult to get your hands on unless you are willing to pay much more than they retailed for each mouse, so i decided to try and eyeball a pattern and make some myself! they're not exact as i only used constructed visual references but they're close! please note that this pattern set is intended for personal use only. Rough tutorial under the cut!

This pattern is for printing onto A4 but you can check your scale with the measurements I've provided or just play around with how big or small you want to try and make them! i didn't really get any wip photos of pip mouse but it's method is largely the same with the nose being the major change, which i will detail in text in the instructions below.

for sugar mouse i would recommend using polar fleece as it will act the right way for the ears to do their squishy marshmallow looking thing. but minky should also work or other similar fabrics! for pip mouse if you can find a similar curly looking fabric with a thin backing that'll be ideal but fleece will also work well, you just wont get the furry texture, you want a fabric with a little bit of stretch to it. i however would not recommend fabrics like felt or non stretch cotton for these guys as it's likely to not take shape the same as there's no give to the fabric.

once you have printed out the pattern and cut the pieces in your fabric, you'll want to sew the ears up and turn them inside out, then put them aside for later. just leave them as is for now but here you can see i was playing around with pinching the turned through ear into shape.

Then moving on, sew the back pieces together along the spine and front of face. you then want pull the bottom open ends apart gently and place the open sides flat up against the base piece so that they're aligned, it can be good to pin this in place so it doesn't shift.

then, get your tail rope, and tie a knot at either end, placing the base of it inbetween the seam at the butt so that it'll sit in the right place, then sew the seam up directly with the tail in place, make sure you sew through the rope to secure it and make sure it doesnt shift. Sew around the bases seam leaving a hole in one side so that you can then turn your mouse through.

once turned through you will want to stuff your mouse with polyfill quite a bit so it takes shape! i like to put weighted beans in mine for extra effect, you can use dried rice or wheat too, just sew a little circle pouch a bit smaller that the mouses base with scrap fabric and fill and seal! then insert into the turning hole while you stuff. once stuffing is done you can sew the hole up with a ladder stitch. the weight from the beads will allow your mouse to sit up quite well.

next you will want to get those ears you put aside, take each corner and bring the ends together in the middle. then sew them gently together at the ends with one or two stitches in about the same spot. you want them to look 3d so dont sew the ends to the back of the ear, just end to end so they meet in the center.

Then pin the ears in place on the head

then you need to ladder stitch the ears in place while they're pinned so they dont shift around, go all the way around the outside edge of each.

now you're almost done! next they just need a face! sugar mouse only needs embroidery by way of a french knot for both the eyes and nose (you can find good video tutorials on how to sew a french knot online), pip mouse will also need a french knot for the eyes but has a separate process for it's nose. (for the pip mouses nose you will need to leave the marked nose hole open and then stitch the nose fabric to the square nose backing in line with the dotted direction on the pattern, (it should look kind of baggy when it's unstuffed) sew it up completley with no hole, then cut a tiny slit in the backing and add polyfill there before closing with a basic stitch, then you ladder stitch the nose directly to the marked nose hole)

in order to hide the embroidery anchor knots i find the best way is to start by going down through the middle of the ears and then coming back up where you want the eye to be, and then going back down and up through the ear for the finishing knot, as it creates a very easy cover for them and looks nice and clean!

then you have yourself a little buddy!

haha they're great to squish! if you use this pattern i'd love to see your results!

#toys #plushie #pattern #tutorial #made by me

[lovebugism]

eddie x shy!reader , she asks him on a date by giving him tickets to a concert and he thinks its a joke til she walks away feeling rejected & he realizes she’s like dead serious & goes up to her

thanks for your request! i sorta broke my own heart with this one — the one where eddie rejects you and immediately regrets it (shy!reader, hurt/comfort, 2.6k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

Robin tells you that he’s nice. She says he won’t turn you down because he loves Mötley Crüe too much and he’s called you pretty too many times. Robin Buckley is many things — a dork, a polyglot, and your best friend, to name a few — but she’s never been a liar.

She wouldn’t lead you to the slaughter that way. She wouldn’t just let you get your heart broken. More than anything, though, she knows Eddie far better than you do — partly because she’s actually able to talk to him.

So despite your lingering worry, you swallow her words like a shot of vodka and maneuver helplessly through the bustling crowd of the Hawkins High lunchroom.

Eddie Munson sits alone at the Hellfire Club table — the smallest one in the very back corner by the large square window. 

Instead of eating a real meal (even though the hamburgers might be horse meat instead of cow), the boy eats crumbled-up pretzels from a worn ziplock bag. He pinches them into his mouth blindly because his chocolate syrup gaze is trained on the well-loved book folded in his left hand. 

J.R.R Tolkien’s, The Hobbit.

It makes you smile softly to yourself. You hope one day you’ll have the courage to tell him you’ve read that book so many times you could recite it in your sleep. You hope that day comes soon.

“Eddie?” you call softly to him when you reach his table. Your sweaty fingers fidget with the concert tickets you clutch between them.

He just thinks he hears his name at first. It’s barely audible over the sounds of muddled chatter in the cafeteria. He glances up from his book, not expecting anyone to be there, and gaping when he finds you standing in front of him. 

His cinnamon eyes go wide. The boy blinks owlishly at you once, then flits his eyes behind you like he’s expecting to see someone there. When he doesn’t, he blinks at you again. 

“Hi…” you waver with a trembling smile.

Eddie grins back, still obviously confused. “…Hi?”

“I, uh… I don’t know if you heard, but— well, obviously you heard, that’s… that’s stupid,” you laugh at yourself, shaking your head with your eyes squeezed shut. You’re already stumbling all over yourself, and you haven’t even managed a full sentence yet.

“Mötley Crüe is coming to Indianapolis in a few days, and a friend of mine was selling tickets, so I bought them. For us. Potentially. You know, if you wanted to… to go… With me.”

Your offer lingers and hangs in the air between the two of you.

A smile quirks at the right side of Eddie’s pink mouth. It isn’t a kind one, though. It looks more cynical than anything else.

His head juts back. He’s almost peering at you from the corner of his eye as though you were some suspicious thing he needed to analyze. A laugh sputters from his lips. “Did Buckley put you up to this? Is that what this is?”

Your faltering smile fades entirely. Your features crumble in disappointment.

This worse he could say is no, Robin had told you. 

You hadn’t prepared yourself for this.

“…What?” you wonder, voice fragile like a wilting flower petal.

Eddie chuckles to himself. He sets the book down to give you his full attention, though you’re not sure you want it anymore. “You know, I knew she was upset about me trying to set her up with Vickie and all, but this is a… whole new low.”

“Vickie…?” you murmur through a tightening throat, brows pinched in confusion. “I don’t understand—”

“Look, sweetheart… Tell Robin that this was a real funny joke, but I’m not interested, alright?”

Your chest aches with an empty feeling. You think your heart might be breaking. “J—Joke?”

“—Actually, tell her that this was very not metal of her, and that I will get my vengeance,” Eddie says with a sardonic laugh deeply rooted in his chest. His smile looks almost like he pities you as he shakes his head, eyes twinkling with pessimism. “I’m sorry she sent you to do her dirty work, but… You should probably go now. This is, you know, the Hellfire Club table and everything, so…”

You swallow thickly, then nod.

Eddie doesn’t want you here. Eddie doesn’t want you at all.

“I’m— I’m sorry if I…” The words get caught in your throat. You clear it and blink back burning tears. “I was just… I thought that maybe—”

“Eddie!” a boyish voice calls from across the cafeteria, only halfway drowned out through all the noise. A group of guys in Hellfire shirts walk towards the table.

You take that as your cue to leave. You don’t want to burst into tears in front of your crush and all of his friends.

“I’m sorry,” is all you manage to choke out before turning on your heel and walking away.

He’d been smiling up until that point — like it was all a big joke to him — because it was. 

The girl he’s been fawning over since junior year comes out of nowhere with tickets to see one of his favorite bands? That was the kind of shit he dreamt about — the kind of plan only someone as vicious as Robin Buckley could concoct to hurt his feelings. And after spending so many years being the brunt of bullies, Eddie was tired of being embarrassed.

And at first, he thought you were just a really good actor. You did look almost genuinely confused when he’d snuffed out the plan so quickly. But those wide, glassy eyes you looked at him with — he doesn’t know if a person can fake that sort of heartbreak. That looked real.

Eddie had been close to commending himself for not letting Robin win. He thought he was a genius for not allowing Buckley to use you against him. Now he knows he’s the same dumbass he's always been.

“Hey, man…” Gareth wavers as he sits at his designated seat adjacent to Eddie’s. The boy’s forlorn and faraway gaze doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the club. They all share looks of confusion, but the sandy-haired boy is the only one brave enough to speak up. “You okay?”

Eddie keeps his gaze trained on your figure as you maneuver through the crowd. Robin looks happy for you when you reach her, but the puppy-like excitement washes away when she notices how sad you are. 

He feels like someone’s shoved a knife between his ribcage. He wonders if this is what a broken heart feels like.

“I think I screwed up,” he answers, laughing cynically at himself. “Like, big time.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, right?” Dustin jokes before popping a fry into his mouth. He laughs, but no one else joins him. “…Right?”

Eddie glares at the boy.

He cowers. “…Kidding. I was kidding.”

—————

He stews over it all day — your offer and what he said to you and how sad you looked after he said it. 

He pictures your pinched brows and big, glassy eyes and his chest starts to burn a little. Everyone always thought he was some raging asshole just because he had crazy hair and a crazier taste in music. Now he feels like they were sort of right about him. 

Whatever chance he had with you has surely turned to dust by now. It wouldn’t surprise him after he shrugged you off like he did. But after waging a nearly four-hour war in his mind between lunch and dismissal, he knows he has to make sure. 

He has to know if he’s ruined things entirely or if there’s a glimmer of hope he can hang onto.

He comes to you at the end of the day, dripping in metaphorical blood from the mental carnage he’d endured. He stood across the hall from you for five whole minutes as he tried to come up with something to say. He walks to your locker empty-handed and just blurts, “I thought you were joking,” like a total idiot.

Through the muddled conversation in the bustling hallway, you hadn’t heard him coming. You didn’t know he was there at all until he was right next to you. Seeing someone so suddenly close to you makes you flinch — hard.

And it’s not totally Eddie’s fault. You’re jumpy and too easily frightened at times, but he can’t help but feel like he’s messing things up more than he already has.

“Oh…” you deflate with a sigh, eyes still wide and swimming with something he can’t quite place. You look like you’re almost relieved to see him. Almost. 

“Sorry— shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to…” The boy stumbles over his words, then trails off when they don’t come out the way he wants. He shakes his head and finds it in himself to smile. It’s bitter, though, filled with self-abhorrence. “I wasn’t trying to scare you.”

With one hand still clutching the door of your locker, and the other gripping a stack of textbooks, you peer at him through your lashes. “I know. It’s okay. I just— I wasn’t expecting it…”

He grimaces. “Sorry…”

“’S okay,” you repeat.

“I, um, I only came in so hot ‘cause I wanted to apologize— you know, for earlier. In the lunch room,” he stammers and puts his fidgeting hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. He tries to laugh, but it comes out more as an insincere puff of air. “Honestly, I thought you were joking.”

Your brows pinch. “Joking? Why would I—”

“I sorta locked Robin and Vickie in the old chemistry room in the east wing a few days ago,” he confesses, bouncing his shoulders. “Just because I know they both like each other and everything, and I thought maybe they’d finally admit it if they were alone together.”

“Okay…?” 

“Well, they didn’t. And Robin was pissed. So I thought she was using you to get back at me.”

“Using me?” you echo.

“Yeah. ‘Cause I’ve kinda been into you since junior year and everything,” he admits with a nonchalant shrug. The corner of his rosy mouth quirks into a half-smile. “It’s, like, the one card Robin could use against me that would actually hurt, you know? If she did try to get me back.”

Your heart swells so much it hurts, almost — the same kind of hurt you'd felt in the lunch room earlier. It feels fiery, like someone’s taken a match to your ribcage and lit your heart aglow. But it’s different now. This is a good hurt, a happy hurt.

“Really?” you squint at him, your voice high and light. Your lips twitch like you want to smile, but you don’t let yourself — lest this all turns out to be some kind of elaborate dream. Or a joke.

“Since we had Mr. Kaminsky’s together, yeah,” Eddie affirms with a slow, confident nod. His chocolate eyes flit up to the water-stained ceiling. “Let’s see… We were learning about reproduction, and Tommy Hagan made some stupid joke about using you as a real-life model instead of the pictures in the textbook—”

“I remember,” you nod, trying not to shudder at the memory that still haunts you. 

“And I told him that he was making it real obvious that he’s never seen an actual vagina before and that the one in the textbook looked a lot like his mom’s,” the boy recalls with a soft laugh. “And you looked over at me, and you smiled, and I… have been a goner ever since.”

He looks down at you again, all sheepish like he isn’t gluing your broken heart back together again. His chocolate eyes twinkle in a way you’ve never seen before. They sparkle in their softness. You have to look away before it turns you into a puddle at his feet. 

You smile widely into your locker, pursing it off to the side in attempts to conceal its brightness. 

“No one’s ever stuck up for me like that before,” you confess quietly after a few moments, peeking at him from the corner of your eye. “I’m pretty sure I gushed to Robin about it for days.”

“Yeah?” Eddie hums. He can feel his hopes getting too high.

“Yeah. I told her all about the pretty boy in the back of the room that finally got Tommy H. to leave me alone.”

“Oh… You think he’s pretty, huh?” the boy teases despite his pink cheeks.

You nod — made much braver by his previous admission — though you still have a little trouble looking him in the eye. You drag a notebook from your locker as you tell him, “I think he’s very pretty.”

“Well, I have it on good authority that the boy you think is pretty is super sorry for being such an asshole to you earlier,” Eddie murmurs, his nose scrunched and head tilted. “And that he’d really love to go to that concert with you— if you haven’t found some other schmuck to go with you, that is.”

Your eyes light up like a Christmas tree as you beam at him. No one’s ever looked at him that way before now.

“I’d like that,” you nod, then shrug. “I don’t think I’d wanna go with anyone else, anyway…”

“So, it’s a date?” Eddie asks, just to make sure. His raised brows disappear behind his fluffy bangs. His chin tilts to his chest as he smiles hopefully down at you.

You nod, and repeat it more softly than the loudmouth boy. “It’s a date.”

Eddie can feel himself grinning like an idiot. His cheeks ache with how wide he’s beaming at you, but he's too lovesick to stop. Like squinting into the sun, smiling every time he looks at you is muscle memory by now. 

And what did a freak like him ever do to deserve a date with the freakin’ sun?

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #bug's summer fic fest!

[nempne]

𝘊𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘚𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘊𝘦𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘛𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴

Yeah… It's just we're putting new cover sheets on all the TPS reports before they go out now… So if you could go ahead and try to remember to do that from now on, that'd be great…

-Office Space (1999)

§5

26 swatches

grey and white borders, thin and thick varieties for each

3 texture styles for each; high texture, low texture, and dots

available in rectangular and square

dirty/dusty/stained options

filed under MISC

simsfileshare download - updated 9 Jan '24

tips, details and other stuff:

tip: try using rectangular tiles with light borders in manufactured homes like mobile homes.

tip: for stained tiles of better variety, alternative between the dirtiest swatches and the yellow-toned ones (they're next to each other in the catalog, the last swatches)

I started this many months back (right when we got the news of editable ceilings!), and I'm just now finishing them because I'm slow and I'm trying to wipe out all my simple projects at the moment to work on something bigger and more challenging.

My lights aren't ready yet, I'm still working on what I want from them. In the meantime, check out these!: Classic Ceiling Lamp Set by DOT

late edit!: if you want to dirty these up way more, please feel free!! just let me know and also don't paywall it?? i'm pretty friendly so don't be scared to send me a message.

#s4cc #sims 4 download #build buy #ts4 #s4mm

[luveline]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐲 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

miguel assumes you're mad when you stop initiating kisses and tries to get back on your good side —featuring grumpy but lovelorn miguel and his head-in-the-clouds spider-girl. requested here. fem!reader, 3k.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"Gàn de piàoliang!" cheers the puppy at the bottom of your screen. Well done.

You smile at him and slide your finger across a lilac candy to make another three-match. 

The music playing from your phone quietens as a text lines the top of the screen. You click it as soon as you recognise the contact picture beside it, your handsome Miguel with a filter over his face that paints rosy pink hearts over his high cheeks. 

Finished. his text says. 

Miguel is a man of little words. Over the phone he talks even less, easier to draw blood from stone than harness a conversation with him that isn't in person. His text demarcates the wall of messages you sent him earlier, not wanting for a reply but bursting to tell him things as they happened. 

You put your phone down carefully. It's one of your most treasured possessions, shimmering and high tech, you can fold it down the middle to fit in your little spider suit pockets, though the amount of charms and beads hanging from it now impedes that particular functionality.

Miguel gave it to you as a gift without any fanfare around the time you started staying in his apartment in the society, and while your bunking with him was supposed to be temporary, the phone is for keeps. You've decorated it accordingly.

The best charm is a beaded translucent jellyfish, and not solely because it's beautiful: Miguel has a matching one that he showcases shamelessly. 

You rush into his neat bathroom and lean heavily on the counter, propping your hand on the faucet to hold your weight as you assess your reflection in the mirror. When you turn your face, your nose shines in the light. 

You decide it's best to wash up. Miguel will be back soon enough. 

You get distracted by skincare, toner pads resting on your cheeks when you hear the door opening. A waste to take them off prematurely, you pat them flat to your skin and meet Miguel in his bedroom half ready. 

"I can see why you didn't text me back," he says, giving you a quick glance from the corner of his eye as he walks past the bed and your waiting phone. He beelines for the kitchenette and disappears around the corner. "What do they do, the squares?" 

"They're calming, I think," you say, following his path from the bathroom to the small kitchen. 

His apartment is big but not huge. The main room is his bedroom, with enough space for a couch and a TV he never uses that comes out of the wall. To the right is a utility closet for storage and a walk-in wardrobe, and to the left lies the kitchen and the bathroom. It takes you all of ten seconds to be by his side. 

Bottles rattle as Miguel opens the fridge. He grabs sparkling water for himself and a fruit tea concoction for you. You hadn't followed him for that, but you accept it anyway. 

He looks tired. Tilting his head back to drink, you eye the stiff set to his shoulders and the way he rolls his arm out, orchestrating an offer for a massage in your head. 

Miguel squints at you. "What?" 

"What?" you ask back. 

He doesn't explain. He screws the lid back on to his water and closes the fridge. 

With his empty hand, Miguel reaches for your face. You stay very still in anticipation of his touch, imagining how he might take your cheek in his hand and pull you close, or perhaps curl thick, long fingers behind your neck and guide your chin up. He can be rough in odd ways, as though he's unaware of his strength. 

"It's slimy," he says in disgust, pulling a toner pad from your left cheek. 

"It's going to make my skin clearer." 

"There's nothing wrong with your skin." True or not, you know it's Miguel's way of being sweet. He takes the second toner pad too, tossing them in the trash with a huff. "That's better. You look normal. Or, as normal as possible." 

"Jerk!" you say through a smile, thinking now's the moment. 

But Miguel hasn't peeled away your skincare to kiss you. He pats a spot of dampness on your cheek away with the back of his hand and turns on his heel, gunning for a change of clothes and a shower, if you know him. "Drink your tea. Did you eat? Me preocupo por ti." 

You sigh and trail after him. "I was waiting for you to come back. It's Vietnamese week in the cafeteria, they're making cá kho tộ. Do you like that? It's sweeter than hake." 

"It's fish?" 

"Catfish. Caramelised catfish." You sit down on the bed, flipping your phone open to play your game while he decides. 

That, and to ignore the inkling of doubt blossoming like mould under heat in your chest. An achy sort of worry… 

Does Miguel not want to kiss you? 

"What's the other option? I don't like sweet foods." 

You knew that already. "You could make pasta?" you suggest. 

"You'd love that." 

"Are you teasing me?" 

Miguel pokes his head out of the wardrobe, and with it comes his naked chest. His muscles are insane, lean tanned stretches of cord pulled taut as he grabs a shirt. "I'm making an observation. You like carbs." 

"Everyone likes carbs, Miguel, especially Spiders." 

"I know, but I don't make anyone else dinner." He's definitely flirting now, his voice playful and soft. "I'll make you pasta if you want." 

Why hasn't he kissed you? Offering to make you dinner, smiling at you just as soon as his face has been pulled through his t-shirt. He's acting as affectionate as a man who'd like to kiss you without pulling through. 

Well, maybe you kiss him too much. Come to think of it, you initiate the vast, vast majority of kisses, and you must kiss him twice a day at least. Miguel clearly favours you, but it's possible he isn't interested in as much physicality as you and hasn't had the heart to say. He likes watching vintage movies at night and half the time you're not interested in those. You haven't said a word about it because things between you are new and you like his being happy watching the things he enjoys. Miguel could be doing the same, allowing hugs and kisses he doesn't necessarily want in order to avoid hurting your feelings. 

A favourite phrase of his cuts through your thinking, "¿Alguien en casa?" Anyone home?

"Oh, sorry, were you not getting enough attention?" you ask him, pretending to be more nonchalant than you are as you open the match game on your phone. 

The puppy barks hello. 

"Ah, you're a cómico now." Miguel sits on the bed beside you in sweatpants, reaching across the sheets to give your arm a shake. "I said, I'll make you pasta if you want pasta." 

"I want what you want," you say honestly. 

He stares at you. You're not sure what he's confused about. "Alright. Did you want it now?" he asks. 

"Yes, serf," you say, laughing when he knocks your phone out of your hand and stands in a dramatised annoyance. 

You play a couple levels of your game to give him space. He's quiet as he washes his hands and gets out the cookware, but he appears curious in the door, rag between his hands. "You're not gonna come and sit with me? I really am your maid." 

Eager for an invitation, you join him in the kitchen. You brace yourself behind you to hop onto the counter and find his hands on your hips, helping you up. 

Miguel meets your eyes as he does, not close but enough to beckon down for a kiss. You think about doing it. He might let you, his straight lashes pointed with his gaze, his eyes a heavy weight where they trace your features unhurried. 

"How come you didn't text me back earlier?" he asks. 

"Oh, I didn't know you were expecting me to. I'm sorry, handsome, I was kind of grody–"

"Grody? I doubt that–" 

"–I figured I'd wash up before you got back." 

"So you were busy?" he asks, returning to the chopping board at the left of the stove. He picks up a glinting-sharp knife. "Not something else?" 

"No, why? Was I supposed to do something today?" 

Miguel begins slicing into a tomato, red skin splitting to reveal greener insides. "No. No, just wondering." 

You lean back against the wall, crossing a leg over your thigh. He's being kind of off. Your first impulse is to try and kiss it better but that directly fights your new theory. Being nice physically is far from your only weapon. 

"Did you have a good day?" you ask, and here's where you'd pull him close or sidle up behind him and twist his hair around your finger. "I was thinking about you a lot. Did the strike mission go okay?" 

"Fine. You didn't come see me, but it was fine." 

You eye him from the corner of your vision. He's still cutting up tomatoes, a pan of olive oil and minced garlic simmering between you. 

"I sent you all those photos," you say. 

One of the Peter's you hang around with got his arm stuck in a window after he said, "Is that a bad idea, do you think? I really wanna try," and Hobie said, "They can't stop you." 

The 'they' being unknown, Hobie was right. No one could stop Peter once he started climbing, but the window could certainly stop him from getting down. You'd sent Miguel pictures of his dangling body up in the atrium like a dark splodge, as well as a blurry photo of your face when you'd accidentally turned the camera. He responded to that one with a heart but the rest he didn't touch. 

"They got him down eventually," you continue, "but I had to stay for moral support! And to feed him popcorn so he didn't starve. Was it peaceful without me?"

"You know I like when you visit me, right?" he asks carefully. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah?" he mimics, waving his hand at you. "Can't deal with you. Get the cream from the fridge." 

You eat dinner as you and Miguel tend to do —you talk your way through it happily, smiling and joking, and he puts extra helpings on your plate when you aren't looking. 

The alien quality of what you're doing rears its head briefly. He's trying to stop the quasi apocalypse. You're willing to help, though you'd been more interested in Miguel and getting to know his enigma than your responsibilities. Weird how love makes you want to be better. 

"What was your course like?" Miguel asks, when the dishes have been set aside for washing and you've showered for the night. 

He's talkative tonight. 

"They taught us how to wield a baton," you say, climbing into his bed with a tired sigh. "One girl was crazy about it. She kind of looked like me…" You yawn, looking for his waist as he settles in the sheets and pillows next to you. "You're lucky I got my claws into you when I did. At least I'm not murderous. Much." 

Miguel covers your hand on his ribs. He squeezes your fingers together gently like he's collecting them under his palm for borrowing. 

"You didn't get your claws in me. I'm not easily led." 

"Course not," you snort. You actually agree with him, but he said it too seriously for bedtime. 

Miguel abandons your hand to pull you in, encouraging your head and upper chest onto his, hand coasting up and down the length of your arm lovingly. Firmly, like a massage, but adoring nonetheless. You languish in his touches and rub your lips, still tingling from spearmint, against the collar of his shirt gently. As indirect a kiss as you can manage, practically sick with longing after a day unkissed. 

"Are you mad at me?" he asks into the quiet.

You pause, fingers with a mind of their own as you take a long strand of hair that curls under his ear between them, combing it flat. "Why, have you done something?" you ask, hiding your confusion with a delighted lilt. 

"I've been trying to work that out." Frustration seeps into his voice, roughened syllables drawn tight, "But you're evasive." 

"I'm evasive," you say softly, tilting your head back to meet his eye. "Miguel, why do you think I'm mad at you? I'm not mad." 

Miguel glares at you. Brows furrowed, an especially formidable downturn to an otherwise pretty mouth, he looks as though he wants to start a fight with you, and as though he doesn't believe it. 

"I'm not mad," you insist, sitting up a little. 

"Then…" 

You scrunch your brows at him. "You've been thinking I was mad at you all day? Why didn't you say something, handsome?" 

He might roll his eyes at your pet name if he weren't knee deep in relief. You didn't know being mad at him was something he'd be sad with, and yet there he is lying beneath you, blowing a big enough exhale to ruffle the hair from his forehead. 

Miguel takes your face into one hand. Your eyelashes flutter against his palm like a shuddering butterfly wing as you lean into his touch, more than happy to offer him whatever relief it is he needs while enjoying in the feeling of being close to him. 

"You haven't kissed me all day," he says quietly. "I thought I must've pissed you off, 'cos you're more piranha than girl sometimes, but you weren't acting any weirder than usual beyond that." 

You roll your eyes and hide your face in his hand. He's kidding around, and his thumb rubs over your skin tenderly to prove it. 

"You're not mad?" he asks again. 

You kiss his palm. You kiss his wrist, happy when he knows the moves like a well practised dance, his fingers sliding behind your ear to steady you as you dip down for a kiss. 

It's a good kiss. Warm mouths vying for one another but trying not to seem desperate, Miguel's hand behind your ear growing harsher as you pull a breath against his lips. You press your hand into his pec too hard. 

"Sorry," you murmur, stealing another fast kiss and pulling away. 

You barely feel how uncomfortably you're skewed, you're that happy. 

"Is there a reason you wouldn't kiss me?" he asks. 

"I'm, like, always the first one to initiate and I kinda got it in my head maybe you didn't want me kissing you that much…" You grin at him. "The whole time you're playing twenty questions with me wishing I'd lay one on you. You know you have a voice for more than yelling at people, right?" 

Miguel gets this look in his eyes then, rolling his jaw a touch at the supposed audacity of what you've said. The tip of his tongue works at his canine tooth, his eyebrows rising as he asks, "Oh, is that how you're talking to me tonight?" 

"How else should I talk to you, Miguel?" 

He doesn't bother with swiftness nor a show of strength as he rolls you onto your back. He settles above you with measured movements, a pleased smirk playing on his lips now. His eyes are dark, pupils wide as dimes.

"With compassion, mi cielo," he says.

"Have some sympathy for me," you implore him, wrapping your arms around his waist. It diffuses the tension, though neither party minds, evidenced by Miguel's easy relaxation and your ecstatic mood. Happiness bubbles up like carbonated bubbles, your chest awake with a fizzing excitement. "You really thought I was mad 'cos I wasn't kissing you?" 

He avoids the question. "You think you're the only one who initiates?" he asks genuinely. 

"Why didn't you kiss me, then? When you came home?" 

"Your face was wet." 

"And after when we were eating dinner?" 

Miguel smiles at you. No sarcasm, no stress. He leans down to kiss you chastely, pulling away to say, "I thought you were definitely mad at that point." 

"A kiss would've made me feel better." 

You realise how quiet your bubble of the world really is for that handful of seconds, Miguel holding himself above you, your hands loose behind the broad stretch of his back. 

"You know you can just ask me, yeah? You don't have to worry and wonder how I'm feeling. I'll tell you how I'm feeling if you want to know." 

"Cariño, I always want to know," he says. 

You breathe out slowly. Miguel takes your face into his hand for another kiss, or so you think —he pinches your cheek. 

"And I always want to kiss you," he says quickly, climbing off of you. 

"Where are you going?" 

"I need a drink." 

A break from sincerity. You don't mind that he needs to walk it off as long as he comes back. You stretch out on your back and cover your face with your hands. 

"People think I'm the weird one," you say into them.

A hand clamps around your ankle and tugs you down. You shriek with startled laughter and climb away from him as he lands on top of you, a cold water bottle held to your bare neck. 

"No!" you laugh. 

Miguel laughs in tandem and presses it further down. 

"I really am going to be mad at you if you don't quit!" You yelp as condensation wets your collar. "Miguel!"

"You're a wimp," he says with a bright smile. 

You push him with some enhanced super strength and manage to get the water bottle off of your neck, but Miguel makes up for any differences in strength with enthusiasm and muscle alike, shoving you down. 

You're laughing and pleading at the same time, "Please, Miguel, stop, it's sooooo cold." 

Miguel laughs, dropping the bottle somewhere above your head, covering the cooled stripe of your skin with his big hand. The sound is warming enough, but you let him sweat for a second, content to be doted on. 

He gives you a once over. "I'll kiss you first more," he promises. 

"Starting now, please, handsome. Mi cielo." 

Miguel groans and digs his arms under your back. You don't fight it as he drags you back to the top of the bed. In fact, you quite enjoy it. You lay back to receive his sorry pecks and his all encompassing hug, forgetting what you'd been worried about one damp crescent moon of a kiss at a time.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!

#miguel and spidergirl reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfic #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel o’hara scenario #miguel o’hara blurb #miguel o’hara oneshot #spider-man: across the spider-verse #spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers #spider-man: across the spider-verse fanfiction #across the spider-verse spoilers #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse spoilers #spiderman across the spider-verse spoilers #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara fanfic #miguel ohara fic #miguel ohara drabble #miguel ohara scenario

[eilidh-eternal]

Captain Price smut? Yeahhhh, Captain Price smut.

Real estate agent reader who’s showing John Price flats in London, but the only thing he cares about are all the surfaces he can fuck you on.

18+ MDNI | f!reader | d/s dynamics | praise kink | oral f-receiving | unprotected P i V | creampie |

“This unit is just under 100 square meters, but it has the open floor plan you requested, and the kitchen has recently been remodeled; all new cabinetry, appliances and gorgeous Calcutta marble countertops. It’s an entertainers dream.”

John won’t be doing much entertaining but he thinks you’re an exquisite show spread out on those countertops you love so much, skirt hiked up around your hips and lacy thong between his teeth as he nips and teases the sensitive juncture of your hip and thigh. The scrape of his beard against your thighs only causes you to spread them wider for him, already burning, and before you can protest—complain that you’d just bought those—he’s tearing the flimsy lace from your body and growling at the sight of your glistening cunt.

“Christ sweetheart, just look at ya. Been drippin’ since we walked through the door.”

The first card of his tongue through your folds is long and languid, and the way he moans at the first taste of you is something purely primal, born of raw desire and burning need. Hands made rough by years of hard work snake beneath your thighs, seeking purchase at your hips to knead at their plush and soft skin. He pins them to the counter when he dips into your entrance and you clench around him, a moan of his own echoing yours, vibrating against the throbbing bundle of nerves pressed against his nose.

You clap a hand over your mouth to muffle what would have been a scream when he takes your puffy clit between his teeth, flicks the tip of his tongue over it until your thighs are quivering against him. You could scream when he pulls away from you, leaves you dangling from that razor thin edge to pull himself up, to brace his arms on either side of your head and pull your hand away from your face.

“No more of that, doll. Need t’ hear ya. Gotta know how thin these walls are. Don’t want any neighbors reporting us for violating the noise ordinance.” With his orders given he returns to his position between your thighs, not wasting a moment as he hooks his arms under you and drags you to the very edge of the counter to throw your legs over his shoulders and continue with his meal.

You grip the edge of the counter with such force you worry it might crack, that it might crumble in your hands just as you are in his. Every searing pass of his tongue, nip of his teeth and bristle of his beard coaxes you back towards that ledge, and every moan and gasp you give him is rewarded with a growl that reverberates from his chest and straight to your clit, sending hot sparks of pleasure licking on your arching spine.

Watching you unravel before him is John’s second favorite part of the tour, tasting your spilled essence as you writhe and clamp your thighs around his head when you cum on his tongue. Second only to the way you feel wrapped around him, the way your brows slope upwards and your mouth makes that perfect little ‘o’ when he sheathes himself to the hilt inside you.

“F-fuck, ‘s too much… I can’t-”

“You can,” he grunts with a pointed thrust, and you whine at the fullness, the stretch of his thick cock and the press of the flared tip against your cervix. “You can take it, honey. Just keep those pretty eyes on me yeah?” You focus on his face, concentrate on the lines between his brows. “Good girl.”

He sets a steady pace, one hand pressing your knee up beside your face and with the other he braces himself on the counter, bent over you to watch your eyes flutter with every drag of his cock in and out of you.

“Fuck sweetheart… ya feel fuckin’ perfect. ‘S like you were made for my cock.” It’s too much, too intense staring up into the swirling depths of ocean blue eyes when he says things like that, and you look away before you drown in them and all of his pretty words.

But John is like a rip tide; calm and collected on the surface, but swift and brutal below. He halts his movements abruptly, grips your face, thumb and forefinger pressing into your cheeks, and forces your gaze back to his. “Did I say you could look away?” A beat of silence and he cocks an impatient brow.

“No…” you squeak.

“What were my instructions?”

“Eyes on you.” It’s less whiny but it still comes out small and breathy.

“That’s right, eyes on me. Gotta be able to see ya so I can take care of ya. Gotta know it feels good, that I’m not hurtin’ ya. Understand?” You nod weakly, but his brows remain furrowed, mouth set in a hard line, and he doesn’t move.

“Y-yes sir.”

“Good girl,” he hums in approval and removes his hand from your face, drags it down the length of your body as his hips begin to roll forward again, following the valley of your breasts down to your navel, your messily bunched up skirt, and presses his thumb to your clit, tracing slow circles around it. It doesn’t take long for him to find his rhythm again, faster this time, each stroke pushing him further and further towards that simmering pool of pleasure as your silken walls begin to flutter around him.

You can feel your own orgasm building, the velvety head of his cock brushing against pleasure centers deep inside of you and his thumb working your clit to fan the flames of your lust and desire into a blazing inferno. Hot tendrils of pleasure lick up your spine, arching you into him and rocking your hips against his as you mewl and whine, desperate for your release and to ease the growing heat within your veins.

“Close… fuck, I’m close-” you can barely manage, and he shushes you sweetly.

“I know sweetheart, can feel ya- fuck… clenching around me,” he says between panting breaths. “Wanna feel ya… milkin’ me. Be a good girl… and cum for me.”

He’s relentless in his mission to see you, to feel you, cumming on his cock, hips slamming into yours at a brutal pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin mingling with each of your breathy moans in the sweetest symphony he’s ever heard. And it’s hard, so, so hard to keep your eyes open, to keep them trained on him when he’s fucking you like a man utterly consumed by the desire to see you shatter beneath him.

You don’t hold back, don’t bother trying to quiet the scream that rips from your throat when he sends you careening over that edge, falling, falling, falling into a warm, blissful oblivion. Every muscle in your abdomen pulls taught, pussy clamping down on him as your orgasm tears through you like a wildfire through a parched forest, and he chases his own release with the same rabid intensity, grunting and panting above you with wild thrusts of his hips. A raging storm of intensity that finally breaks when his balls tighten and he spills inside of you, hips stuttering with a guttural moan that rumbles like thunder in his chest.

You stay like that for a long moment, your arms limp beside you, legs quivering against cool marble with his face tucked into the side of your neck and breathing raggedly. When he finally withdraws you whimper at the loss of him, the absence of his warmth and the fullness he gave now leaves you empty and leaking your combined essence, dripping down your thighs onto the obscenely expensive counter. You open your mouth to say something, try to move back to your feet before you make a further mess, but he silences you with his tongue, lapping at your entrance to taste both of you, and the only sound that comes out is an overstimulated whine.

“I know, I know…” he murmurs into your dripping cunt. “But we’ve gotta get ya cleaned up.”

You. Not the counters—you.

When he finally deems you ‘clean’ enough, he helps you down from the counter, makes sure you’re steady on your feet before you even try putting those ridiculous heels back on. And when you leave he tucks the ruined lace of your underwear into his pocket and guides you out of the flat with a firm hand on the small of your back, all the way to your car, and insists on opening the door for you.

Before you can seat yourself he tightens his hold on you and drops down to place a kiss on your cheek, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers, “I’ll see you next week for that showing, sweetheart. Be good for me until then.”

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

#john price x reader #john price #cod smut #john price smut #captain price x reader #captain price smut #captain john price x reader #captain john price #captain price #captain price x you #john price x you #cod #captain john price x you #cod mw #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #cod mwii #cod mwiii #cod x reader #cod fanfic #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #call of duty smut #smut #cod modern warfare #cod 141 #cod imagine #cod x you #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty mwii

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Cover Up

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: implied smut

Summary: You hooked up with someone expecting to keep him as a one-and-done. You didn't expect him to show up at your college.

Square Filled: "You are one fine specimen, and I'm not saying that because I'm drunk.” for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Shit. Shit. Shit. You’re so late. You can’t be late for your first day of college. You had a bit too much to drink last night which caused you to sleep in longer than you wanted to. You’re so late that you didn’t have time to do your makeup. Eh, you can do it when you get to school. The drive is only thirty minutes but with morning traffic, it takes forty-five.

Meet me in the bathroom by the cafeteria! Emergency! You send to your best friend.

You rush from your car all the way to the bathroom before anyone else has a chance to see how messed up you look. You have everything you need in your backpack to fix your look, and you almost cringe at yourself when you look in the mirror.

“Man, I need to stop drinking,” you shake your head.

You take out your brush and comb your hair when Madison walks in.

“Y/N?”

“Over here.”

“Are you okay? What happened?”

“I woke up late. I didn’t have time to do my makeup. I need to use yours.”

“You texted me this is an emergency. I blew off Jason just to come here.”

“Mads, this is an emergency. Look at me. I can’t go to class looking like this. I still have pimples on my face. Can I use your makeup or not?”

“Of course.” She sets her backpack on the counter and takes out the massive bag containing everything she needs for a full face of makeup. It’s a damn good thing you’re the exact shade as her. “Why’d you wake up late?”

“I was out late last night.”

“And?”

“Why does there have to be an and?”

“Bitch, I know you.”

“I had too much to drink,” you sigh.

“There it is,” she laughs. “Who’d you do?”

“Why does there have to be a guy?” you chuckle and look at her. She raises an eyebrow as if you could actually fool her. “Okay, I don’t know his name. I was too busy making out with him to ask.”

“Do tell,” she smirks. You grab an elastic and put your hair up to have it out of the way while you do your makeup. She gasps when she sees the dark purple marks on your neck. “What the fuck are those?”

“So, they’re noticeable?”

“Noticeable? It looks like he was trying to suck your blood. God damn.”

“Mads, when I tell you this man was so fine, I mean it. I thought he was shy and awkward because he had that look about him, but he was the complete opposite. He took me to the back where the bathrooms were and had his way with me. God, he was so big,” you gasp.

“Tell me you got his number.”

“His friends came and got him before we could say anything. I don’t even know his name. I had to go home and put my vibrator to good use even after the orgasms he gave me.”

“Okay, new mission in life, find that man. It’s been a while since you let someone ruffle your feathers.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle.

You grab what you need and cover your marks as much as you can. They’re so dark that the foundation can’t cover it completely, but with your hair down, it’s manageable. Once you feel like you can walk out in public, you hand everything back to her.

“Okay, we’re good to go. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” she winks.

You take one look at yourself and remember what it was like to have his hands on your body.

You’ve never done this with a stranger before. Sure, you’ve had public sex before but nothing like this. None of your flings had this much passion. You’ve only met this man not even an hour ago and his tongue is down your throat.

There is a family bathroom next to the men’s and women’s restrooms, so he shoves you into that one and locks the door behind him. He grabs your hips and lifts you so that you can wrap your legs around his slender waist. He shoves his hand between your legs as his lips trail down your neck.

“You are one fine specimen, and I'm not saying that because I'm drunk,” you moan.

All you can focus on is the way his fingers are rubbing on your clothed clit and how his lips are sucking on your neck.

“Y/N!” You snap out of your trance and look at her. “We’re going to be late. Come on.”

“Right.”

You two leave the bathroom and head in the direction of your first class, Criminal Justice 101.

“Tell me what he looks like. It’ll help me try to find him.”

“Curly brown hair, brown eyes, very tall, slim build, and he was wearing a sweater vest. Not what you’d think he’d be like. He knew what he was doing, that’s for sure,” you chuckle. “I don’t know anything about him.”

“You just know what his tongue and cock feels like.”

“Madison!” You look away once and run into someone who is reading a book. “Watch where you’re going.”

“That is no way to speak to a professor, young lady.”

You look back and see the Dean of the school escorting one of the new professors. You lock eyes with the new professor with wide eyes. He’s the man you fucked last night. He recognizes you but doesn’t say anything about it. Madison can guess what happened based on how you’re looking at him.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“No, it was my fault,” he chuckles.

“Come, Dr. Reid. I’ll show you to Criminal Justice 101.”

“Wait, you’re teaching that class?” you ask, stopping the two men from leaving.

“Yeah.”

Madison grabs your shoulders and grins at Dr. Reid.

“Lucky for us, we’re your students.”

“Can’t wait,” he chuckles.

The Dean leaves expecting Dr. Reid to follow but the young doctor leans closer to you so you’re the only one who hears him.

“It’s a shame you covered them up. I’ll just have to make more.”

Your mouth drops open as he jogs to catch up with the Dean. You’re totally fucked. It’ll make class more interesting though.

x

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[escapenightmare]

soft n pouty bf nagi <3

"you forgot something," nagi mumbles from behind you.

"what?" you ask him as he wraps his arms around your waist from the back, resting his chin on your shoulder. he had stopped you at the door a second before you were about to leave, telling you that you had forgotten something. "what is it?"

he holds out a book in front of your face, "book."

"oh shit," you quickly stuff it in your bag, escaping from his lingering touch. "thanks sei."

"you forgot something else too."

his drowsy voice makes you stop again and let go of the doorknob, groaning. "what now?"

"kiss."

"bro." you deadpan, turning around to face him and his little unconscious pout. you quickly press your lips to his, "okay?"

"that wasn't meaningful," he narrows his eyes at you, looking sleepy even though he'd been awake for an hour already. his hair was all messed up, more than it usually was, sticking out in all ends and looking all soft and fluffy, just like him.

"sei," you groan again and kiss him once more, making it last longer than the previous one. "happy?"

"no," he lightly huffs, his hand reaching out and grabbing yours with a more defined pout.

you narrow your eyes at him the way he did at you earlier. "why?"

"’don't want you to leave," he said softly, pulling you to him with your hand and wrapping his arms around you once again.

"but i have to go, sei," you tell him, lifting your hand to stroke his hair.

"why?" you could literally picture him stomping his feet like a child. "return the book tomorrow?" he suggests.

"the due date's today," your hand is still stroking his hair and he leans into your touch, face relaxing and eyes closing.

when he speaks again it's almost in a whisper, "just for a little while?"

you think about it. if you stayed for even just five more minutes, you'd be smothered with affection and attention, pulled onto the couch for cuddles, probably get so caught up in the moment that you'd forget you had to leave in the first place.

or, you could leave right now and come home to a poutier and more affection-seeking, drunk on not having your love seishiro.

"...?" even his silence looks like he's asking you a question.

"what?" you reluctantly ask.

"don't go," he says, voice drowsy and as soft as could be. "just for a little. ’swear." a pause before he adds, "please."

your heart almost shatters at how broken he sounded, and you let him know your answer by wrapping your arms around him in a hug. "okay. but only for a little."

he eagerly nods, tugging you to the couch and sitting down before pulling you on top of him, hugging you close to his chest. you could hear his steady heartbeat as he looked down at you with nothing but pure love in his eyes.

"so," you start, maintaining eye contact. "what's wrong?"

his long legs tangle with yours and he seems to hesitate before he answers, voice as gentle as it was before. "just missed you."

"hm?" you brush a few locks of his hair away from his forehead and look down at him. "we were together the whole day yesterday."

"i know," he replies, hand on your back and thumb tracing random shapes that you could feel through your shirt.

a circle.. a six... an eight.. a square...

nagi lets out a soft and content exhale. "i like it when it's like this." his eyes sparkle a little and his lips curl up in a small smile. "when it's just the two of us."

you snuggle closer to him, letting him lean his forehead on your shoulder as he hugged you tighter. "me too, sei."

unsurprisingly, you fall asleep, wrapped up in nagi's arms and warm and comfortable hoodie.

only for a little while my ass, you thought when you woke up again.

he's setting a mug containing your favorite drink down on the coffee table in front of you.

your eyes immediately wander to the window and you sigh, it was dark outside.

the library was closed now.

"here," your boyfriend hands you a book, sitting down next to you and cuddling up to you.

your eyebrows furrow, it was a book in your reading list.

"i went and returned the book for you," nagi says. "and got that."

you brighten up with a grin, "thanks, sei." your hand moves up to pat his head a few times and he pouted when you put your hand down.

there's no words exchanged as he curls up to you, and you wonder how someone could be as cute as he was in this moment; hair messed up more than ever, eyes sleepy and half closed again, drowning in an oversized hoodie and lips forming a tiny 'o' shape because of.... well, you had no idea.

you bring your free hand up to his cheek and smile. his hand comes up to hold yours as he nuzzles into your palm, eyes affectionate and loving, pout no longer visible on his face.

"i love you," he mumbles, leaning down and slowly kissing the corner of your lips. "a lot."

you gently smile, "i love you too."

nagi pokes the book in your hand, "read to me?"

"always."

#ー branded by ash. #first time writing for bllk pls forgive me 💀 #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #nagi x reader #bllk x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro x you #nagi fluff #nagi seishiro fanfiction #seishiro x reader #nagi x you #nagi drabble #blue lock nagi x reader #blue lock drabble #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #nagi seishiro

[f1byjessie]

SUGAR, SPICE, AND EVERYTHING NICE ━━ FA14.

being the wife to a formula one driver is hard, especially when they're far away.

( fernando alonso x wife!reader )

━━ one shot.

When you were ten, you baked with your grandmother for the first time and fell in love. With the flour up to your elbows, an apron two sizes too big looped twice around your waist, and your grandmother's sweet voice crooning along to Sergio Endrigo, she taught you the differences between a teaspoon and a tablespoon, that a pinch sometimes means two, and when it comes to cinnamon you can never have too much.

“My angioletto,” she called you, her little angel, “it doesn’t have to look pretty when it’s done. When I was younger, I made my husband, your nonno, the ugliest cookies you could imagine. But I put my love in it, and he loved me very much, and he ate every single one and for the rest of his years claimed they were the best cookies I ever made for him.”

She’d lifted you onto the stool at the counter, so you could peer down at the mangled mess of cinnamon rolls. “It may look odd on the outside, but it is just as delicious as the others, and you know what? It’s even more special because it was made by my granddaughter.”

She’d wrapped you up in her arms then, pressing a kiss to your forehead and laughing loudly and warmly when you tried to squirm out of her arms with a giggle of your own.

“One day, my angioletto, you will find someone who loves you with their entire heart, and it won’t matter how pretty your baking is, because they will eat it, and to them it will taste like heaven.” She’d pulled apart the cinnamon roll, looked you in the eye, and smiled— “Until that someone gets here, I will stand in.”

You ate the whole pan together, and neither of you cared that it ruined your appetite for supper or gave you a stomach ache a little while later.

She’d driven you home that night after the sun had set, and when you got to the little shop on the corner of the market square, a little storefront overgrown with ivy, she’d slowed to a cruise and pointed out where the old sign used to be— where there was just an off-color splotch where the walls around it had been bleached by the sun.

She had regaled you with another story of her time as a girl in the kitchen baking bread with the owner, as she did every morning before school in exchange for a few dollars a month, and then she told you, as she always did, that one day she’d buy it for herself and turn it back into the best bakery Italy had ever seen.

When you were twenty— a law school dropout, struggling to find your place in a world that didn’t seem to have any room for you— you bought the small shop on the corner of the market square, turned it into a bakery, and named it after your grandmother.

It was all on a whim, a result of what you're pretty sure was some quarter-life crisis brought on by feeling as lost as you were. Still, you were living out the lingering ghost of a pipe dream from your teenage years that your father's harsh words and mother's disapproval had shattered to pieces, and following in the footsteps of the woman who inspired your passion for creation.

You’re nearly thirty now, and you still don’t regret buying the bakery. It’s your home away from home now— your home when your heart is halfway around the world and waking up as you go to bed. You love what you do, and you feel grateful that you’ve lucked out in being able to spend your days doing something that makes you so genuinely happy.

But that doesn’t mean that every day is easy.

Today is one of those hard days. Valentine’s Day is just a week away which means orders are coming in like crazy, and on top of the hecticness it’s also the thirteenth anniversary of your grandmother’s passing. Even though you’ve made it these thirteen years without her, the reminder of her legacy— her dream, which you now live for her— is no easier to deal with now than it was all those years ago when you’d just lost her.

The smell of fresh bread from the kitchen and the deep lull of Sergio Endrigo over the bakery’s speakers do nothing but remind you of her and the afternoons you spent in her kitchen, kneading dough and icing cookies. You feel like a little girl again, laughing over old stories of your mother and flushing bright red when she’d bump her hip against yours and ask if there were any boys at school that had caught your eye.

You’d give anything to hear her talk about her days at the bakery one more time, have her guide you through another recipe, or listen to her sing along to old Italian classics.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Beatrice asks. She’s a young American woman you met a few years back when she was studying abroad. She hadn’t known much Italian back then, and you were the first person she’d met who could speak English, so she’d asked you for directions to the nearest bus station and you had walked her there to make sure she wouldn’t get lost, which had led to you both talking, trading contact information, and eventually you offering her a job at the bakery when she announced to you months later after continued talking that she’d be staying for the foreseeable future.

You wipe your hands against your apron and offer her a smile. It doesn’t come as easily as it normally does, and you feel like it shows. “Just being a bit nostalgic today,” you admit, turning your gaze to the picture of your grandmother that hangs on the wall across from the display case.

There are other pictures hung up with her— you in front of the bakery on the day you bought it, the bakery back when your grandmother still worked there nearly sixty years ago, you and your husband the day you got married, and Beatrice with her three dogs to list a few, all things and places and people you love and want to remember.

“My grandmother, who I named this place after, have I ever told you about her?”

Beatrice hums, thinking back to the many conversations you have both shared you imagine. As she does so, she reaches for a cloth to start wiping down the front of the display case. “I don’t think so,” she finally answers, rounding the counter to the glass front. “I knew the bakery was named after her, and that she taught you to bake, but not much else. You don’t really talk about her much.”

You frown, “I guess I don’t.”

“But it’s okay,” Beatrice adds quickly. “I know family can be a touchy topic. If you’d rather not talk about her, I understand. I’m not very fond of talking about my brother, to be honest.”

The only time Beatrice does talk about her brother is when she’s drunk, which she usually tends to be when the two of you sit down over a bottle of wine and gossip about the happenings of your lives. You’ve heard plenty of stories about him, and thinking back to the most recent one in particular startles a laugh out of you.

Beatrice seems relieved when you glance back over to her with a soft smile.

“My grandmother was the greatest woman I ever knew,” you start. “Do you mind if I talk about her?”

Your employee— your friend— smiles gently at you and continues polishing away the smudges on the display case. “I would love it if you talked about her.

“She used to call me her little angel…”

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yourusername i’ll leave a piece just for you, nonna.

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user that looks delicious!!

user it’s actually my dream to visit y/n’s bakery 😍

↳ user no cuz literally same, idk anyone else who makes smth as simple as bread look so amazing

↳ user it’s like how irl some foods don’t look that good but somehow in cartoons they make it look like it’s the most appetizing thing in the entire world i would actually cut off my own arm and leg just to get to try a single bite

user così carino!! ❤️❤️

user how is it possible to make food look heavenly 😳

user every time she posts food it makes me want to marry a husband that can bake bc there’s no way i could ever do this myself but i do in fact want to live a life like this so very badly

↳ user FELT THIS OMG

user what a beautiful way to remember someone 🫶

user she’s gorgeous aND SHE CAN BAKE???

↳ user she’s really the most wag of all wags 😩

↳ user fell down a rabbit hole of wag interactions throughout the years and y/n’s introduction into the group is so iconic bc she baked them all cookies and brought them when she first met them all

↳ user i read that in an interview that she knows all their favourites and tries to make them all throughout the season when she goes to races

↳ user she’s actually such a sweetheart irl too, i visited the bakery before i ever knew who she was or what f1 is and if i hadn’t already seen that ring on her finger i would’ve shot my shot no joke 😔😔

↳ user what’s alonso’s secret??? where can i find me a wifey like that???

user this is gorgeous

user using food to celebrate a loved one is one of the most loving things a person can do in my opinion. so much love goes into food, but especially baked goods which take time and patience and practice. this is a really touching and beautiful way to honor someone, and i hope she’s watching down on you and thinking the same thing ❤️

↳ user didn’t think i was gonna be crying today but here we are ig 😭

fernandoalo_oficial mi vida, she would be so proud of you 💛

↳ yourusername i hope so, i am who i am because of her 💛

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yourusername arrivederci 💛

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fernandoalo_oficial and may it be soon, mi vida 💛

user obsessed with the way fernando is obsessed with his wife

↳ user the fact that he calls her mi vida every time he addresses her has me walking into oncoming traffic 🙃

↳ user “my life” in spanish 😭😭 i literally fucking can’t when is it my turn to get a man that loves and cherishes me like this

↳ user honestly i think it’s just time to accept we’ll be alone forever cuz if he don’t treat me the way fernando treats his wife then i don’t want him

user for the ppl asking, arrivederci means until we meet again in italian, it’s a pretty common way to say goodbye in italy

↳ user AND FERNANDO SAID AND MAY IT BE SOON OH I AM ILL

user when will he return from the war…

↳ user it’s only february the season hasn’t even started yet so why isn’t he with her??

↳ user aston martin’s hq is in the uk and fernando has to be there for the car reveal, testing/sims, training, promo content, etc. it’s the logistical pr side of formula 1 that makes the season start a lot earlier than what ppl might think

↳ user AND OVER VALENTINE’S DAY TOO??? 😭😭😭😭

user mama y papa

user i want to grow old with someone and have pictures of our vacations to look back on and remember and i don’t think that’s too much to ask for

user she’s posting like he’s dead or smth 💀

↳ user i mean i would be too if my husband was missing valentines day bc of work tbf 🤷‍♀️

user i can’t believe fernando alonso bagged a baddie who ain’t even 30 yet

↳ user i can have you SEEN fernando alonso?? 👀👀👀

↳ user have you SEEN y/n?? 👀👀👀

↳ user two baddies bagged each other guys there’s not a lot to try and comprehend

Fernando being gone has never really mattered to you much. You miss him, of course. He’s your husband and ideally, you would be able to travel the world with him on a whim without needing to worry about who’s in charge of the bakery, but despite how perfect your life seems with Fernando by your side, there are a lot of things that don’t go according to plan and Fernando’s hectic work schedule is one of them.

The constant traveling across the season is exhausting for both of you, even though you’re not the one doing the majority of it. You attend his races when you can— usually when Beatrice forces you to, which is more and more recently as of late, with the logic that you should get the chance to see the world while you’re still young and while Fernando is still racing— but even when you’re home in Naples, the worry that you feel for Fernando as he flies around the world and races in a dangerous car takes its toll.

You wouldn’t even think of ever asking him to give it up, but not being by his side is hard and you cannot afford— for the sake of the bakery— to follow him wherever his sport takes him. So for now, you will always worry and stress about the toll it all takes on him as well.

You honestly hadn’t given much thought that he’d be missing Valentine’s Day this year, but it occurs to you now as you scroll through the comments on your post.

It’s by far the first time he’ll be gone for the holiday, but something about this year just feels different. Maybe it’s the stress of the extra workload you’ve taken on at the bakery to make up for the extra orders this year and the employees that have had to call out, or maybe the anniversary of your grandmother’s passing is hitting you harder this time than it has in the past, but whatever it is, the idea of Fernando not being here to celebrate with you has your eyes filling with tears as you sit curled up in bed.

Alone.

As you have been for the last few weeks now.

Fernando is in Silverstone, preparing for the launch of the new car and getting back into the swing of things before the new season starts, and this is part of the job you understand. You’ve been his wife for many years now. The racing may start in March, but the real season begins much sooner, and to a certain degree it never truly ends.

There’s always a push to be staying in shape, eating healthy, and staying up to date with all the up-and-coming news. Fernando has worked hard to try and find the middle ground, to enjoy his break while he has it, and take a step back from the Formula One world if only to de-stress from the sport’s particular brand of pressure.

And you’ve worked hard to accept that he will always be thinking like a race car driver.

Nonetheless, though you have enjoyed the interview clips and photographs of him being posted around on social media, and you love even more the pictures your husband’s teammate has been sending you and you alone, you can’t help but want to be selfish. You want to have him with you, in your home, cuddled up beside you instead of 1700 kilometers away in another country.

But that’s the way of things.

You’re about to turn off the lamp and, maybe, cry yourself to sleep while ignoring the very cold and very empty other half of a bed that’s too big for one— a bed you haven’t slept in the middle of since before you ever met Fernando, too used to occupying one side and finding another body on the other— when your phone lights up with an incoming call and his contact image flashes across your screen.

It’s late in Italy, nearing midnight now, and the UK isn’t too far behind. With the strictness of his daily schedule and the importance of a full night of rest, he should already be in bed by now. He should’ve already been in bed hours ago, if you remember correctly from past seasons.

“Fernando?”

“My love,” he greets, soft and sweet and sounding like just hearing you say his name has left him breathless. You can practically hear the smile in his voice. “I am sorry that it’s so late. I hope I did not wake you up, but I am calling because I simply could not bear to fall asleep without hearing you.”

You sniffle, wiping away at the tears in your eyes, but the quiet noise must’ve been enough for him to hear because he makes an inquisitive sound.

“Mi vida,” he calls to you, concern seeping into his words. “What is wrong? Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum back to him, shifting around in bed to face the window and the scenic view that lies beyond. You can see the ocean from your home— the dark water pulling in and pushing out and glittering with the reflected light of the moon, and the boats docked at the marina, still, silent, asleep. The moon’s glow paints the cityscape in an ethereal haze, like something from a fairytale. “I’m okay. Just a bad few days. I miss you, Fernando.”

“I know, my love,” he coos. “But we will be together soon. Do you remember what I told you when I left?”

As if you could possibly forget. The morning he left, a fog had rolled in from the sea and you’d swathed yourself in a shawl to chase away the early, damp chill as you stood on the stoep to see him off.

Fernando had wrapped you up in his arms, an embrace so warm and safe that the feeling had lingered for hours afterward still, and he’d whispered in your ear that he would move mountain and sea to get back to you if you ever needed him.

“But I always need you,” you’d teased. He’d chuckled and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, a promise, and then pulled you in even closer, tucking your head beneath his chin and letting his fingers run through your hair and comb through the remaining bedhead tangles.

You would similarly move earth and sky to be with him again now, just to feel his arms around you, or in the bed beside you.

“I meant what I said,” he says over the phone, drawing your attention back.

You hum again, “I know. But sweetheart, you have a job to do. It’s a very important job, too.” You curl the blankets around you tighter. “Pay no mind to my musings, okay? It’s just been a rocky start. The bakery has lots of orders to get through for Valentine’s Day, and I am short-staffed now.”

“What has happened?”

“What hasn’t?” You joke, heaving a sigh. “Rodrigo broke his hand in a biking accident this past Sunday, and the doctor says he’ll be out for a month at least. I can have him work the register and do minor cleaning chores, but we really need him in the kitchen because Andrea hasn’t yet been trained to use the equipment. I am trying to have Beatrice help with that, but it will take time we don’t have. On top of that, Samuel’s wife is having her baby so he has taken paternity leave, and Gemma has gone back to France for her mother’s birthday.”

Fernando makes a noise of understanding. “You are so stressed, mi vida. I wish there was more I could do. I am sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You have no reason to. In fact, I should be thanking you because I’m feeling so much better just hearing your voice,” you answer. Feeling the tears dissipate as your husband’s joyous laughter trickles into your ear from the phone’s speaker.

“And I am better just hearing yours,” he says. “But I will leave you to sleep now. It’s too late for you to be awake. Te amo, mi esposa.”

“Ti amo, marito mio.”

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lance_stroll i’m really only here to take pictures for his wife

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fernandoalo_oficial the heart is for her only

yourusername and i appreciate you very much for it lancino 🫶

↳ lance_stroll at least someone cares about the work i put in 😔

astonmartinf1 Breaking News: Aston Martin’s Lance Stroll challenges Aston Martin’s social media admin for their job

↳ lance_stroll thanks but i think i’ll stick to driving fast cars. it’s less stress.

user FERNANDO MAKING FINGER HEARTS FOR HIS WIFE 😭😭😭

user if you look closely you can actually see me about to jump off the roof in that last picture 🫠

↳ user real

user why is the first one so cute??

user lance is really just fernando and y/n’s kid at this point, he’s the disgruntled son who reluctantly takes pictures of his dad to send to his mom, and he complains about it, but he secretly loves doing it

↳ user i mean have you SEEN what y/n does for his birthday each year??

↳ user no????

↳ user she specifically learned how to make bannock and a bunch of other traditionally canadian desserts and baked goods for him

↳ user i bet lance’s trainer hates that lmao 😂😂

↳ user you all are talking about them like y/n isn’t just a few years older than lance himself is 💀

↳ user leave fernando and his controversially young wife alone

↳ user guys?? he’s literally only 42?? y/n is almost in her 30s, it could definitely be worse. at least they’re both well into adulthood

user nobody talk to me for the rest of the day this is all i can think about now

user HE MAKES LANCE TAKE PICTURES TO SEND TO HIS WIFE PLS OH MY DAYS

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fernandoalo_oficial throwback thursday, as they say, except it isn’t thursday and i just wanted a reason to post my beautiful wife. te amo 💛.

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yourusername i love you more mio carissimo 💛

↳ fernandoalo_oficial impossible, i love you the most

user adding “posts me just bc he can” to my list of standards for men

user SCREAMING CRYING SOBBING

user “just wanted a reason to post my beautiful wife” oh my god fernando alonso the man that you are… 😩😩

user guys he’s the blueprint

↳ user she’s so lucky

user WHEN IS IT MY TURN???? CAN I NOT BE HAPPY TOO????

user she’s actually so beautiful omg 😳😳😳

↳ user they’re such a power couple

↳ user super excited for y/n to be back in the paddock this year (fingers crossed it happens more) cuz she’s actually so stunning and her outfits are always very classy and fun to look at

↳ user is there a reason she doesn’t go to many races?? they don’t have kids iirc, so idk why she wouldn’t be able to attend more 🤔

↳ user she owns and runs a small bakery in italy, which means she can’t just travel for 9 months out of the year. she shows up when she’s able to, don’t get me wrong, but it’s definitely less frequently than some of the other wags

user gen imagine being fernando alonso’s wife

↳ user i think i would cease to exist

user cuando es mi turno 😭

Valentine’s Day arrives and with it comes the added stress of knowing you’ll be stuck in the bakery all day helping last-minute patrons sort through pastries and treats for their partners. This in and of itself is not a problem, you’ve always liked helping people and baking is your passion after all, but the idea of rising before the sun and being on your feet until long after it sets is not the most appealing, and even worse, your usual happiness is still overshadowed by the cloud of gloom that’s been following you since last week.

Ever since his first late-night call, Fernando has been good about making sure to ring you in the morning before he heads into the factory, and at night when he leaves. It’s helped, certainly, but nothing ever compares to the real thing and that thought makes you feel guiltier every day that you think it.

He has a job to do, a job that he loves. Neither of you should be forced to give up your passions, and that just means needing to make a few sacrifices every once in a while.

He doesn’t call you that morning, however, and though you hide it behind as much of a cheery grin as you can manage, it stings and you’re disappointed.

But throwing yourself into your work is always something you’ve been good at, so you focus instead on kneading dough, mixing pastry filling, and icing cupcakes.

Beatrice finds you back in the kitchen an hour before the bakery is scheduled to open, and the look on her face tells you she knew it’s where you would be.

“You shouldn’t be working today,” she says in lieu of a greeting.

You shrug, sliding a pan of bread from the oven. “We are too short-staffed for me to not be working today. Plus, what would I do anyway? Sit at home alone pretending that I’m not? At least in the bakery, I can put myself to use and be distracted.”

All she does is sigh.

The morning goes well. There’s a bit of a rush when you first open, the most notable of customers is a disgruntled older gentleman who you consider to be a monthly regular. He explains a long-winded story about his daughter’s boyfriend breaking up with her over text last night, and needing something to help cheer her up. He leaves with a box of cannoli, and an extra loaf of bread you threw in for him on the house.

Near the afternoon is when it starts to pick up, but in a lull between customers just after lunchtime, Beatrice corners you in the back. Her arms are crossed over her chest, her eyebrows are furrowed, and her mouth is set in a line.

“Go home,” she orders.

You huff. “Beatrice, I am the boss. Not you.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“I am not going home! The rush will get busier later this evening and we are short-staffed—”

“Rodrigo’s coming in to work register in—” she checks the watch on her wrist, “—fifteen minutes. I ran Andrea through kitchen duty the other day and I’ll be supervising her the entire time, and Marco and Silvia both said they could pick up a shift. I also have a text from Samuel’s wife saying if we need even more help she would gladly get her husband out of the house if it means he’ll stop hovering over her, and I’m prepared to take her up on that offer should the need arise.”

You blink at her. There’s a reason she’s the one you leave in charge when you travel, but whenever you’re reminded of just how good she is at managing the bakery you’re always left a little shocked. She orchestrated everything in the span of a morning and you didn’t even notice.

“Why do you want me to go home so badly?” You ask her, shoving your hands down into your apron’s pockets. “Nothing is waiting for me there anyway. Even if we weren’t short-handed, I would’ve still been here.”

“You sure about that?” Is all she says before turning on her heel and exiting back into the front of the bakery.

You don’t pretend to understand what she’s talking about as you hang your apron up and head for home. Beatrice shoots you a wink as you wave goodbye, and it feels like some sort of foreshadowing for whatever awaits you.

Nothing, however, looks any different than it had when you left. You park your car in the empty driveway, collect the newspaper from the stoep, and unlock the door.

Your keys and the newspaper are both tossed onto the counter just inside the kitchen as you toe off your shoes. You hang up your jacket on the dining room chair as you make your way into the living room, and then you pause.

There, resting on the couch is a stuffed toy bear and a bouquet of your favorite flowers. In the bear’s arms is a little sign, and the handwriting is already enough to have your eyes filling with tears.

“Fernando?” You call out to the silent house.

You check the ground floor and find no other sign of him, so you take to the stairs and begin the ascent up to the next, continuing to call out the many different pet names you have given to him throughout the years.

You peek into the bedroom, “Mia vita?”

Stood in the center of the room, a big grin on his face, is your husband. Fernando looks mighty proud of himself, a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s had this planned for a while and he’s smug that he’s managed to keep a secret from you. He opens his arms wide when you just continue to stand in the doorway, and like a flip has been switched, you rush into him when a sob of happiness.

He wraps himself around you, and the feeling of his arms holding you so firmly in his embrace is warm and comforting, and everything you had missed in the weeks he was gone. Your face is pressed into the crook of his neck, and the smell of his cologne has you sagging even further against him, sinking as far as you can into his hold.

He presses a kiss to your head and sways the both of you back and forth.

“Mi vida,” he murmurs. “I’m here, my love. I’m here.”

“I didn’t know you were coming home,” you cry against him, voice muffled from where your face is still pressed against him.

He runs a hand through your hair, scratching his nails against your scalp in the way that always calms you down, and hums. You feel it in the vibration of his chest more than you hear it. “I wanted to surprise you after you told me how stressed you were. I told you, no? I would move mountains and seas to be with you whenever you need me.”

“Ti amo,” you whisper against his skin.

“Te amo,” he whispers into your hair.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, lance_stroll, and 97,141 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial

yourusername to the luce dei miei occhi, i love you more than life itself 💛

view all 3,731 comments

fernandoalo_oficial mi vida i'll love you in this life and the next, until the very end of time itself 💛

↳ yourusername ti amo mia vita

user LUCE DEI MIEI OCCHI = LIGHT OF MY EYES

↳ user oh my days 🫢

↳ user i’m actually ill that is too cute

user they ARE that couple and they have every right to be

user WAR IS OVER

user i need them to adopt me right tf now it’s not a want it’s a need

user GUYS HE WAS JUST IN SILVERSTONE LIKE A DAY AGO??? FOR THE CAR LAUNCH??? THAT MEANS HE FLEW ALL THE WAY TO ITALY LAST MINUTE JUST TO SEE HIS WIFE FOR VALENTINES DAY

↳ user fernando alonso once again proving why he’s the best husband on the grid

↳ user i’m obsessed with them a totally normal amount

lance_stroll every time i saw him he was talking to someone about how he had plans to surprise his wife, i’m so surprised he didn’t end up ruining the secret somehow

↳ fernandoalo_oficial have more faith in your padre

↳ lance_stroll well i’ve seen my “padre” make the most cartoon heart eyes at a picture of baked goods so i don’t think faith is really gonna cut it. you’re whipped man 🤷‍♂️

↳ yourusername lancino you must put up with so much from this old man

↳ lance_stroll you know what? i really do

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @casperlikej @pear-1206

━━ a/n: this is the longest fic i've ever written, coming in at a whopping 5.4k words! and it's also the first request i've written for! so, cheers to that. this is my little valentine's day story, because i'm actually a big sap and i really do love good fluffy romances, so writing this distracted me from the fact that i'm actually very alone at the present haha! anyways, hope you all enjoyed! i also wrote this in under 24 hours, and it's a lot, so if there's any editing mistakes please ignore them, i genuinely could not bring myself to re-read all of this looking for every single mistake.

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #social media au #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso imagine #fa14 #lance stroll

[enviedear]

Okay but Billy with an innocent reader>>>>>>>> LIKE HES SO PROTECTIVE OML

billy + innocent!reader

stop i love this. this should be an au hell i may just write more for it

tw— for use of a gun, toothrotting fluff

request

"go ahead, honey. pull the trigger." billy's voice is sweet against your ear.

your face morphs into a coy apprehension, "and you're sure this won't send me flying on my rear?"

he chuckles, straightening your arms a bit, "m'right here, i won't let that happen."

your eyes focus in on the three rusty cans in the distance, set atop a dry rotting log. you know there's no way you're going to hit them all. you'd be lucky to hit one.

but billy is adamant in both that you need to learn how to shoot, and that you’ll be a ‘natural’. his driving objective, however, being that since he can't be with you from sun up to sun down, he'll have to settle with teaching you how to fend for yourself.

it's not unlike him to behave this way. in the months you've known the gunslinger, you've come to find that his urge to protect you is enormous.

his protection isn't reserved just against the infamous wild men of the west, but rather, anything and anyone. if it could possibly do you harm, physically or mentally, he's there to guard and defend.

like a knight out of the princess tales your mother used to tell you.

you let out a harsh breath before your finger begins to press into the trigger. too soft at first, the metal remains in its' spot, you muster up all your courage and pull the trigger. your eyes are screwed shut as the bullet whistles away, and you quickly turn into billy.

his arms ensnare you, wrapping you tight, "what're you hidin' for? you hit it dead center, sweetheart!"

you lift your head, staring unabashedly into his blue eyes, "did i really?"

he hums, using his dominant hand to steer your gaze away from him and toward the target. sure enough, the can on the left side has a small hole right in its middle.

billy chuckles, his chest rumbling against your back, "told you, my girl's a natural."

you can't help but grin, the tension releasing from your shoulders, "or i've got a good teacher." you tease.

he gives you a squeeze before letting go, gesturing toward the cans, "c'mon, let's see if you can do it again."

emboldened by your first success, you square your shoulders and take aim. this time, you focus a bit more, remembering the sensation of the recoil and trying to replicate it. the shot rings out, and you open your eyes to find another can hit.

billy lightly claps you on the back, "see? just like that, sweetheart."

as you reload, you can't help but appreciate the way the afternoon sun plays on his weathered hat, casting thin rays upon his lips, "m’not as hopeless as i thought."

he grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "do i e’ver lie to you?”

you ignore his sly remark, focusing back in on your targets. with newfound confidence, you continue to practice, the rhythmic sound of gunshots filling the air. as the sun begins its descent, casting a warm glow over the landscape.

the sounds of gunfire continue, each shot feeling more controlled and confident than the last. with every successful hit, billy's pride in your progress shines through his loving stare. he stands by your side, offering guidance and encouragement, a quiet guardian in the backdrop of your learning.

as the sun dips even lower, casting a dim hue over the landscape, you catch a glimpse of billy watching you with a softness in his eyes. he often got this way, completely lost in you. especially when you're doing things his way— not in the way you'd normally feel inclined. you're rather tame and harmless in comparison to billy, the entire west, really.

growing up away from the fast-growing townships and travelers, when you met billy he completely flipped your world upside down. you gave him all your firsts, shooting his pistol only adds to the expansive list of firsts you've given him.

you go to take aim again, eyes closing as you shoot, still too frightened to keep them open— your bullet flies past your targets, missing entirely. you've grown used to the sound of a hit and when you open your eyes to find the miss, you groan.

billy's safeguarding nature becomes even more apparent as you meet his winsome eyes, his gaze lingers on you, subtle worry etched on his features.

he knows you're inexperienced, a stark contrast to the harsh realities of the world he's accustomed to. he knows it isn't, but if this were a shootout, that big of a miss would have cost you your life.

the mere thought of you in that situation is something he's not willing to entertain.

"you're doing mighty fine, sweetheart," he reassures, a tenderness in his voice that speaks volumes, "but remember, there's more to this than cans and targets. gotta keep those pretty eyes of yours open, alright?"

you nod, appreciating his concern and the earnest care he extends. it dawns on you that learning to shoot isn't just a practical skill— it's a testament to the depth of billy's affection. he's arming you with more than just a handgun— he's giving you a piece of his own resilience and determination.

as the sun sets, casting long shadows across the landscape, you take a moment to stand side by side with billy, appreciating the warmth of his presence. the sky paints hues of orange and pink, a picturesque backdrop to the bond that's been forged between you.

"thanks, billy," you say, sincerity lacing your words. "for teaching me, for being patient."

he smiles, a softness in his expression that contrasts with the rugged exterior, "my pleasure, sweetheart. always want you to be able to take care of yourself."

with the last rays of sunlight fading, you holster the gun, feeling a newfound sense of empowerment. billy wraps an arm around your shoulders, guiding you back towards the homestead. as you walk together, the echoes of gunshots in the ears serve as a reminder that you're not just learning to shoot— you're learning to navigate billy's world, and with his protection, you're sure you'll do just fine.

—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !

#billy the kid #billy bonney #billy the kid x reader #billy bonney x reader #william h bonney #william h bonney x reader #tom blyth!billy the kid #tom blyth #coriolanus x reader

[hannieehaee]

Ahhh I’m so excited that your requests are open, you’re like my fav fic author!! If it’s alright would you be able to do a fic where Wonwoo proposes to the reader please? Thank you!

content: bf!wonwoo, established relationship, fluff, proposal, etc.

wc: 1368

a/n: thank u so much u are so so sweet T-T i used a few of wonwoo's own quotes to carats in the confession hehe hope u enjoy!! <3

masterlist

for the first time in his life, wonwoo's brain had completely shut off.

he had no plan. he was completely unaware of what his next move should be. the ring had been purchased exactly two weeks ago (wonwoo knew you so well that he was extremely confident you'd absolutely fall in love with his pick), but no further steps had been taken after that.

it's not that he was an anti-romantic or anything like that. you'd always let him know how loved his words made you feel. you had singlehandedly revealed to the world a romantic side of jeon wonwoo that even he had been unaware of. it was always just so easy with you. loving you was the easiest thing he had ever done. there was never any thinking behind the loving gestures he gave you, nor behind the fondness in his eyes every time they met your own. which was why he currently stood once again with no plan in mind.

there was just no perfect way to ask you to be his forever when he already thought the two of you to be imbedded to each other in all ways possible. although a ring on your finger would make wonwoo the happiest man alive, he already knew you were his as much as he was yours. however, he wanted nothing more than to give you a grand gesture as he expressed to you how badly he wanted to spend every one if his remaining days by your side.

but being wonwoo, he knew no grand gesture would do. he was certain that he would not be able to go through with a grand gesture without throwing it all aside to pour words straight from his heart as he expressed the purest of love towards you. there was no possible way for him to hold back the moment he finally pulled that tiny squared box from the bottom of his sock drawer. the mere thought of looking into your eyes with the intention of making you his would have a plethora of love confessions flying out of his mouth without him even realizing.

despite all this, he had formulated some sort of plan to propose.

tonight was the first time his busy schedule would allow the two of you to share a bed due to the short break he had from tour. he figured that since he finally had you in his arms for the whole weekend, he would cook you a meal (courtesy of mingyu's training) and get on one knee afterwards. it was very simple, but he knew you'd appreciate an intimate setting for such a moment.

however, that had been the plan for tomorrow. today he was simply meant to finish brushing his teeth and join you in bed, finally able to hold you through the night as your breathing soothed him to sleep. yet this was, unsurprisingly, an impossible task for him to complete, as his mind became blank the moment he stepped into your shared room and saw your soft figure waiting for him in bed.

how was he supposed to hold back from begging for your hand in marriage when you were already so fully his? when he knew that a ring would bring him a promise to end his days in your arms until the end of eternity? it was as if time had slowed as he stepped into the room, his eyes full of love as they refused to look away from your form perched in bed, making just enough space for him to fit in there. and he knew that the moment he laid in that bed you would shape yourself to fit perfectly against him. he knew that you'd place yourself in his hold and play with his hair as he told you about his day (despite already having shared bits and pieces of it with you throughout the day), commenting on the things he did today and making plans with him for tomorrow. he knew you were completely unaware of his feelings in this moment as you laid there as soft and pretty as you always did.

yet knowing all these things did not prevent him from from making a quick stop at his drawer and hiding the tiny little box in his pajama pants – pants you would later insist he takes off because you love the feeling of his bare skin against yours. you still hadnt realized he'd been watching you this whole time, as your gaze was still on the tv in front of you. this gave wonwoo the perfect opportunity to nervously approach you as he called your attention away from the screen.

like always, you met his eyes with a smile full of interest for what he was about to say. if he wasnt sure before (which he completely was), then he was sure now. he needed to propose to you right in this moment. he needed to remember the mundane, the day by day that he would have with you for the rest of your lives. his heart was beating for you, and his lungs pumping out air just so he could breathe out his next words.

"marry me?", completely out of breath and with nothing but love in his eyes, he dropped to his knees next to the bed, his extended hand holding your own while the other pulled out the boxed ring from his pocket.

your eyes jumped out, but you didnt seem too exalted apart from that. you scoot over to sit at the edge of the bed, speechless as your eyes began to cloud due to the tears that would soon begin forming in them.

before you could say anything, wonwoo spoke up once more.

"im sorry. i didnt plan it like this, i just ... i couldn't help myself. i couldnt watch you be the love of my life for another moment without making you as mine as humanly possible. i know i couldve given you a dinner and fireworks, or even brought the guys out for a serenade ... but that's not us. this. this is us. this is what i want for the rest of my life. you in my bed, ready to hold me in your arms at the end of the day, letting me do the same any time you come home tired from work," he paused to hold onto both of your hands, looking up at you with adoring eyes as he inhaled, "i hope to become your daily confort in the way you have been mine. even when i'm not tired, i can lean on you. i always know happiness is just around the corner, because you are all i see ahead of me. you are my youth, my past, my future, you are everything. will you please become my forever?"

it was hard for wonwoo to put his feelings for you into words. his relationship with you had always been an enigma of emotions for him; emotions that left him feeling a level of comfort he never thought possible. he had always chased for happiness. he'd always been of the philosophy that one must build their own happiness; that one must live and experience life in order to discover the meaning of the word. except you had thrown him a curveball somewhere along the way and shown him what it truly meant to be happy pretty early in his life.

and now he felt the most happiness he had ever experienced in his many years of life. no matter how many accomplishments he achieved, nothing had thus far compared to seeing you smile with tears in your eyes, nodding crazily at him as you threw yourself into his arms, completely disregarding the ring in his hand. because you didnt care about a ring or a title. he knew you simply wanted to be his in the same way he needed to be yours. there was no better scenario in wonwoo's mind than your enthusiastic approval and the promise of a lifetime chasing happiness together. and now wonwoo would get to have you in his bed, waiting to love him every day for the rest of his life. just like today.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen #svt #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #svt imagines #wonwoo oneshot #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo fluff #seventeen fluff #svt fluff

[curseddollfaye]

toxic baby daddy toji! x reader headcanon ( continued , click here to read the first one)

ᥫ᭡ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! ty! please let me know what you think! ^.^ requests are currently open!! ᥫ᭡

masterlist

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ੈ✩‧·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· *ੈ✩‧₊˚

- toxic baby daddy toji! who will make sure to leave evidence that he’s been in your room before he leaves. Either that be a shirt or a pair of boxers in your hamper

- and when you confront him about it he acts like he has no clue what you’re talking about…typical

- “Why would I do that hmm? You think m’sum kinda psycho?” His stupid lazy grin doesn’t escape his lips as he scratches his bare chest.

- “I actually think you are, move Toji” you roll your eyes at his antics. His shirt hanging off of your fingers which you had found (very discreetly might you add ) in your panties drawer. Somehow though a smile tugs at your lips.

- toxic baby daddy toji! who looks at you in pure shock and bewilderment when he’s at your place one night. His hands had been roaming all over the underside of your silk little excuse for a nightgown you had on. Soft perky tits being palmed by his big rough hands.

- “Fuck you just say t’ me sweetheart?” The talk man looked at you. His lip twitched in annoyance. How dare you deny him cumming inside his pussy?

- You wave the condom in his face. He looked so damn good, his lips were puffed up. Chest littered with your own makes you put on him. “I’m serious Toji. I’m not getting pregnant”

- he grabbed the square foil and looked at you.

- then he had the audacity to toss it behind his shoulder. Grabbing your legs and tugging them upwards, tossing you back on the bed with a yelp.

- “Tch….this pussy belongs to me baby. If I don’t fill it up just how you need, who will?”

- You said fuck the condoms after that. making that birth control appointment the very next day.

- toxic baby daddy toji! who still sends flowers to your job randomly just so your co workers know who you belong to still

- “Um (Y/N)? There’s another bouquet for you down stairs” Your make co worker had uttered to you in annoyance. The man had been trying for weeks to ask you out.

- You took the bouquet from him offering him an awkward smile…before you shuffled away to the empty break room to call the culprit of your third set of orchids and peonies

- “Hi babe” He was quick to answer you.

- bastard

- “I think Kenji gets the message you’re trying to send” You will never tell him that it made you blush like a school girl whenever your work friends squealed whenever he sent you random gifts. it didn’t help that they thought your baby daddy was a walking sex god.

- You loved knowing that regardless you had his baby, and she was adorable

- You hear his voice drop and seriousness over takes his voice

-You could practically see the creases of his eyebrows as he frowned

- “Good, because it wasn’t a message doll. It was a warning”

- “Funny, I don’t see a ring on my finger or a man’s last name on my ID” with that you quickly hung up and turned off your phone just to fuck with him

- serves him right

- toxic baby daddy toji! who is such a good dad. he’s an amazing dad to Megumi. Spoils the little boy rotten because Toji thinks KNOWS his son deserves it. Of course his little girl too!

- Your two year old little girl Rin is a perfect mix of the both of you

- She takes after him in a lot of ways

- And Toji couldn’t be prouder. His chest puffs up with pride whenever he talks about his kids

- “Yeah, the teacher called us the other day to tell us how amazing of a student Megumi is” Toji brags to his business associates. Leaning up against the bar, his suit undone and a pink tinge to his cheeks from all the scotch he had been drinking. Celebrating another business venture of his. More money, more respect in his industry, more of a reason to make you even prouder of him.

- because it mattered to him most.

- “Says he’s gonna be going up to higher level classes than the rest of his classmates. Smart kid , just like his old man” He clinks his glass to his associate with a smirk.

- toxic baby daddy toji! that you still wake up the next morning after he fucked you into the bed all night to cook breakfast for.

- A slap lands on your ass as you reach over to grab your panties to slip them on. they had been carelessly thrown at the edge of the bed, you were truly shocked to find that they weren’t even ripped

- by the way he had gone feral over your new lingerie you would have assumed the poor fabric was torn

- “What do you want to eat?” You asked softly after slipping your robe in. Toji yawned and moved his hair out of his face. His eyes lazy and still sleepy

- “Mmmm, whatever you want to make me mama”

- “Ok, I’ll get the Keurig started. Went to the grocery store yesterday before you came over and got the coffee pods you like so much” You rub his chest softly, as he presses faint kisses on your jaw and shoulder

- “Always taking care of me n the kids sweetheart, thank you” He mumbles against your neck, his breath fanning against your pulse making you get goosebumps on your skin

- …everything felt right for just a moment.

- “Papa! I’s awake!” You hear your daughter yell from her room. Waiting for him to come get her

- and you hear an annoyed mumbled soon after from Megumi who was trying to bask in his weekend and no school

- You giggled softly “I’ll go get Gumi”

#jujutsu toji #toji fushiguro #toji smut #toji x reader #toji zenin #toji headcanons #toji x y/n #toji imagine #dilf toji #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #toji x you #toji fushigro x reader #toji fluff #toji fic #toji angst

[halfagone]

One of the things I love the most about AUs where Danny moves to Gotham City is how easily he fits in. There are AUs where Danny makes a statement and gets noticed for the great guy he is and I enjoy those too, but I love the AUs where Danny fits in as if he's always been here. Where he doesn't stand out, doesn't make a statement.

There is something so quietly compelling about this transition in Danny's life. Danny has always stood out in a negative way. His parents are the town hacks, his sister is a genius that he'll never compare to. Friends who create rallies for their respective causes and actually makes people listen. Even amongst the outsiders, Danny sticks out like a sore thumb.

Danny likes Paulina because it's safe. Anyone would have a crush on the most popular girl in school. That's expected, that's normal. Of course he wants to be popular, what kid doesn't want to be popular?

The A-Listers stand out, not because they're particularly special, but because everyone else has set the standard that only they can reach. They present these kids as what every student should be, and everyone else is just failing to reach their level.

Danny has always striven for normalcy but the only way to achieve it is to fundamentally change who he is and he can't. No matter how hard he tries he can't be that person. He can try, and god has he tried, but he can't change who he is.

And then Danny moves to Gotham.

You can use all sorts of reasons for the move. Maybe this is a scenario where a reveal goes sideways and Danny has to flee. Maybe he has a bad breakup and he wants a fresh start. Maybe he's going to college out-of-state. Maybe he received a promotion at work and his boss wants him to manage the new Gotham branch.

No matter what reason you use, it all leads back to square one. Danny is in a city where he hardly knows anyone, but has heard all the horror stories for. The crime here is nothing like he's ever experienced before. At least with the ghosts, Danny knew they were coming thanks to his ghost sense. He doesn't always get the same courtesy with Arkham breakouts.

But he adapts. It's his specialty. He adapts to new powers and new enemies all the time, he can adapt here too. Human crime might not be his specialty but he knows how to protect himself. And for once he doesn't stand out for it.

Danny is paranoid and hypervigilant? Don't worry, most people here are. They have to be. Danny has scars on his knuckles from fighting ghosts? That's not the mark of a troublemaker, that's the mark of a survivor. Danny keeps a metal baseball bat by his front door? Okay, maybe that's a little strange; most people keep their weapons by their bed.

The point is that all these habits ingrained in Danny's psyche aren't out of place in Gotham. Here, no one thinks strangely of his behavior because they've all developed habits to help them survive. There is a different normal here in Gotham, a different standard, and for once Danny can reach it.

For once Danny is normal and he didn't have to change himself in any way to achieve it. It's proof that there was never anything wrong with him. He just didn't fit in with Amity Park anymore, but there is a place out there where he can.

Gotham City might not have been the home he grew up in, but it's accepted him more than the one he left behind. On the outside, this community might seem rough and harsh and brutal. But these people understand Danny better than anyone else could, because they know what it feels like to fight every day just to survive.

And I think there's something so cathartic about leaving one home, and all the fears that come with that, only to find a better one you never thought you could have.

I don't know. It's just so personal to me.

#dpxdc #halfagone rambles #character analysis #dpxdc au #danny fenton

[icktoriasims]

✨ Spooky Study Set ✨

My first-ever CC set, just in time for Halloween! 🦇✨

Includes 11 items: 4 frames, 6 mounted taxidermy heads, and a li'l bonus frame with spiderweb and butterfly prints.

Download under the cut!

All EA textures + Frankenmeshes (how appropriate!)

Many dark, moody swatches, as well as some fun ones for a more whimsical vibe

I cannot overstate how exciting this is. I haven't released CC since I posted a vampire dress on the Sims 2 site back in, like, 2007.

Item Info

Framed Nature Prints - 8 swatches (4 spiderweb, 4 butterflies) - 126 poly Mounted Fox Head - 1 swatch - 4,369 poly - I made the normal + spec maps myself, so they're a li'l wonky :) Mounted Goat Head - 11 swatches - 1,647 poly Mounted Goat Head (with horns) - 11 swatches - 1,851 poly Mounted Llama Head - 11 swatches - 3,961 poly Mounted Rabbit Head - 8 swatches - 1,081 poly Mounted Rabbit Head (with bowtie) - 24 swatches (red, green, + black bowties) - 1,293 poly Ornate Frame - Round (v. I) - 10 swatches - 806 poly Ornate Frame - Round (v. II) - 10 swatches - 302 poly Ornate Frame - Square (v. I) - 10 swatches - 368 poly Ornate Frame - Square (v. II) - 7 swatches - 400 poly

DOWNLOAD (Google Drive)

P.S. I realized the other day that nolan-sims had a similar idea with taxidermy heads in their simblreen 2021 set—check it out!

CC used in in-game screenshots:

ClutterCat

kiwisim4

myshunosun

Rusticsims

simspaces

SIXAMcc

Wondymoon

#sims 4 cc #ts4 maxis match #my cc #simblreen #simblreen 2023