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tender-rosiey · 2 years ago

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heyy, may i ask for a satoruxreader where its readers birthday and gojo and megumi are tryna bake a cake for reader? (ofc gojo has a backup cake that he bought just incase anything goes wrong cuz ofc its gojo what do you expect)

kind — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: what do you guys do when people start singing happy bday? I just smile until my cheeks hurt 🥲 anyways this is set when megumi was still a kid

"megumi, wake up!" satoru yells as he slams the door of the boy's room open. naturally, he is met with one ruthless glare, but he rapidly tries to save himself, "before you get mad, look at the date!"

the boy grumbles before getting up and checking the calendar. his eyes widen at the 'y/n's birthday' written under the date. quickly, he scrambles to his feet and starts pulling satoru downstairs and towards the entrance.

"where are we going?" satoru inquires the rushing megumi.

megumi pauses then looks at him, confused and wondering just why is this guy so stupid, "to get the cake obviously."

satoru laughs loudly and starts shaking his head, "megumi, megumi, megumi…we are going to bake the cake ourselves!"

the boy in question pales at the suggestion and looks at his sister's room in hopes of her waking up and rescuing him. however, the girl does not get the telepathic waves her brother is sending and is still soundly asleep.

so megumi is then dragged by one very excited gojo satoru. satoru eagerly wears his apron—one that has a very proud catoru on it—then he helps megumi put his own. megumi’s apron has a chibi drawing of his divine dogs and no matter how much he denies it, it’s obvious that he likes it.

while satoru gets the ingredients, megumi is laying out the rules for today’s baking mission. satoru does glare at him every now and then but he can’t exactly complain. his experiences with baking are disasters that can't be ignored.

so naturally, the little boy was in charge of the measurements cause god forbid satoru does it.

“satoru, how the hell did you mess that up?!”

“y/n, it said two spoons!”

“TABLE SPOONS NOT TWO SPOONS FROM A FREAKING SPATULA, YOU SUGAR OBSSESSED—“

so no, satoru shall never touch something related to measurements. the both of them stand in front of the ingredients, determination radiating off of them.

satoru takes hold of the recipe and starts reading, “we need a cup of white sugar!”

nodding, megumi swiftly gets the cup and hands it to satoru.

satoru pours it in the bowl and megumi has to stop him from ‘taste-testing’. from there on, they start working in (partial) harmony—fighting every now and then with megumi almost losing his marbles over the supposed adult trying to eat something every minute.

after a bit, they are finally done with the dry ingredients, each of them sporting a handful of flour on his hair. megumi glares up at satoru, “you ruined my hair.”

“now you will look more like me and people won’t think that I kidnapped you!” satoru beams but megumi easily ignores him.

said boy grumbles and starts padding away to get the wet ingredients, doing his best to gather them in his arms and delivering them in one trip. satoru simply watches him with a little grin before asking, “say, what do you think of y/n?”

after putting the ingredients on the counter, megumi looks up at satoru, confused, “why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. I mean it’s obvious you like her more than me,” satoru fake sniffles—in megumi’s eyes it’s asking to be punched but oh well, “but, I want to hear you say it.”

satoru doesn’t expect him to answer so he doesn’t question any further.

satoru starts pouring the wet ingredients together. he starts humming a soft tune, your favorite song, and finally combining the ingredients together. he then hands megumi the bowl for him to mix the batter.

the boy silently does it. and they are left to bask in the silence, before megumi finally speaks up, “I think she is nice…probably one of the kindest people I have met.”

satoru smiles at him then laughs lightly, patting the boy’s head, “that’s good.”

when megumi is done with the mixing, he—with the help of gojo—pours the batter in the baking pan. megumi’s face is troubled for a moment before he looks at satoru, “you’re going to marry her, right?”

proudly, satoru nods, “was planning on doing it even before your little grumpy-self showed up.”

megumi watches satoru put the baking pan in the oven with ease. satoru then dusts his hands and megumi glares at him, “break her heart and I will fight you.”

satoru grins, frame towering over the boy, “you think you can win?”

the boy nods up at the white-haired man and gets into a fighting stance almost immediately, summoning his divine dogs. satoru quirks a brow and he seems like he is going to fight megumi as well, but, instead, he bends down to ruffle the boy’s hair.

normally, he would instantly swat his hand away, but right now, it catches megumi by surprise and he looks at satoru wide-eyed.

“you don’t have to worry about me breaking her heart.”

reluctantly, megumi looks down and mutters a small ‘good’.

after a long while, they hear your voice, “I am home!”

“Y/N!!!!!” your boyfriend screams the moment you step in. he tackles you into a very big hug and starts peppering your face in kisses, “how was your day?”

“it was okay,” you pat his head then you look at the boy, “hey, megumi! how’re you?”

megumi nods with a small smile and you chuckle before noticing what he is wearing, “what’s with the aprons, you guys?”

satoru, who hasn’t stopped kissing your cheek since you entered, replies excitedly, “we were trying cook something!”

you sweatdrop and nervously look at your boyfriend, “…and how did that turn out?”

“hey!” he huffs, “you need to have some faith in my cooking skills!”

“satoru, last time I did that you—“

“what’s that burning smell?” a sleepy tsumiki mumbles as she finally gets out of her room.

megumi and satoru share a look before satoru darts to the kitchen screaming about his masterpiece. you and the kids follow suit. when you enter, you find satoru on his knees—devastated and probably about to start act two of his ‘I am great cook’—with a very burnt cake in his hands.

tsumiki goes to pat the sad cook’s back while megumi grumbles, “I shouldn’t have unrealistic expectations anymore.”

you chuckle at the scene unfolding in front of you. however, you already find yourself walking towards satoru. he quickly throws himself into your embrace. rolling your eyes, you still rub his back to comfort him about his deceased cake.

what you don’t notice is satoru winking at megumi who gets the cue to close the lights.

you look around in the now dark room, “did the lights go out again?—“

satoru disappears from your arms and you hear rustling and whispers. however, it quickly quiets down and when the lights are back on, you’re met with quite the sight.

satoru, megumi, and tsumiki are all wearing birthday party hats. there is also a very humongous cake on the counter.

the cake has a miniature version of the four of you. mini megumi is noticeably grumpy with mini tsumiki having the sweetest smile on her face—just like the real one. mini satoru is latching onto your mini version who looks done with everything around her.

there are also towers of gifts distributed in the entire room.

but you barely have time to focus on them any further before satoru eagerly blows a birthday whistle and screaming out, “on my mark—three, two, one, go! happy birthday to you!”

the kids sing along—though megumi does it a little shyly.

overwhelmed, your eyes start to tear up and satoru’s feet naturally take him to you. his arm is around your waist as he pulls you close and continues singing for you.

megumi also makes his way to stand beside you with tsumiki tagging along. you lock eyes with satoru who smiles tenderly at you, singing, “happy birthday, dear y/n,” he presses a kiss right under your eye while wiping your tears, “happy birthday, y/n.”

“WOHOOO!” satoru loudly cheers and picks you up, twirling you around making you laugh. when he sets you down, he presses one loud smooch to your cheek once again.

tsumiki giggles before she quips, “blow the candle, y/n!”

your head snaps towards satoru who is already smirking at you. you narrow your eyes, “don’t you even dare. it’s my birthday!”

“really now?” he tilts his head before easily throwing you over his shoulder and quickly blowing out all the candles, ignoring your nonstop hitting of his back. he then starts spinning around and his laughter fills the room.

“SATORU, YOU’RE GOING TO DROP ME! STOP!”

“NEVERRRRR!”

meanwhile, megumi and tsumiki are left sighing at the scene in front of them.

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literaryvein-reblogs · 5 months ago

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hello i love your word lists and i was wondering if i could request one specifically for baking! i need title inspo for a story i'm writing :)

Some Baking Vocabulary

Aeration - the treatment of batter or dough by charging with air to produce increase in volume

Ancient grains - all whole grains are considered ancient because we are able to trace their roots back to the beginning of time

Caramelization - cooking sugar until it’s brown or golden

Chocolate - from the Aztec word xocolatl, meaning "bitter water"; a food derived from the cacao bean fermented, dried, roasted, ground and processed into cocoa powder; a liquor used to make a variety of chocolate products

Citron - the sweetened rind of a fruit

Clarify - to make a substance clear or pure

Courverture chocolate - high quality chocolate used for tempering and glossy coating

Crescent rolls - crescent-shaped bread rolls having a flaky texture

Crushing - formation of dry crust on surface of doughs due to evaporation of water from the surface

Currant - the acidulous berry of a shrub, usually dried and dark in colour

Essences - aromatic compounds used for flavouring confectionery; can be natural or synthetic, or blends of both

Ganache - a rich, smooth mixture of chocolate and cream is used as a filling, frosting, or glaze

Genaese - fatless sponge cake used as base in decorated cakes

Glaze - coat a dessert with a liquid, like melted chocolate, mirror glaze, sugar glaze, etc.

Hearth bread - yeast bread baked in round, oval or free form on hot, flat baking surfaces in an oven

Liqueur - spirits sweetened with sugar and flavoured with essences, fruit juice, or essential oils

Macerate - to soak the fruit in liquid, often sugar or alcohol, to soften it and enhance its flavor

Marble - creating a swirl effect by incorporating two doughs or batters of different colors or flavors together

Mise en Place - a French term meaning “everything in its place,” referring to the preparation and organization of ingredients before baking

Molasses - light to dark brown syrup obtained in making cane sugar

Old dough - yeast dough that is overproofed; dough may have tripled in volume and fallen

Oven spring - the rapid rise of bread dough during the first few minutes of baking due to the expansion of gas bubbles; critical for achieving a good loaf volume and a light, airy crumb

Petit fours - small fancy cakes that can be placed in the mouth in one piece

Plaiting - the weaving of one or more ropes of dough into an ordered design

Ramekin - a small dish made of glass or ceramic that is used for serving baked goods like custards, cakes, souffles, and more

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: Word Lists

So glad to hear this, thank you! Hope this helps with your search. Would love to read your work if it does. Otherwise, you could go through the sources, perhaps I wasn't able to include the right word/phrase for you. Also have more food-related posts here :)

#baking #writing reference #terminology #writeblr #dark academia #spilled ink #literature #writers on tumblr #writing prompt #poets on tumblr #poetry #creative writing #writing inspiration #writing ideas #writing resources

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nctsplug02 · 1 year ago

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I Wanna Make You Scream j.j

GENRE: smut, second chance

WARNINGS: cnc, ghost face (scream) mask, kissing, no foreplay, breast play, dry humping, doggy-style, missionary, unprotected sex, hair pulling, cheating, deceiving, and spanking.

“yeah,” you set down the piping bag and sigh. “i know, babe. i’ll see you in a bit?” your boyfriend, mark, says a yes and i love you before hanging up.

“i gotta finish this cake up,” you tell yourself and pick the piping back up, again.

you color in the black eyes and ask alexa to play your music. “you hear a creature creepin’ up up behind. you’re out of time— ‘cause i got this thriller!” you sing and bob your head.

“thriller night— there ain’t no second chance.” you take a step back and look at the cake, giving a smile when seeing how nice it looked.

“now for writing,” you sigh and switch to the piping bag with a smaller tip. “don’t fuck up, y/n.” you tell yourself and begin to pipe out a sentence that matched with the cake.

thriller ends and another song plays.

“i…” you emphasize and write cursively. “wanna…” you stick out your tongue and squint your eyes. “make…” you rearrange your placing on the piping bag. “you—fuck!” you hiss when the frosting pops and explodes a bit.

take your time, y/n.

you nod and refocus on the cake before mark got to your place. “you…” you pipe again and ignore the small mistake.

the cardboard platter it was on was already black so it didn’t matter since it blended in perfectly.

“scream…” you finish off and set down the piping bag with a huff. “finally,” you groan and start cleaning up your mess.

after cleaning, you turn back to your cake and the blob of black frosting has you staring at it for a good minute. “my OCD says not tonight.” you grab items that are small enough to clean your mistake.

you gasp as your song plays, “lock me up and throw away the key, you know how’da get the best outta me. i’m no fool for the world to see, trade my whole life just to be.” you sing and hum the beat after kim jennie finishes her line.

you gasp when feeling hands on your hips and a bulge against your lower back. “mark,” you giggle and continue to clean the mess. “you’re early. why so?” he doesn’t answer.

you turn to see your boyfriend wearing a ghost face mask. “what? babe, i thought we agreed to be cops and robbers, no?” you laugh and smack the chin of the mask.

you shake your head and turn back to the cake. “can you go sit in the living room? you aren’t supposed to see the cake yet!” you chuckle and attempt to hide the cake.

the grip on your hips return. “ow, mark,” you wince with a half giggle when feeling the grip on your hips tighten. “you’re hurting my hips, babe.” you stand and place the piping bag next to the cake.

you go to turn but are pushed forward and against the counter. “mark,” you firmly state the slight pain in your hips. “i said you’re hurting me!”

the bulge grows bigger as you try to shove him away. his bulge rubbing against your ass as he grinds his hips against you.

“mark, stop being weird and let go!” you scoff when being pushed onto your chest. your toes barely holding your weight as he bends you over and grinds himself shamelessly against your clothed ass.

“mark,” you breathe out.

your jaw drops when feeling your jeans begin pushed down to your knees. your ass hanging out bare. “what—“ you try and turn your head but immediately, you’re shut down.

“why are you being so rough? you’re never like this!” you let out grunts as the male grows rough with you.

“oh!” you gasp and slap a hand on the marble counter when feeling a cock being pushed into you. “fuck,” you exhale and clench around the thickness. “you’re so fucking thick, mark.” you moan, eyes falling shut.

you groan when feeling your head being tugged back. tight strains on your scalp as the large hand yanks your hair back. with a hand on your lower back, the thrusts begin.

it doesn’t start off slow or anything, the man gets right to the point.

his thrusts going rough and fast, the sounds of his balls beating against your folds and your moans mixing together.

a harsh slap on your ass has you arching up with a moan. “fuck!” you cry out and clench tighter around the thickness that was sucked by your insides.

the large, soft hands rub in the same area before slapping the other cheek. it leaves a hand print that quickly turns red.

you manage to bring a hand below your hips and your fingers find themselves on your clit.

you were dripping.

you moan louder when feeling a shock of pleasure shoot down your spine after rubbing a small circle on your clit.

“i’m gonna cum,” before you can say anything else, you’re yanked off the counter and turned.

you’re caught off guard when seeing the mask but remembering it was just mark underneath.

he lifts you and sits you on the counter where he pushes you on your back and shoves himself inside you.

“fuck, when’d you get so ripped?” the deep rack of chocolate like abs has your eyes stuck. “have you been sneaking off to the gym on your free time?”

you lightly gasp when your the male pulls off the rest of your jeans and tosses them behind him. “that was sexy, baby.”

he hasn’t said a single word to you and it was making you grow frustrated. this wasn’t like mark.

you sit up and grab the collar of the mask. “take off the mask and kiss me, baby.” he yanks his head back from you and snatches the mask from your hold.

you’re shocked when he chokes you, his hands squeezing your throat and then smacking you on the cheek once.

“i—“ you suck in a gasp and roll your eyes when feeling his cock hit your g-spot. “oohh, fuck,” your moan shakes as he fucks you roughly.

his hips slamming into yours while he holds your neck in place. his head spinning in circles as he pants and grunts in the mask.

“fuck,” the male whispers and releases your neck, his hands pulling off the mask and revealing jeong jaehyun.

his dark black hair together in strands of sweat, his gold necklace falling in place and his mouth gapped as he takes deep breaths.

“what the fuck?!” you scream and sit up.

“surprise…missed me, baby?” jaehyun licks his lips and heaves with a smile.

your eyes well up. “j—jaehyun,” you gasp. “and, here i thought you forgot about me.” jaehyun frowns and rubs your thighs.

“how are you here? w—why are you here?” jaehyun smirks and grabs your waist so that your legs are wrapped securely around his waist. “i wanna make you scream, baby.”

jaehyun begins fucking into you, again. ignoring your questions and demands.

“m—my boyfriend is almost here! he’s gonna—he’s gonna kick your ass.” you pant and ignore the pleasurable feeling. “is he now?” jaehyun chuckles and shakes his head.

“let’s make it quick then, why don’t we?” you shake your head and slap a hand over your mouth.

eyes rolling back and mouths slipping through the gaps of your fingers.

“c’mon, baby. i wanna hear how pretty you sound, don’t hide yourself now.”

fuck it, you’ve only been dating mark for a month and a half now. what’s there to lose?

you remove your hand from your mouth and allow your moans to fill the room. “‘s my girl,” jaehyun chuckles and rubs your clit.

“oh, fuck.” you cry out and allow jaehyun to abuse your cunt like he’d done before in the past.

jaehyun was the only one who knew your body the best. how to get you cumming in minutes, finding your g-spot like it was the easiest thing on the planet and knowing how to get your nipples sensitive from just a singular rub, lick, and flick.

“cum for me, princess.” your cunt swallowing him whole and giving jaehyun a whole show as it does.

“fuck, im cumming,” you sigh. “that’s it, princess. do as i say.” legs shaking and squeezing jaehyuns tiny waist as you cream all over the thick cock.

“uh-huh, baby.” jaehyun bites his lip and grunts, giving one last slow thrust and cumming inside you.

his hands grabbing your cheeks and forcing you into a sloppy kiss with him. his teeth gnawing at your bottom lip before pulling away with a sexy moan.

“you taste exactly how i remembered,” jaehyun chuckles and bites his lip. “so fucking sweet.” he gives you one more kiss and pulls up his black sweats.

as jaehyun helps with your panties, you speak up. “jaehyun,” he hums and fixes your jeans that are inside out. “how’d you get in?”

a smirk forms on his lips. “you know, princess,” he sighs and helps one foot in. “i would say this is a lesson for you but, i’m glad this happened.” he looks up at you. “really.” he puts the other foot in.

jaehyun helps you off the counter and pulls up your jeans. “you should always keep your doors locked.” as you stand flabbergasted, he buttons up your jeans and pats your hips when finished.

“i’ll see you next time, princess.” jaehyun kisses you once and grabs his mask off the ground, turning and leaving with once last wink over his shoulder.

it takes you a good ten minutes to take that all in. “wow,” you stand against the counter and put a hand over your mouth, rubbing your lips and jaw. “wow…” you shake your head.

KNOCK KNOCK!

now, that was mark.

AN| this was SO last minute. i wrote this 6 minutes before halloween. SIX MINUTES BEFORE MIDNIGHT OF HALLOWEEN DAY! so if there are any mistakes, just enjoy and imagine and read and take in everything like you know what i said. i love you and trick or treat safely. 🩷🩷🩷

AAN| i am so sorry if this fic made any of you readers uncomfortable! there was an anon who reached out to me and explained who they felt and what i should’ve added in the warnings so i fixed it! please always reach out to me whenever i’ve made a mistake! it’s always embarrassing when i make mistakes but i like to go by the quote that “mistakes are meant to be learned from.” i love you so much, anon, thank you for reaching out to me! i am so very sorry that i made you uncomfortable, i really didn’t intend to! 🩷

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drewharrisonwriter · 2 years ago

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Donor Part 4 (Final)

Part 1 | Part 1.5 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairings: Bestie Henry Cavill x OFC

A/N, Warnings: 18+, this is it... the last part of Donor. English is not my first language.

I’m AO3, too as MoonDjarin ^_^

“Oh…” A gasp escaped your lips, your hand instinctively covering your mouth as shock settled in. Tears welled up in your eyes as you stared at all three positive pregnancy tests resting on the bathroom counter. A silent rush of emotions flooded over you, causing your hands to tremble in disbelief as you picked one up. The cool, marbled counter became your anchor as your legs threatened to give way beneath you.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you attempted to compose yourself. With the sleeves of your sweater, you wiped away the tears that had started to flow and went out the bathroom with one of the tests to look for Henry. Your heart is racing and your mind feels like it’s about to turn into mush, you should be happy about this, why are you so nervous?

The voices drifted from the kitchen as you reached the landing of the staircase. Passing through the living room, you moved under the archway that led to the dining area. And there stood Henry in an old and faded gray t-shirt and jeans, hands submerged in soapy water, gently tending to your 7-month-old daughter, Vivienne. The kitchen told a tale of joyful chaos—baby food scattered about, unfinished waffles sitting on the kitchen island, and blueberries on the floor.

“Mama!” A joyful squeal from your 4 year old daughter, Marianna, or Mari as you fondly call her, greeted you as she caught sight of you at the kitchen's entrance, her little sister, two year old Serena (Sisi), mimicking her with a wave.

“We cwean the house fow you!” Sisi's prideful proclamation filled the room, her adorable voice resonating with accomplishment. A soft smile adorned your lips as you warmly acknowledged your young helpers. Under your breath, you praised, “Great job, babies.”

Henry turned around with a beaming smile on his face, his laughter still echoing from moments earlier when your 7-month-old daughter had been gleefully causing a watery mess in the kitchen.

“Hey, darling, how are you feeling?” he asked, his smile tinged with a touch more concern. He gently scooped up the baby, wrapping her in a towel and patting her dry.

Your throat tightened, and your eyes brimmed with tears once more. As though Henry sensed the impending news, he shook his head in disbelief, a chuckle escaping him. "No, no way…" he muttered, his grin so expansive you thought his face might rip in half.

“Hank…” you began, your voice trembling. You trailed off, the weight of emotions overtaking you, and you broke into sobs.

“Oh no!” Mari exclaimed, getting up from the floor to hug your leg. “It’s okay, mama.” She said softly, rubbing a hand up and down your leg, and you managed to chuckle a little, running a hand through her dark curls to show your appreciation. Sisi, the ever clone of her older sister, did the same.

He moved closer, his voice soothing and warm. “Oh, no, no, no, darling. Don’t cry, just tell me,” he cooed, placing the baby in her high chair and wiping his hands on his trousers as he walked toward you and the girls, enveloping you in a comforting embrace.

“I’m so sorry,” you repeated between sobs, but he shushed you gently and the girls went back to picking up blueberries from the floor.

Henry knew.

Of course he does. He knows you so well, and you’ve been feeling sick and losing appetite the past few weeks, plus your period came in really light earlier in the month. You have been so sensitive to touch and have been feeling sluggish and sleepy.

But the icing on the cake happened the other night where you cried watching a wildlife commercial where a bird was swallowed by an alligator and Henry fought back so hard not to laugh but failed, miserably, exploding in a fit of laughter which got you even more riled up, throwing pillows at him. You both had been through this three times before, with the last one not being that long ago, he knew the signs so well by now.

He had playfully suggested you take a pregnancy test before seeing your doctor, those mischievous eyebrows of his wiggling with a teasing twinkle in his eyes. You had brushed it off, convinced it was too soon and impossible.

Yet, here you were, holding one of the three positive tests in your hand. His response was laughter, a joyful sound that blended with the soft kisses he planted on your tear-streaked face.

“I told you so!” he teased, his laughter mixing with your sobs.

Through your tears, you irritatingly asked him, “How do you find this so amusing? Vivi is only 7 months old. How are we ever going to manage?”

Henry's laughter lingered, accompanied by the cheerful chatter of his other daughters in the backdrop. In that moment, his heart felt as though it might burst from the sheer joy of the moment.

“It’s alright, darling, don’t cry,” he cooed, wiping the tears on your cheeks with his thumb.

“You’re not upset?” you were surprised by his unwavering calm in contrast to your own turbulent emotions. “Or scared?”

He chuckled, his affectionate response carrying the weight of his feelings. “First of all, I could never be upset about having more babies with you. And no, we've been through this before. You're giving me another child, for god's sake, nothing can make me happier than that.” He sealed his words with a lingering kiss pressed to your forehead.

Despite his reassurances, your fears lingered. “I’m so scared.” You admitted, “And I feel like we're not being fair to Vivi.” Your gaze drifted to your 7-month-old daughter, snugly wrapped in a soft, yellow chick towel. She sat there contentedly, fingers in her mouth, her wide blue eyes taking in the world. A cascade of curly brown hair framed her face from under the chick hoodie, still holding onto droplets of bathwater.

Henry's voice carried a reassuring tenderness. “It’s going to be alright, darling. I'm always here for you, you know that….”

You were well aware of that. For over two decades, Henry had consistently shown what an incredible best friend he could be — his generosity and love knew no bounds. However, all of that paled in comparison to the depth of his role as your husband and the father of your children.

Henry then leaned in and whispered so the kids won’t hear, “You know how much I love it when you’re pregnant, right?” You let out a brief chuckle as he nuzzled his nose against your earlobe and you buried your face in his chest, muffling your voice as you exclaimed, "Ugh, Haaaaank... how did we end up here?"

Your words were absorbed by his chest, and he couldn't help but burst into laughter once again. He gently pulled away and turned his attention to the little girls who were now devouring the blueberries they were meant to clean up from the floor.

"Guess what, my lovely princesses. You're going to have another baby sister!" Henry's excitement filled the room, while you responded with a groan. The girls cheered, their joyful leaps reflecting the news.

"How can you be so certain it'll be another girl?" You posed the question to him.

"Well, given the pattern we've got going, isn't it a safe bet at this point?" His smile conveyed his playful confidence and you only shook your head in disbelief.

Eight years have passed since you and Hank began clinically trying for a baby – as best friends. Seven years since you tied the knot, wasting no time to start your lives together just months after the events of Charlie's birthday. You spent your honeymoon in Amalfi, and bought a farmhouse outside of London, big enough for the big family you were planning.

But while your relationship and its changes flowed smoothly, your attempts to conceive were still not as easy. It took nearly two more years before Marianna was conceived naturally.

After over a year of trying, you and Henry considered going through another round of IUI, hoping that it would not lead you to the IVF path. But an accident during the final show of your tour sent you to the ER right after the last number. The standard blood work results brought an unexpected surprise – a positive pregnancy test – leaving you momentarily breathless.

Henry was overseas with Kal doing reshoots for a film he did the previous year and won’t be back for another month. You were itching to call him right then and there and tell him but you decided it’s best if you do it in person, and so you wait.

When he got back a month later, Kal immediately made a beeline for you, his tail wagged furiously as he bounded toward you, showering you with affectionate licks and nuzzles. You couldn't help but laugh, feeling his excitement to be home and to see you.

Henry smiled warmly as he entered the foyer of your home, watching the scene unfold. "Looks like someone really missed you," he remarked.

"Well, I missed him, too." You said in a special voice that you only use with the pets, cupping Kal's head in your hands.

Henry grinned widely, and asked, "And me? Did you miss me, too?" You snorted, standing up and you nodded your head in response.

You embraced him, your arms circling his neck as he drew you in for a soft, lingering kiss on your lips. Henry's voice held a hint of longing as he whispered, "I missed you so much." You echoed his sentiment.

You settled on the couch where almost immediately, your fat cats, Tuna and Luna, jumped on you in their ever so softly feline way and began settling on your lap where they softly purred in contentment.

Henry cocked an eyebrow and looked at you, “That’s new.” He remarked, knowing so well that the cats would rather lay down on burning coals than curl up with any humans. You only shook your head with a smile, gently stroking the cats who are now settling into a nap.

“I suppose when we go outside by the barn, the birds will perch on your shoulders and our chickens will begin to sing?” He joked and you let out a loud laugh.

“Shut up, you watch far too many Disney films. How was L.A.?” You asked him, trying your best to buy yourself time before breaking the news to him. You don’t know why you’re so nervous, and he picked up on it when he noticed you were chewing your bottom lip as he spoke.

“You're nervous." He stated, "What’s going on, Snow White?”

You giggled nervously, your heart skipped a beat at his words. There was no avoiding it now. You took a deep breath, meeting his gaze with a mixture of emotions.

"Hank," you began, your voice wavering slightly, "there's something I need to tell you."

“Please don’t tell me you’re going away…” His tone dripped with a hint of heartbreak, his brows furrowing at the thought of you leaving and doing long distance again. As you hesitated, he sank back into the couch, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose in a gesture of frustration. "I just got home, darling. I was hoping we could at least spend some time together aft–"

You cut him off right then, “Hank, I’m pregnant.”

His eyes shot open, his fingers still at the bridge of his nose, frozen as he processed the news. "What?" he murmured, his expression shifting from confusion to a slow, dawning smile as the news began to sink in. You repeated the words, and he shook his head in disbelief, a grin stretching across his face so widely that you half expected it to split in two.

“We’re having a baby!” He exclaimed pulling you in a tight embrace, peppering your face with small kisses and then he began sniffling.

Henry-Fucking-Superman-Cavill is crying at the news of your pregnancy.

He did the same at the first one, and again when you got pregnant with Sisi and Vivi.

And now, with baby number 4 on the way, he's just as emotional as ever.

The kids have settled in for their mid-day nap, and with the kitchen now tidy, you and Henry find yourselves sprawled out on the couch. You rest against his chest, his hand gently on your stomach, tracing soothing circles, his breath is hot and wet on your neck.

“I can’t believe we’re having another baby this soon,” You said, reaching back to run your fingers on his curls to soothe him.

“Sometimes, I don’t believe that we are living the life we have now.” he choked on his words. "I've always wanted this with you, and all those years, it seemed like a dream."

His confession, though all too familiar from the countless times he’s said it over the years, still tugged at your heartstrings, and you smiled in response.

"It's funny, because you were very reluctant to donate sperm in the first place. I literally had to beg you." you teased, a chuckle escaping your lips, followed by his own laughter.

"But I'm so glad you did, though... Look at what we have now, three beautiful princesses and another princess on the way," Henry chimed in, his laughter laced with pride.

"Stop saying it’s going to be another girl, you might be disappointed. Remember how you were convinced Vivi was a boy?" you playfully retorted.

"Disappointed?" He chuckled in disbelief. "Impossible. Doesn't matter if I'm wrong or right about this one," He splayed his hand on your stomach that's still soft from your last pregnancy and now housing another growing life. "You’re my children’s mother. That’s what matters the most." he kissed you on the temple as he gently pulled you in closer to him.

You hummed, “Thank you for agreeing to be a donor.” You laughed together.

Funny how things turned out after one silly decision that sprouted from an even sillier dream. If anyone had told you eight years ago that your life would unfold so beautifully, you'd have likely chuckled, maybe even taken a long sip from a pint of beer and wondered how it could possibly happen when all that ever happened to you up until that point is to find dead-ends in every relationship you’ve ever been in.

You had at least made bank from the sad songs you’ve written about those relationships over the years. Something that Henry would often joke about or even sing just to annoy you, and those times you often find yourself pondering on what could have been, even more.

If you hadn't mustered the courage to ask Henry to help you pursue your dream of becoming a mother, the path you tread might have taken a different turn. For all you know, you could be still touring at this moment, singing sad songs after sad songs, and not nestled in the arms of the love of your life, with your little dreams sleeping in their bedrooms upstairs in the house that you and Henry have made a home.

All of these twists and turns coalesced to lead you to this very moment.

And despite all that you both went through, you wouldn't change a thing. Even if it took nearly 20 years for the both of you to pave your way into the path that you're in now.

"I love you, Hank," you whispered.

"I love you more, darling." he whispered back, “Always.”

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tastesousweet · 1 year ago

Text

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (viii) - pt 1 pt 2 p3 p4 p5 p6 p7

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : the triplets' birthday party is a perfect place for flirting, tension, and... well, matt and y/n's forte.

warnings : use of alcohol, weed and smut ( just a lil flithy icl ), beware that the word count on this ho is crazy - meaning i did not proofread!

mickey speaks : this took a MINUTE to get out im sawrryyyy. i tried to fit everything into one part and ended up rewriting almost the entire part last minute (which is most of the reason why this is very delayed), sooo hope you love??? bc i dont lmfao also the triplets r a couple yrs older in this (turning 23)

THIS IS PART EIGHT GO READ THE OTHERS FIRST!!!

"JESUS, matt. can you take this seriously, please?" chris scoffs, taking the dry-erase marker cap from its awkward spot between his teeth.

matt's not one to continue adding his opinion knowing it won't be listened to. he prefers to leave the impossible-to-get-a-word-in debating to nick and chris who have no problem yelling over each other to the point that they don't even know what the issue ever was.

so he's found comfort in sitting at the dining room table with his eyes firmly closed and arms used as a pillow for his head, leaving nothing but a dollop of his hair to be shown, or as he told chris "attempting to find peace for myself while living with you chaotic fucks."

"what could you possibly want from me?" matt asks without moving from his face down position, voice muffled and strained.

"i want you to fight for your opinion! don't you care about what we do for our birthday?!" chris stresses while nick rolls his eyes and falls into a bored stance, leaning against the dark marble counter.

matt finally raises his head causing his face to scrunch up and eyes to squint due to the sudden and bright change in lighting, "no? i actually don't give a shit, chris."

chris first feels the instigator within him sighing in defeat only for his pride to take center. he figures if nick has practically given up and matt cares so little, that gives him all of the creative action for birthday plans. exactly what he wanted.

his lips form a tight line to hide his satisfaction as he shakes his head slowly, unevenly wiping his hand across the magnetic white board (that he used to write the many ideas thrown around in his head, mistakenly thinking a visual would narrow things down for him and nick). “‘kay. then i’m getting nate to help plan us a house party and it'll be fucking perfect. because i care.”

౨ৎ

you've never been so grateful of your front door's placement this close to the kitchen. but carrying three cake boxes and a tote bag the size of your torso, desperately needing to put them down after traveling up three flights of stairs, will surely be the task that brings that gratitude out of you.

though when you arrive, your scrunched eyebrows and pouted lips are an apparent contrast to the enthusiastic vibe of your kitchen- with andrea moving her hips to the lines of spanish dancing in the air, waiting patiently for the sizzling indication of her fried egg's tenderness, and the use of pink lemonade-colored towels or handles on utensils (that made you and andrea way too happy during one of your first target runs as roommates) scattered around.

drea finally notices you when your metal keychain clanks against the countertop, "y/n!" her excitement slightly dulls with her widened eyes when she gets a better view of your face, turning the stove off and coming closer to hug you. "hi, good morning-ish. are you feeling okay? ...or, like, sad?" you silently accept her gesture and tuck your head in her neck while she caresses your hair with a sigh, "or both at the same time...?"

your response is a breathy sigh and pause before the words tumble out, "m'fine, i think. just overestimated myself a little with staying up so late." you remove your head from her neck and move backwards to lean against the countertop, fanning your hands to create a much needed breeze, "and i'm so hot, it's making me feel gross."

andrea peers into the clear plastic cutout on top of one of the boxes, "at least the cakes look nice."

a week ago you set your mind on gifting the triplets their own cakes for their birthday (thinking that sharing a day was already enough, no way would you want them to have to share and agree on only one cake). you easily gathered their cake preferences by sneaking it into any random conversations you'd have with each of them.

and after a week of planning and preparing, was it so bad if you wanted a fun night in with your roomie? andrea warned you several times to go to bed considering you'd be up at 5:30 the next morning, but you insisted that you'd be fine and asked her to help you clear the rest of the box-wine in the fridge.

you could tell matt was a little irritated that you chose rewatching episodes of a sitcom and "cheap ass box-wine" over sex with him (of course throwing the fact that his birthday would be arriving in only a few hours right in your face) but you pioneered and assured him that you'll make time for him the next day, while also sweetly reminding him that you too have a life outside of this exchange.

at midnight you sent the triplets a group message to congratulate. and a few minutes later you left andrea on the couch for your room, sending matt a birthday text of his own (because you did feel the tiniest bit guilty for rejecting him earlier) paired with a picture with your shirt lifted, hem tucked behind your teeth, and your boobs sat in a sheer bra with decorative white trimming and a bow in the center.

he didn't respond for almost an hour and you tried to not feel embarrassed or overthink his reaction at all.

you couldn't stand the giddiness that came over you (you'd blame it on being the slightest bit tipsy) when you finally got into bed to find his response gentle, in his own matt-kind-of-way, with your image loved and a grayed bubble text reading: "Very pretty, thank you"

"thanks, drea. they were a bitch to make." water drowns out your voice as you start to wash your hands in the deep sink. you run your soapy fingers over a small cut you got when dealing with an irritating cardboard box earlier, finding the stinging of the hot water a wonderful kind of bitter that further plays into your foul mood.

"mmm... i'm sure. but it's not like you can even tell. they almost look store-bought," she attempts to flatter you, turning her head from the packaged desserts to offer a smile.

when you're sweet you're the most ripe, juicy peach, eveyone knows this. but god, when you're feeling down you really are the most cranky, green apple that could force a pucker onto even the most undaunted. your face is dragged of any aloofness or sunshine with your dry response as she turns to resume her breakfast, "uh huh. you don't have to coddle me. i'll get over myself soon, i promise." you dry your hands.

andrea would argue she's not coddling only looking out for your well being- because she wants to and knows if she were neglecting her needs you'd be right on her ass as well, "okay...and did you eat?"

"just like, a bagel before i left," you open the fridge and let the door hang open as you walk across the kitchen to grab the cake boxes and set them inside. you make sure to mind your feet, noticing figaro nosily has his furry face lifted to sniff into the side door.

she strings some sarcasm into her sentiment, "oh yum." she pauses, letting the sizzle of the egg and (now faint) music linger in the air before she speaks again, "how about you go take a shower or do something that'll make you feel a little better?"

"you know i would but being around my favorite roommate is already making me feel sooo much better!" you deliver the dry joke with a smile and pick up figaro when you shut the fridge door with an accidental slam.

she turns to look at you over her shoulder as she grabs two glass plates for the both of you, scolding you like a mother (as she tended to transform into at times like this due to her essentially parenting her younger siblings) "y/n, you're only fighting yourself, go ahead now."

౨ৎ

matt can hear chris' voice only grow louder and pound against the hallway walls but assumes he is heading anywhere but the space that matt's in, deciding to continue brushing his teeth instead.

he'd only be so lucky on his birthday.

"but yeah-" chris interrupts himself to knock and barely wait for an answer before he walks into matt's sleek bathroom. "matt's here!" his phone is carelessly thrown in front of matt's face (with a frothing mouth and irritated eyes) before he has truly registered anything that has happened.

he truly wants to roll his eyes infinitely but when he sees his mother is the one on the phone, his grumpy front is quickly wilted and a glimmer kisses his spirit in a way only she could produce.

it's clear she hadn't expected matt to be in the middle of something as personal as brushing his teeth when she first sees him, "oh, hi matt!" she understands him well enough to know he absolutely hates this (this being chris unnecessarily close to him as he hunches over to keep matt's face in the camera) so she attempts to amuse him, "wow, you're really showing your age now, aren't you? just looking so put together and nice." she laughs to herself as matt tries to not smile whilst brushing, holding his index finger up to indicate that he would address her with words in only a moment.

"chris, honey, why'd you bring me to your brother when he's busy, anyway?! now we're just watchin' him brush his teeth and the angles you're givin' me are so awkward," she emphasizes her sentence as it goes on.

chris turns the phone back to himself, "because you told me to show him?!"

"no, i said 'where's matt?'" she corrects him in jest.

"okay, so am i incorrect in saying that there was an implication-?"

matt dries his face with a towel and grabs the phone scolding chris, "hey we get it, smartass-" he turns to look at her again with a smile, "sorry mom."

"mhm," she dismisses, "when's this party of yours starting?"

"soon i think," matt moves around chris to exit the bathroom, leaving chris (literally) in the dark.

"okay and how's your birthday been so far?" he smiles knowing how excited she's always been about these things.

"good, i don't feel any different. just doin' the same stuff, except today there's way more people sending me texts and pretending the care about me." matt places the phone against a bowl full of chips in the kitchen, waving when he notices chris followed him.

"get down here nick, mom's on the phone!" chris yells, coming into frame and leaning on the counter. "jeez, matt's masochism can't give any of us a break even on days literally made for our happiness. you hearin' this kid ma?"

matt shakes his head, pointing to chris with his handful of chips, "spell masochism."

chris' eyes pinch and before their mother or chris himself reply, nick is running over to them with a smile and yell of "im heree!!"

she's has the much-expected motherly urge to cry seeing her three sons (whom she rarely sees anymore) all in the same frame, "aw, hi nicky! just look at you boys...so sweet."

it only takes another second before she's crumbling in tears. their smiles drop as chris grabs his phone. they all begin spilling out the most comforting phrases they know to cheer her up.

౨ৎ

"okay people! cake is coming through! everyone move. move, move...precious cargo right here and your ass is in the way!" asha yells and shines her phone's flashlight into the faces in the crowded living room as she ushers the girls to the kitchen.

she earns a few glares that she happily dishes back and a few mumbles of "bitch" once she's walked past that has remi "accidentally" stepping on a certain people's shoes while following asha's lead.

the modern open kitchen hosts plenty of drinks and snacks as well as a worried nathan, who's shirt is barely on his torso from the amount of buttons he's undone since stepping foot in the wild space. "oh thank god the cake's are here," he sighs with a throw of his head before frantically moving a platter of chips and guac (that someone was actively eating from) and a few six packs from the island to the opposite counter, encouraging the girls to place them down with an awkward nod of his head and harsh blink of his eyes.

asha holds back a laugh at nate's odd vibe as she moves next to him, nudging his shoulder, "what's wrong with you?"

"nothing," his head whips to look at her, "well, i mean, think 'm just nervous." he starts slow but it seems he needed someone to finally prompt him to share such a frustrated rant, "like- chris comes to me and asks me to throw him the best party. yet he doesn't give me shit to work with besides his home to host it in-" he breathes, "and 'm feelin' all the pressure of planning a party right now but, you know, i just need things to go smooth and then i'll be fine..." he runs a hand through his hair, "you ladies don't worry about me." he fakes a smile and gives a small wave of his wrist to show just how "fine" he is.

coinciding with nate's rant, you've began to pour a hefty amount of vodka and lemon juice (you absolutely scoured the fridge for) into a large glass. you hand it off to andrea with a pleading "mix" as you lick the remaining lemon juice from your thumb and open cabinets to search for shot glasses.

you line up a multitude of shot glasses with various cities labeled on them as andrea pours the mixture in carefully. you immediately bring one up to nathan, "lemon drop?"

"yes, please. no way your a fucking bartender and baker?" nate's eyes widen as he receives the small glass.

"no, definitely not. just live with a girl whois always making her own drinks at home," you smile and grab your own glass as the rest of the girls follow suit.

"i need this right now," remi starts, "let's cheers to drea's DIY shit and nathan making it through the rest of the night!" she woops and the group all let out various chuckles.

"a-fuckin'-men!" nate leans to clink the small glasses softly before taking the shot quickly. he barely recovers from the shot before he's pouring more vodka into his glass and taking a second.

you get the best view of chris turning the corner and seeing you all (his reaction is more specifically for andrea) have arrived. his jaw hangs dramatically as he walks over but quickly turns to a big smile when the group all start to sing happy birthday to him. "stop it! stop it!" he jokes and begins to give out hugs and thank each of you for coming. he stops and squeezes you extra tight, bringing up the cakes sat nearby, "i know that bakery anywhere. thank you for my cake."

"of course, i had to," you smile.

"no seriously, you're fuckin' awesome, girl." you can tell he's already a little buzzed from the look in his eyes but you also know he's almost more truthful than ever when drunk.

you notice that when he leaves you to finally greet your roommate, it's very clear he's purposely left andrea last to ensure there would be no rush on his interaction.

the rest of the group leave them to their own world for a moment; as the two hug chris gives her a soft kiss on her forehead, whispering "hi, mi cariña (my darling)" an inside joke between the two of them as chris' struggle with speaking spanish never fails to make andrea laugh.

౨ৎ

"okay, okay, i'll do it," matt finally gives in, lifting himself off of the black couch with people piled on top of it. he hands his drink over to elijah smoothly and begins to playfully rub his hands together.

"'hold my beer' headass," elijah jokes placing the cup off on a side table next to him. matt stops any movement, turning his torso to look back at the boy and start to laugh while holding both middle fingers up.

"matt," erin taps him with the side of her arm twice to get his attention again, handing him the second wii remote in her hands. the screen appears extra bright in contrast to the dimness of the room which causes matt to wonder how the fuck anyone has managed to play just dance in this space without getting a sudden head rush or worse.

"okay, let's do timber because it's classic," she suggests.

"let's not," matt opposes, his hand covering his mouth to hide a grin before running his cursor over the other choices.

erin looks over to him with a blank expression, "i mean i don't care that much you can-"

"'m joking, we'll do timber," matt looks from her to the colorful screen to find the song once more.

when he notices she's stiil looking over at him with an unreadable expression, matt smiles big attempting to not laugh, causing his already-slim eyes to pinch a little extra as he turns to her, "hey e, the screen's right up there, you won't be getting much direction from starin' at me-" he breaks into obnoxious laughter mid-way through his sentence which earns him a small smack on the arm.

erin laughs a little now, "would you stop it? just click 'a' on your fucking remote."

he does as she says and looks to her as the screen loads, "thereee we go, you can cool down now, sweetheart."

as the two dance both matt and his friends make one-off comments and jokes about the many times matt almost fell (and would make sure to blame it on the rug or his shoes). they seem to be having such a great time that you don't know if you only being there for the final few lines of the song, watching erin ride matt's back as they spin in circles laughing, is fortunate or unfortunate.

the claps and whistles are wild when the two finish with a bow, the crowd around them only getting louder when matt teases that he's so hot he might have to take off his shirt, lifting it slightly then putting it back down and calling them pervs. you only shake your head and bite back a smile, hating how fucking charming he is when he allows himself to be completely lost in a good time.

matt would say you snuck onto the sectional couch- because a minute ago you weren't there and now here you are talking elijah's ear off and taking repeated hits of his blunt.

but you wouldn't say you snuck into his area, rather walked in a manner in which you'd be out of his and erin's way- of course not taking away from the birthday boy and his...good friend. so you're a bit surprised he slumps on the couch next to you and not in his original spot on the opposite side of eli, "sunnnyy," he huffs and leans his head back against the couch, "when'd you get here, huh?"

you turn to look at him and he smiles at you then looks up to the ceiling, "think an hour ago? maybe?" you hand him the blunt.

"cool, cool, cool..." matt repeats cutting himself off by placing it in his mouth. he's dressed so stylish and attractive you can't help but scan over him with your eyes; his jersey-style shirt showing off his armfuls of tattoos, baggy jeans, car keys hanging on a cheetah print clip attached to his belt loop, shoes that look straight out of the box, a matching hat that you honestly wish he'd take off, and his signature silver jewelry brightening his attributes in the otherwise dark room.

he makes the slightest "tsss" sound when breathing in the drug before speaking with smoke plummeting from his mouth, "you should dance next," he brings it back to his mouth for a final hit.

"mmm maybe...if lucas is up for it," you play with the metal can of a wine cooler that you hold on your bare knee as matt leans over you to hand an occupied eli his blunt back, his laugh trails smoke out of his mouth and into your face as he slouches back next to you.

"forgot you're fuckin, hilarious! holy shit." his hand makes its way up his own shirt to rest on his stomach as he giggles.

a smile grows on your face, "no seriously is he here?" you lift yourself up a little and pretend to look for the familiar face.

"stop that." matt chuckles and tugs your wrist gently. you almost get nervous this time when you look him in the eyes. when he's drunk, matt is so carefree and giggly in a way you rarely get to see. and now you’re starting to notice how the poor lighting makes his features appear arched and his face look carved into, yet the jagged becomes soft and fuzzy whenever the gumdrop-colored lights of the wii game hit his face with the beat of the song. he notices your staring and lets go of your wrist, "what's up?"

"nothing."

"excuse me everyone! i would like to give a speech! hello, i am giving a speechhh! everyone shut up, please!" nick projects his voice into the microphone- he stole from the karaoke machine -while standing on a dining room chair.

as people start to calm down nick speaks, "right, so, it's my fuckin' birthday!” he raises his arms and dances his fingers before pointing out matt, “and it's matt's fuckin' birthday, right over there! let's get some flashlights pointing over to my brother please!" matt’s face flushes as he covers his eyes from the sudden bright lights. you squint your own eyes from next to him and move closer to eli to avoid the flashes.

"and it's chris' fuckin' birthday..." nick looks around, "i couldn't tell you where exactly he is, just know that he is also here tonight!” the crowd roars, “anyway... i'm so- so happy to have you all with us tonight to celebrate. we turn twenty fucking three and... that feels so old saying it out loud. holy shit." nick cringes obnoxiously, slurring his next few words, "but i love my two best friends in the whole world: chris and matt, i wouldn’t wish to share a birthday with anyone else… and i love all of you thank you again. oh! and shout out nathan for holding this shit down! if you see nathan give him something... i don't know- money? a kiss? a drink? fuck if i know." as nick speaks cameron nudges him with a shot glass which he finally acknowledges, "and apparently this is a toast now so, you know, here's to getting older and having the most fun forever!" he raises the glass in the air and drinks it without further thought, inviting everyone to do the same while cheering and applauding him in excitement.

you raise your wine cooler and let out many cheers along with the rest, but of course matt ridicules you a little in jest, "really? you sit here and 'woo' while i'm going blind?!" he’s still wiping at his eyes, dealing with the aftermath of bright lights shining in his eyes; his vision tainted with faint blue and red splotches only for a second. you lean closer to him, attempting to see his eyes better while uncontrollably laughing.

"are you crying?!"

matt thinks you look really pretty even when you're quite literally pointing and laughing in his face. you move his hands away from his face and he widens his eyes dramatically, "look, no 'm not!” you shake your head in response, “does really it look like it?"

you notice his bottom eyelashes are slightly clumped and you move your hand closer, placing your thumb under his eye, "baby, that's damp!" you giggle and pull his hand close, using your thumb to draw a wet line across his tattooed wrist to prove your point.

he drags out his first word, "alrighttt. whatever! you got me, sweet girl. ‘cause god forbid i have the ability to cry?!” pulling away from you with a smile as he dries his eyes by rubbing them gently.

matt excuses himself with a quick "gonna go grab another drink or somethin'" before he does something irrational like kiss you in front of all these fucking people.

౨ৎ

you carefully open each of the packaged cakes, each revealing the boys' full names written in cursive with the uniquely styled and colored buttercream frosting you made that very morning. you used the same shades to make the puffed frosting border of the cakes, for an easy, soft garnish. remi follows behind you, lighting candles on the cakes as you go.

there's a chaos that comes with trying to gather this many (drunk) people in one area and capture their attention long enough to sing then cut cakes. it doesn’t help that the hosts are at their most unserious themselves; matt and nick both snickering and making jokes while holding onto each other while chris talks to one of his friends off to the side with his obnoxiously loud voice without regard for anyone around him.

“okay, people we’re singing!” nathan attempts to yell over the loudness of the crowded room. you and remi are then in the position of getting the attention of the birthday boys who can’t focus on the task at hand, leaving you both to snap your fingers and call them as if you were attempting to take photos of a stubborn baby.

you truly wish it didn’t irk you so terribly but you can’t help your annoyance when matt looks over to erin after she shouts from next to you, “matt, can you pay attention? your cake’s ready,” and he listens, moving nick off of him with a shoulder nudge and laugh as he approaches the row of cakes.

you recover quickly with a smile once both matt and nick’s eyes widen and mouths hang open in awe of your hard work, “s’perfect,” matt whispers to himself, now adjusting his hat to fit backwards.

“oh my god, the wax got in my cake! what the fuck,” nick whines and that cues drea to tug chris’ arm softly and urge him with a hushed, “chris ven aquí (come here)!”

and he's is down so terribly that he moves to where she wants him immediately.

chris is a known sap, especially when wasted, so he’s stood fighting the urge to cry when taking in the scene in front of him: his brothers and friends gathered together to celebrate their twenty three years of life together.

he tucks his lip into his mouth and looks down at the burning flame, slowly smiling when everyone around them begin to sing a rendition of happy birthday with all the charmingly bad high notes and run on “you”s but not forgetting to crunch all three names into a single line.

midway through the song, chris leans to hug matt in comfort while sneaking a reach into matt’s back pocket to grab the slim joint he just knew would be there. he grins to himself, “sweet! free j and free light,” placing it into his mouth as he leans over his cake to spark the joint hanging in his mouth with as much precision as possible. andrea shakes her head in confusion while filming on her phone beside to you.

“dude,” matt lets out a breathy laugh while waving his hand to clear the atmosphere of the potent smoke. sudden applause recognizing the end of the song and leading the three to blow out their candles.

matt gave up on birthday wishes a while into his teen years and nothing changes this year; he blows his candles out and claps along with the crowd before accepting his joint from chris for a few puffs of celebration.

you watch in amusement as nathan distracts the boys with shots to get them away from the cakes as andrea begins to cut. except no shot could beat the view of andrea bent over the counter like she is now, so chris is practically on top of drea with annoying whines of “i wanna see,” when she asks him to be careful and wait a second.

you, however, are actively searching for the spiked punch that elijah recommended when you run into erin and matt talking. they both look to you with different expressions as you squeeze yourself by them to get to the punch bowl.

you remind yourself that erin is your friend, not your enemy. nor your competition. meaning you also have to remind yourself that matt is some guy you fuck around with, not your boyfriend.

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in while grabbing a plastic cup and using a small ladle to pour the peach colored liquid for yourself. instead of flat-out staring at the two, you take turns looking from them to your cup. you watch as they pose for a picture; erin taking his hat to place on her own head and matt smiling next to her. and another with her kissing his cheek as he laughs.

it’s upsetting- no, humiliating to you. and how especially humiliating that your first thought is whether he’ll dismiss you for erin when you ask him to fuck you later tonight? you blame the weed for getting you so worked up over minutiae interactions.

you’re brought out of your daze in the most humbling of ways: a sudden splash hits your bare foot and covers your black kitten heels in the sticky juice. “fuck,” you groan and place the ladle back into the punch bowl, taking a large sip of your overflowing drink as you look down at the puddle of pink you’re standing in.

you find a towel laying nearby and lower yourself to fumble and wipe your shoe.

“damn y/n, you like my punch that much?” a voice asks from next to you.

you look up and see lucas smiling down at you, “you made it?” you ask genuinely as he helps you rise to standing again.

“no,” he smiles and you roll your eyes, “but im wondering how you managed to spill any with this itty bitty fucking ladle?” he jokes, lifting the ladle and watching it pour the small bit of juice it managed to gather back into the bowl.

“i just wasn’t paying attention,” you laugh and sip your drink again.

“mhm…why’s that?” he squints his eyes down at you.

you tap two of your french tip fingernails against your skull, “so much is happening up here.”

“like what?”

“i don’t knowww,” you smirk and look away to take another sip of your drink.

“well, i know you look sexy as fuck in this dress right now. look at you,” he wets his lips and offers his hand to you with a grin, showing off a few of his shining tooth gems.

you try to maintain your composure and not smile too big but it’s a challenge when he playfully gets you to spin slowly for him and show off the tiny strapless dress you have on as he “oouu”s and whistles to hype you up.

“mm, you like that?” you look up at him, blinking slowly.

he nods and chuckles, “you know damn well-” looking off to the side then gaining your eye contact once more as he wipes over his mouth with his hand, glancing over your body, “‘course i do.”

"good. we should dance then," you guide him to the living room with his hand still in yours.

౨ৎ

you hate to be the bitch on her phone at a party but you can’t stop staring at it. you tap past the story then go back to look again. you even rewatch it in the perspective of someone who hadn’t been there to see the photo taken to see how it would be perceived. hurting your own feelings knowing they could very well assume matt to be erin’s boyfriend with how close they’re standing and her lips against his face.

it’s very dizzying and ruining your high quite a bit, especially paired with andrea who continues to look to you to celebrate after every ping pong ball she throws whether she makes it or not.

you go to rewatch the story once more, only this time a text from matt slides down on your screen to interrupt your sulking:

MATT

Hey come here

Y/N

where???

MATT

Outside youll see me

you let andrea know you’re going outside for air before walking over to a glass sliding door to let yourself out.

you see matt holding a stick while looking down at his phone, fire pit radiating next to him, a mass of people surrounding it.

your arms wrap and hold onto your shoulders as you walk closer, feeling the breeze rack through your body despite the internal heat from the many drinks you've had over the course of the night.

as you approach, asha gets up from her spot on nick's lap to give you a hug, "y/n! hiii." she pulls away and her hands remain on your shoulders, "your cake was so delicious, i tried a bite of each."

"oh good, 'm glad." you smile.

she feels your hands, "are you cold, babe? come sit." she guides you over to the group of people sat around the fire. "you can take my spot, i'll stand," she insists and nick agrees smiling kindly.

you interrupt matt's texting to figure out why he wanted you here, cupping your hands to shout, "matt!" across the lawn from your spot atop nick.

he looks over and quips his head while moving closer, "hey, was just wonderin' if you'd try my s'more? nick thinks he makes them best." he smiles but you can't help but feel that there's a catch to this.

"always gotta prove someone wrong. yeah, i'll do it." you agree as he moves to grab the snack he'd apparently already prepared.

nick mutters, "don't let him bully you into liking his, and don't forget who's acting as your chair currently!" from behind you as you giggle into the bite that matt gives you, holding the smore in his hand up to your mouth.

you chew slowly and matt watches, chatter and crinkles of the fire filling the heated space. you finally nod your head and matt smirks, "so good, right?" matt asks and brings his hand to hold your face and wipe around the corner of your mouth, looking to his right with a smile then back to you.

you feel awkwardly and unnaturally sensual, moving his hand away from your face and searching for what he's looked over to, catching the eye of lucas, standing with a group of guys lighting up near a fence. so that is the fucking catch.

you lick your lips of any remaining marshmallow and shake your head, annoyed, "i don't know, it tastes normal and graham cracker is fucking stale." you look up at him and his face is adorned with confusion on your change of heart.

you feel too fucking weird about this. you wish you couldn't believe that he'd use your feelings towards him for some weird shit like claiming you from lucas, but it's not surprising in the slightest; matt wants his cake yet he'll always want to eat it too.

"yeah, nick wins." you pat the side of nick's thigh to grab his attention and tell him the news, making him cheer and bring you into his chest for a small hug.

matt's lips form the smallest pucker as he watches you get up and walk towards the house without further conversation.

"bye, y/n!" asha yells.

౨ৎ

matt lays flat on his bed, staring up at the ceiling to try and organize his many thoughts when his door creaks slightly, allowing a roar of party chatter into his space before it shuts again.

he lifts only his head up to see erin stood with a small smile before letting himself fall back into his plush comforter, "hey, i got your shit in the first drawer over there." he points to a tall dresser across the room.

he listens to her shuffle around before finding a large bag of weed, coming close to him and placing a few folded bills in his front pocket slowly. she then moves so that she hovers over his dazed face, "thank you, are you sure you don't need anything else from me? it is your birthday..." she grins and runs a hand over his chest. he mimics her smile (intended in more of a mocking way than she takes it) and laughs softly.

"no, i'm good on that, e. you enjoy your doobies and shit," he continues to softly laugh, eyes crinkling at the sides before she thanks him again and gives him a small peck.

"happy birthday, matty!" she sings before closing the door to his room and heading straight to his bathroom next door to pee.

matt would say it hasn't even been four minutes since erin left him when you're stumbling into his room. he repeats his look up, only to soften a bit when he sees you make effort to move some of his shoes out of the walkway so that you don't trip, "hi, baby" he waves you over with his fingers and welcomes you as if you'll be staying for long, "lock that door for me." he figures if you came to see him after storming away like that at the fire pit you're either gonna spit your thoughts in his face or sit on his face, there's no in between.

"i found you," you smile and twist the smaller knob to lock the door from the rowdiness. you then make your way over to sit at the end of his bed and begin to fiddle with the straps on your tiny heels, "my feet have been achin' so bad," you look at him as you complain.

"mm, i'm sure."

when your feet are finally free from your shoes you place them on the ground and adjust yourself on the bed. you silently grimace seeing matt with his shoes remaining on his feet despite being on his bed.

he giggles when you begin to unlace them, "feel like a fuckin' princess."

you roll your eyes and begin to pull them off, "with the way you act you might as well be one."

"ouch? it's my birthday," he holds his heart while looking to you playfully.

you tilt your head and drop his second shoe right on the floor as you stare back at him, "oh, i know."

"right. what's wrong now?"

you run your hands along his legs as you inch up his body and hover yourself over his crotch, "nothing. everything's fine, right?" you adjust your hair away from your face.

"sure, uh huh," matt looks up at you and bites his lower lip while moving his hands to hold and squeeze your full thighs. he silently admires the way you fill that tiny dress and look down at him from this angle.

you look away for a moment then decide to put your full weight onto matt, muffled groan leaving his mouth. your lips curve up as you pull his bottom lip from his mouth with your thumb to replace it with your mouth, sucking and kissing it. your tongue runs over his lips a few times before matt takes hold of your head and pulls you impossibly closer to capture your mouth messily with his own.

the kiss is a filthy, drunken sight: noses meshing and colliding, tongues playing and licking, and moans escaping and ringing into the air desperately.

you pull away with a wet smack and whisper into his lips, "i've got another present for you..."

"mmm?" his eyes widen and he squeezes your neck gently, kissing you once more, "for real? like, more than this?!" his hand feathers over your ass, insinuating the way you're sat on top of him right now could easily be his best gift tonight.

"yes," you breathe then begin to giggle, "you're gonna lose your shit, i think."

his mind can think of a lot of things you could do to make him lose his shit, "damn, okay. well, show me. you got my stomach dancin' and shit." he holds you so that you stay put as he lifts himself to rest on his elbows.

your smile bites over your bottom lip now as you raise yourself from his lap once more. your nail taps against your upper thigh as you look down at him, "kiss, please?"

he doesn't have to move much, as your leg is already so close to his face. he keeps heated eye contact with you when he kisses and marks the skin you'd point to, causing small mindless noises to fall from your mouth as you play with his soft hair (that you unfortunately hadn't seen much of tonight).

when he's finished he looks up to you with his red, puffy eyes and wet lips as you thank him, "now...pay attention." you gently demand as you slowly move your dress up your body.

matt studies your movement in awe, eventually catching your gift in his line of sight. he knows you must think you're so sneaky when you only show a glimmer of your lacy white panties, with a cursive red "M" embroidered near the waistband, before quickly pushing your dress back down with an uncontrollable laugh.

matt's face morphs to express a million different emotions and he doesn't realize how loud his voice is when he speaks, "what the fuck?!" he looks up at you- with your head thrown back laughing -then back to your covered lower half. "what was that? hold the fuck on," you body is so loose with laughter that he easily grabs you and flips you onto the bed so that you lay underneath him, still squirming in your own giggles (yelling a few "matt!"s or "matt wait i can't breathe!"s).

his face is full of amusement when he firmly lifts your dress to get a better look at what you've done for him. "oh my god, 'm gonna pass the fuck out. look at you, sunny!" he rubs his eyes dramatically and shakes his head. "no, you're so bad."

"you like it?" you ask, licking over your lips and reaching your hands up to trace the small hairs prickling on matt's jawline.

"course i do, the fuck type of question is that?!" he turns his face to kiss your inner palm before bending closer to kiss your lips once more.

"happy birthday, matt." you say in between kisses, "there's somethin' else if you look a little more."

"really?" he immediately splits from you and looks to your panties once more, running his hands over your lower stomach. the cherry red joint laying against your hip and tucked into your underwear catches him by surprise but the stoner in him nearly cums on the spot.

he removes it from it's place and kisses you mumbling a reminder that "you're so hot" and "the marijuana bug must've bit you real bad" before he gets up to store it in his bedside table, patting the closed drawer and joking, "for when i miss you."

he stands above you for an extra second to shake his head slowly with a tut, but when you whine "c'mereee," he's hushing you and removing his shirt before crawling back on top of you.

your hands run across every inch of his warm torso as you both sloppily kiss, and matt's own hands curiously make their way into your underwear for a proper feel of your wet core.

he allows you to desperately grind your hips against his hand until he eventually decides he needs to taste you. he lowers himself to face your clothed pussy, tracing the "M" with a finger as he places his tongue flat against you and places pressure on your most sensitive area.

his finger once tracing, now moves to pull the tiny piece of fabric off of you. he looks into your eyes as he easily stuffs the cloth in his back pocket, mumbling "mine now" while moving his fingers through your sticky folds.

you cry out when he dips two fingers into you teasingly, over and over again, and another series of moans leaves your mouth when he begins to lick over your clit eagerly.

matt continues his efforts, spitting on your clit a few times to watch it drip down to where his fingers harshly move inside of you; his movements quickening while he watches.

and just before you cum you dumbly warn him, which makes him stop entirely. "no, matt. stop, please come back. please."

"shhh. don't start that shit, you'll cum twice on your day..." he unbuttons his pants, "plus, you know it feels so much better when you wait and have to chase it a few times." he smirks and nudges your clit with his finger once more making you breathe out a moan and close your legs around his hand.

he pulls away from you to finish undressing before laying back dowm in his tight boxers, "come take care of me, sunny. i need you."

"hm...and i needed you too..." you lift yourself up and pout as you climb off the bed and get closer to where he lies, turning and moving your hair away for your back, "unzip me, please?"

he does just as you say and watches you finish removing your dress in only one movement. when you climb on top of him he now gets a view of your tits directly in his face that has him humming and immediately feeling you up.

he kisses and licks the skin while you scratch at his scalp in the most sensual way. you reach behind you to dip your hand into his boxers, immediately coming in contact with his sensitive and slightly sticky tip. he tilts his head back with a groan as soon as you begin to stroke him beneath the fabric making a sinical smile form on your face.

you push the boxers further down his thighs to fully expose him as you bring your lips down to him again. his moans flow into your mouth when you repeatedly rush your movements then slowly circle his head.

eventually matt's eyebrows pinch in terribly tight and he grabs your hand, sighing, "god damn, baby. chill or i'll be cummin' before i'm inside you."

you roll your eyes playfully, "okay?" as you adjust yourself to align over his length, before sinking down on top of him.

"mmm, fuck." he encourages when you lift yourself and slam back down on top of him. you move his hands to hold your hips then spread your hands over his chest as you continue.

matt can't help but slap your ass a few times after discovering the way your muscles flutter around him so perfectly each time. but one smack in particular aids you to practically fall onto his chest whining, "matt i can't, please just-."

he immediately lifts your face to give him a much needed kiss before reaching to realign himself and hold onto you as he thrusts rhythmically into you.

moans sneak from your mouth and interrupt you from kissing and holding onto matt's neck, which only encourage matt until he's completely flustered and drilling into you sloppily.

matt can tell you're cumming by your all too and familiar broken moans. and once you harshly kiss him and ask him to let go in return he finally stills inside of you and groans into your soft shoulder.

a silence coats the room, leaving the overpowering music and talking of the party to linger through the air in a cloudy murmur.

matt keeps his arms around you while you recover from your high, staring at the ceiling of his faintly lit room in questionable thought.

and he assumes you must be doing the same; only he mistakes the wetness of your tears for his own sweat as you turn your head away from him to dissolve your embarrassingly shaky breaths.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

tag list is in the replies ily!!!!

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beanzwrites · 2 years ago

Text

Late Night

Dean X Sister! reader X Sam

Description: The youngest Winchester takes care of her brothers after a hunt gone wrong.

Warning: Drinking, mentions of blood

.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

Dry mud cakes off Dean's boots as he stumbles inside the motel with his siblings. The atmosphere was tense and none of them could even smile to make things better. Sam slouches over himself as he examines the wound in his leg. A hiss comes from his throat as his fingers graze over the tender flesh.

(Y/n) gently places her hand on his arm for comfort. "Let me get you a wet rag and a first aid kit," she coos softly. She walks over to the end of the bed to grab a fresh cloth from her duffle bag. She carries on to the bathroom and finds Dean sitting on top of the marble counter.

He moves his feet slightly so she can access the sink. As she runs the water over the small towel, she notices a beer bottle in between Dean's thighs. "Don't you think it's too late to be drinking," she asks cooly before ringing out the rag. Dean huffs in response and takes a swig of it.

(Y/n) lowers to her knees to reach inside the cabinet. She takes out a decent sized medical box and sets it on the bathroom surface. Taking out a bandage and ointment, she casually lifts her hand to Dean. "I'm not going to pretend that I didn't see your arm bleeding. Give it here."

"I'm fine, go help Sammy," Dean slurs.

"Please."

Eventually, Dean gives in to his sister's soft nature. He rolls up his flannel sleeve to reveal a large cut oozing down his arm. It didn't look deep, but it looked like it hurt like hell.

"I'm going to have to get another rag- do you know what caused this?" (Y/n) questions.

"I ran into a saw blade when we were in the barn," Dean replies.

"Did you check to see if it was rusty?"

"It wasn't."

"Good. No tetanus shot for you today." A ghost of a smile etches on her lips. She places the rag on the wound, making sure to cover the whole infected area. "Clean that up for me, I'm going to get another rag."

Sam managed to get himself out of his dirty blue jeans and into some boxer shorts. His back presses against the headboard of the bed with his legs relaxed out in front of him. "Sorry Sam, I was just making sure Dean took care of his wound. Are you alright?" (Y/n) asks sweetly.

"Yeah. I feel better now that something isn't rubbing against it," Sam sighs out.

"Good. I'll be with you in a moment."

Dean was in the process of trying to wrap the gauze around his arm when (Y/n) made it back to the bathroom. His hands were shaky as he did so and he had to place his feet on the cool tile floor. " Did you put the ointment on?" (Y/n) asks.

"What do you take me for," Dean replies.

"Here. Let me help you," (Y/n) instructs as she takes the bandaging. "Hold out your arm." Soon enough, Dean's arm was securely wrapped. "Is that too tight?"

"Nah, it's fine."

"Great, now clean yourself up. You smell like cow manure. I'm going to help Sammy."

---

"That burns," Sam cries out, biting his lip harshly.

"I'm sorry, but it's the only thing that we have right now- stop that!" (Y/n) barks. Sam quickly lets go of his lip with a scowl. "I'm almost done, just a few more layers."

"I don't know how when we just went out for a supply run a few weeks ago- Charlotte's town sound familiar to you?" Sam retorts with a snap.

"Does watching out for Vermin teeth sound familiar to you?" They glare harshly at each other before smiles crack through their faces. "I'm just going to move your leg a little bit to wrap it, okay? Try not to tense too much," (Y/n) says with a giggle.

Carefully, Sam is allowed to rest his newly swaddled leg. A relieved sigh carries out of Sam's mouth before he glimpses over to his sister. He notices the way her frazzled hair carries across her shoulders messily. A few bruises and scrapes are scattered across her delicate skin. "What you did was very dangerous," He announces after a while.

"I know," (Y/n) acknowledges quietly. "If I didn't do what I did though, we might have had to amputate your leg- I don't think you want that."

"I don't know what we'd do without you," Sam chuckles.

"We would bleed out," Dean's voice conveys from the bathroom doorway.

"What happened to your bottle?" (Y/n) queres.

"It's too late to drink, especially with a kid around."

"Yeah, Sam doesn't really need that right now."

"Are you calling me a child?" Sam interrogates.

"Can I call you both children?" (Y/n) says playfully.

"I'm not a child," Dean retorts in offense.

"I had to help two grown men clean and wrap their wounds because they didn't want to do it themselves," (Y/n) explains with a proud smirk. Both went silent with their argument.

"Toshee," Dean remarks.

"You guys want to watch a movie?" (Y/n) asks, changing the subject. "I like to think we have the right to mellow out for a while."

"I'm down, as long as it isn't thriller. I think we've had enough action for tonight," Sam replies, eyeing his leg.

"Agreed."

#dean winchester x sister reader #supernatural x reader #sam winchester x sister reader #supernatural x sister! reader #fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean x reader x sam #platonic reader #sister reader #fluff

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angelliicc · 6 months ago

Text

rush

“nine to nine, you're on my mind all day

you're my world and my sweet escape”

masterlist

a/n: HI GUYS! editor ❌ writer ✅ no fic coming tomorrow or thursday :( sorry. also i almost fell asleep writing this but i drank celsius lol, enjoy!!

warnings: not proofread, fluff, tension

| your phone buzzed with a notification. your phone had been quite dry, but whenever you get a notification you answer it immediately. it was from instagram.

message request from: ellie 💫 accept it?

“hm, whos this?” you thought. no person had dmed you out of the blue before. only close friends and family. “sure, why not?”

after accepting the request, you see the message she left for you.

“hey :)”

you respond back. “hiii”

e: “i dmed you because i saw we have a lot of interests in common, hope you dont mind.”

you needed new mutuals to talk about the same shit you liked, only a handful of people at your school, but they were mostly older.

r: “oh dont worry, i dont mind. so you like the same things as me mostly?”

e: “unless there’s something i dont know about, than yes”

“shes kinda funny” you thought.

r: “lol, i like music, clothes, painting, shopping, sports, all that shit.”

e: “i like sports also, what do you watch?”

r: “basketball, loved it since i was 5”

e: “damn thats for a long ass time. i tried it but its ehh not for me.”

r: “well what do you watch or play?”

e: “soccer, i play and watch.”

r: “nicee. i want to play soccer, but i don’t know how to play lol.”

e: “maybe i can teach you one day.”

shes bold, but you had no complaints about it.

you saw in her bio, she lived in the same area as you. you decided to ask her if you’d like to meet up and get some coffee. you had nothing to do this weekend and wanted to get out of the house anyway.

r: “hey, i saw you’re in the bay? you mind if you wanna get coffee and chat? get to know each other more?”

you pressed send before even thinking twice. “fuck fuck fuck why did i do that? she must think im so annoy-“ until you felt a buzz.

e: “sure, id like that.”

a smile grew on your face.

the next morning you woke up, went to the bathroom to do your 5 step skin care routine. while waiting for your skin to dry, you decided to pick out an outfit. the weather was partly cloudy, so you picked out a pink sweater, a white tank top, and some jeans. you changed, then applied your makeup, making sure everything was going perfect. you did your eyeshadow a baby pink color, with some glitter on the center of your eyelids.

the cafe was around 5 minutes away from your house, so you decided to walk. it was a good dose of vitamin D, and you needed some fresh air.

when you get there, you see her sitting in a chair. she has auburn hair in a mullet, green eyes and freckles on her face. she was wearing sweats, a compression shirt with a button-up short sleeve shirt on top.

you smiled as you sat down, placing your tote bag down. “hi!”

“hey, you look nice.” she replied. the comment caught you off guard, making you immediately flustered.

“thank you.” you said back “you look nice too. wanna order anything? its on me don’t worry.”

“nono i got it, thank you for the offer.” you and ellie went up to the counter placing your orders. ellie ordered an iced americano with a marble cake. you weren’t really hungry, so you just ordered a matcha.

you both sat down at the table and started talking. you both talked like it was your last day on earth. you told each other your personal lives, schooling, etc.

you both talked so much that you guys lost track of time. before you knew it, the sun was starting to set. “wanna see the sunset? lets see if it has pretty colors today.” she asked.

“yess, i love sunsets.” you said. you got your bag, and headed out the door with her. you decided to walk to the local park and watch the sunset.

you both sat down on the grass, enjoying the view. a random wave of drowsiness hit you. before you knew it, your head was on ellies shoulder and you were out like a light.

15 minutes later you wake up from her shoulder, still at the park. the sun had fully set, and you realized what had happened.

“im so sorry, i didn’t mean to.” you said.

“dont worry, i kinda enjoyed it actually.” ellie replied back, soothing your worries.

“yup, shes still bold.” you thought. “this was fun ellie. im gonna head home now, we should do this again sometime.” you told her enthusiastically.

“me too, this was very nice. see you again sometime soon.” she replied.

before you went to bed, you got another message from her.

“goodnight.” ellie said

“goodnight.” you replied back

the next morning, you were bombarded with texts. and you liked it.

for the next 3 days, you both were talking from sun up to sun down, never getting bored. you noticed ellie was being bold and flirting with you. “two can play that game.” you thought to yourself.

e: “i missed you these past couple of days.”

r: “oh really? how bad did you miss me.”

e: “i missed you so much i couldnt stop thinking about you. you’re so beautiful.”

r: “you really have a way with words, yk that right?”

e: “maybe.”

r: “since when are you the flirty type?”

e: “ive always been. why? too much to handle?”

r: “no, i like it. its cute from you.”

e: “when you slept on my shoulder by accident the other day, you had me nervous. in a good way. i wish you just stayed there forever”

r: “its just my touch i have on people. if you miss me so much come over.”

e: “omw.”

10 minutes later, the doorbell rang. you felt a rush of excitement.

you answered the doorbell, seeing her leaning on the doorframe. “did you fly down the highway?” you asked sarcastically. “thats only something i know.” she replied

you both went to your bedroom. it was pink with green vines and fairy lights. cds and posters spread according to match the aesthetic.

you sat on the floor, and ellie sat down on your bed, lying down to your plushies then eventually getting up.

“you’re the only thing ive been thinking about lately.” she started

“is that so? do i make you feel special?” you respond

“i wont lie, you kinda do. everything about you. i love all of it. your eyes, your hair, your style.” she spoke, all saying this while running her fingers through your hair. you felt like you falling, your heart was racing and your stomach was doing flips.

you got up off the floor and sat on the bed. she placed her hand on your knee and started doing circles with her thumbs, letting you get tingles all over your body. you both look at each other, and didnt break eye contact. you were getting nervous, so you started blushing and immediately turned away in embarrassment. “hey!” she said in a playful tone. you both eventually held hands while looking at each others eyes.

“no ones made me feel like this before” you told her.

“good, then let me be the first.” she spoke.

when you looked down she touched your face and kissed your cheek. you felt satisfied, and your whole face felt red. her soft kisses on your skin felt so relaxing. the feelings you both have kept hidden from the moment you say each other were about to become transparent.

the tension between you both was louder than any words ever spoken before. you both looked at each others lips, and started kissing, becoming drunk in each other. her taste of love was so special and sweet. so sweet that it made you dizzy. you felt like a spell was casted upon the both of you, like you could stay up all night, and never be tired. love felt so easy in that moment, and it made you want more of her. you both couldn’t get enough of each other, wanting to feel each others rush.

the touch of each other made it seemed like it lasted forever. she pulled away from your lips.

“can i be your girlfriend?” she asked you.

fuck, she did have a way of her words. the words themselves can make you levitate from the thoughts of her.

“you dont know how long ive been waiting for that question.” you told her. “absolutely.”

just as you were running out of love, you found the person you needed the most.

hours and hours what do I do now? baby

with no clue, i need you quickly

i need to feel your rush, drive me crazy and I know

i just can't get enough.

#ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x you #ellie williams tlou #ellie willaims #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #twice #with youth #rush twice

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littlejuicebox · 1 year ago

Text

Midwinter Carol 9 / The Snake

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Elf Sorceress OC

Word Count: 2.7K

Story navigation: [1][2][3][4] [5] [6] [7]

Summary/Setting: Based on the prologue/premise from my OneShot “A Midwinter Carol.” / Astarion and the OC broke up after his ascension. She left Baldur’s Gate for fifteen years, only to return just recently. Following the events of “A Midwinter Carol,” Ascended Astarion has been convinced to pursue a new beginning. Will he be able to change who he has become, with the help of his ex-lover or will he ultimately fall victim to himself?

Preview:

He’s covered in the evidence of his wrongdoings. Hells, he can’t speak to Ani like this, with blood literally on his hands, drenched in the crimson color of all his past mistakes.

Warnings: This will be 18+ / in game spoilers / Eventual Smut / Angst, trauma, fluff / Gore / Violence / PTSD / Astarion’s past trauma

-----

Astarion’s pulse begins to thrum in his ears the moment he sees Eirianwen — or rather, unknowingly sees Delilah, shapeshifted into the appearance of Eirianwen — dart from view, away from the doorframe. His hands and face are caked in slowly drying, scarlet smears of the now-dead Edmund’s blood, but he doesn’t notice. He leaves the partially decapitated head of the foreign spawn, its skull smashed in and ichor spilling out, abandoned on the office floor with the rest of the corpse.

The immortal elf scrambles forward, out of the office, and desperately calls after the woman he thinks to be his beloved sorceress as she sprints down the marble-floored hallway. There is a split second when Astarion notices the woman's pause and it causes his heart to flutter in brief relief. But then she turns to look at him, and the unmistakable hatred on her visage cuts through the Ascendant like one of her ice knives. Her cold, unforgiving gaze snuffs out the final embers of hope he held in his chest.

This wasn’t the first instance Ani thought him a monster. He didn’t know what felt worse, her disappointment the first time or her hatred this second time.

His stomach drops when the woman misty steps away, toward the dungeon, and quickly retreats down into its depths. She abandons Astarion on the upper level of the Palace, his voice still echoing after her.

Another nice, simple plan burning up in flames from another loss of control. He’s left standing in the charred ashes of his own actions once again.

Astarion’s heart hammers in his chest, threatening to break through the marbled surface of his skin as he quickly considers all his options. Finally, the Vampire Lord decides that regardless of if he currently wants to face Ani or not, he has no choice. The poison may still be in her system, and if he does not follow the sorceress, the rings will not continue shielding her.

He refuses to be responsible for that, too.

With no more than a quickly barked order at his spawn to stay behind, the Ascendant morphs into a cloud of smoke and reanimates in front of the dungeon entrance. He moves to rip the door open with a bloodied, shaking hand, but then suddenly pauses, restless fingers clinging onto a cold, heavy brass knob.

Ani is going to want to leave. He knows her well enough to know this. Fifteen years later, and this feels eerily similar to the situation that had finally caused her to walk out of the Palace, never to return.

Though last time, the dead spawn had been his own. Not a foreign one.

Astarion knows he cannot react in the same manner he had back then, because it will simply drive the sorceress away. The more he tightens his grip, the faster she slips through his fingers – that was always the way with Ani. He loathed it.

He cannot afford to lose her again. He doesn’t want to lose her again.

With his hand still clutching the knob, Astarion closes his eyes, bows his head, and steels himself. He sucks in a deep breath in and holds it for a moment or two before his lungs slowly release the unneeded air. When his lids flutter open, the Ascendant notices his disastrous, intimidating reflection in the perfectly polished floor beneath him.

A madman stares back.

He’s covered in the evidence of his wrongdoings.

Hells, he can’t speak to Ani like this, with blood literally on his hands, drenched in the crimson color of all his past mistakes.

The Vampire Lord pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and hastily swipes it across his face and limbs, aiming to quickly clean himself. His fingers tremble as he works, causing his normally nimble hands to fumble, as he removes what debris he can from his flesh.

It’s not enough, but it will have to do.

He’s wasted too much time already.

With a single sharp inhale, Astarion rips the heavy dungeon door open and descends down the cobblestone steps. He unknowingly walks into the viper’s nest.

Delilah is facing the damp, stone wall of the dungeon as she prepares herself for Astarion’s entry. She knows without a doubt that he will follow her here; his obsession with Eirianwen seems to compel him far beyond what any potion or spell ever could.

When the shapeshifter hears the creak of the dungeon door, her hand instinctively wraps around the dagger. Ancient arcane magic flickers from the hilt of the God Killer, emitting a warm buzz of energy that tingles at her fingertips and electrifies her entire body with potential. The vision of Edmund’s mangled corpse won’t leave her mind; she suddenly bursts into tears.

She thinks a part of her might have actually been fantasizing about living an immortal life with Edmund. The possibility of such a future had been there, at least, until the Ascendant violently ripped that opportunity, like so many others, from her hands.

Astarion deserves to die just as violently as Edmund had. He deserves worse, but Delilah will settle for this.

“Ani…” Astarion calls as he approaches the woman, his voice a soft coo, much like someone might speak to a frightened child.

The Vampire Lord comes a few steps closer, his boots squeaking across wet stone as he moves painstakingly slowly, unsure what else to do but make his way toward Eirianwen and try, somehow, to smooth things over. He thinks perhaps he should calm her just enough that he is able to coax her back upstairs, away from this space that holds horrible memories for them both. They’d both nearly died here at one point or another; a tremor runs up Astarion’s spine as the memories assault his brain.

He needs to get Ani back upstairs, back into the space that holds far better memories of lovemaking in the bedchamber and waltzing in the great hall. Back into the space that remembers the sounds of their laughter rather than the sounds of their screams.

Eirianwen isn’t responding to him; the pitiful noise of her crying ricocheting off the walls causes his stomach to twist in knots as he inches closer. His fingers continue to tremble with nerves; he clenches them into balled fists.

“Ani, darling…” Astarion murmurs as he reaches his hand toward the woman. He thinks he might have to grovel, to convince her to come back upstairs, but the sounds of her tears have completely dissolved whatever might have remained of his pride just before he entered the dungeon.

The moment his hand brushes against hers, Delilah recoils in revulsion and then strikes in rage. She spins and sweeps the blade in an arc with an uninhibited scream, slicing into flesh, aiming for the Ascendant’s heart.. With the floodgates of wrath open, the woman is a sharp contrast to her normally calculated self and her strike is uncharacteristically haphazard. The blade pierces itself halfway into Astarion’s shoulder with a squelch, startling a yelp of shock from the elf as arcane magic snaps through his system like lightning crackling through the night sky.

The pain is intense.

“Eirianwen—” Astarion hisses, a sharp swallow of breath preventing him from saying anything further as his hands wrap around the blade’s hilt. Warm blood trickles in tendrils down his skin. He feels the woman using all her strength to fight back against him, almost as if she is wholly intent on forcing the dagger deeper into his body.

At first, the Vampire Lord thinks Eirianwen is just terrified and acting in misguided defense. But then he looks down, and his heart shatters.

She is brandishing the God Killer, he realizes, as another thrust of the blade releases a second snapping, azure ripple of arcania which severely dampens his Ascendant strength. His sweating palms lose their grip on the dagger; it slips forward, burying itself to the hilt.

Eirianwen was the only other being to know the location of the Jaithiman Dagger; they’d found it during renovations to the Palace. When it was discovered, Astarion suspected the weapon was what Cazador had accused him of stealing years ago. Someone had been smart enough to hide it from his predecessor… it just hadn’t been Astarion; he hadn’t even known it existed back then.

But that meant Eirianwen came to the dungeon and grabbed the blade intentionally. She planned this. This wasn’t simply a rushed act of fear, this was murderous intent.

She wants him dead.

The Ascendant's eyes widen in terror as he realizes he’s watched a similar scene play out before, the night that Gale, Faerun’s newest god, showed him a vision of his own future.

But no, this couldn’t be happening, could it? He’d done differently, he’d chosen differently— he’d tried to talk to Ani, ask her for help—

No, no, no.

There is still time, he can still fix this.

Astarion rapidly steps backwards, both increasing his distance from the woman and swiftly removing the blade from his own chest. The trickle of blood from the wound turns into a river running down his doublet, drenching the embroidered finery in crimson. He immediately raises both shaking hands and splays the fingers apart with sweaty, open palms facing the woman in a sign of truce.

She’s still staring at him with such cold-hearted hatred. He cannot stand it. His heart is cantering in his chest and echoing in his ears as he warily watches the woman approach.

“Ani– please, put the dagger down,” the elf begs; his voice cracks at the end, and he cannot even be bothered to try and cover the mixture of emotions causing his steely constitution to falter. In a final, desperate plea, he whispers, his throat suddenly dry and voice wavering on every syllable, “meleth e-guilen, just— gods, please—“

There is a minute pause in the woman’s advancement as Delilah processes the incredible idiocy of the bastard before her. Astarion thinks it is Eirianwen that just stabbed him, and yet he still called her the love of his life in their native tongue.

So much power, wasted on this spineless man, made possible only with the help of that stupid sorceress sleeping upstairs.

Gods, she loathes them both; she’ll happily send them both to hell.

Delilah screams and surges forward again, brandishing the blade as she aims to slash a line in the flesh of Astarion’s face. Let the real Eirianwen find him on the floor, his visage destroyed beyond recognition, as retribution for what he did to Edmund.

The Vampire Lord gasps and dodges just enough to narrowly outmaneuver the knife as it aims for his cheek. He isn’t quite quick enough to avoid the weapon making contact with his ear.

The searing, white-hot pain that instantly surges through Astarion’s ear is almost incomprehensible. An anguished scream is forced from the elf’s throat as he reflexively crouches and clasps his hand over the wound. His shocked mind is reeling as he tries to process what is happening.

His single source of comfort has turned to chaos.

Delilah uses Astarion’s distraction to shoot a powerful dome of thunder from her palm, sending the Vampire Lord crashing into the unforgiving stone wall, the back of his silver-haired head cracking into cobblestone. Astarion grunts as he falls to the floor, his vision blurring from the concussive force with which he hit the wall.

The elf scrambles to his feet, his body still recovering from the blast as his ears ring and blood drains from multiple wounds on his head. Everything moves in slow motion as the woman charges forward again, the dagger suspended over her head with a two-handed grip. Astarion lifts his hand to cast something against her, or perhaps strike her, but his fingers shake with effort as he tries to override his consuming desire to protect the woman that wants to kill him.

He can’t do it. His love for her will be the death of him.

If Eirianwen is truly so set on taking his life, then perhaps he is the monster he swore he would never become. If she truly hates him this much, perhaps he deserves it.

He thinks he understands; he hates himself, too.

Astarion slams his eyes shut as he waits for the blade’s impact and hopes beyond hope this horrible vision is just one of his many nightmares. He thinks he is going to have to hurt Eirianwen to stop this, and the thought alone makes him consider death, instead.

Death might be easier than this.

Astarion hears the dagger slicing through air before blood rushes into his ears again, effectively deafening him as his body prepares for further damage. But the pain never comes.

When the elf’s eyes snap open, he instantly furrows his brows in confusion. The weapon is lodged into a giant, frozen barricade as fractals of ice shoot about the room. Eirianwen is separated from him by a thick wall of ice.

When Astarion turns to search for the source of his shield, he peers through the crystalline partition and spots — gods below — Eirianwen bolting down the dungeon steps, flanked by his two spawns. A sudden wave of realization floods the Vampire Lord’s system in a blend of relief and rage. When his head snaps back to Delilah, she is already tearing the dagger from ice with a frustrated growl.

He thinks to attack Delilah, but as soon as the weapon is in hand, the shapeshifter disappears from sight. Four sets of eyes try to trace her whereabouts, but the only indication of Delilah’s path is the resounding slam of the secret exit hidden at the end of the corridor.

The two half-orc spawn move to chase after the shapeshifter, but immediately stop when Astarion barks a gruff, “Leave her; I guarantee she’s already gone.”

His hand comes to cover the wound still gaping from his shoulder as he groans and leans against the dungeon wall for support. His limbs suddenly feel like lead and his bones ache; there’s a sharp pounding in his head and warm trickles of blood leak from more places than he can count.

The real Eirianwen dispels the ice barrier with a flick of her wrist and slowly approaches the Ascendant, her eyebrows stitched together as she attempts to process what she just witnessed.

The sorceress lifts her hand to cast a healing spell, but when she finally catches sight of the blackened veins branching up her arm, she freezes. Her wide eyes flicker from her hand to Astarion’s face, silently asking him thousands of questions with a single worried look.

Astarion winces and sucks in another breath as he presses his hand harder into his own shoulder, aiming to stop the blood still dribbling from the wound. His gaze flits between Eirianwen’s honey-colored eyes, searching for any of the hatred he’d found in the duplicate pair on the shapeshifter. Something within the Ascendant calms when he doesn’t find a trace of loathing on her face. The breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in slowly escapes him.

He swallows, and his free hand comes toward the woman’s marred, blackened one. His fingers beckon her as he murmurs, “Good to see you awake. Let’s get you fed and cleaned up, Ani… and then… well, suffice to say we have quite a lot to talk about.”

Eirianwen blinks but says nothing. Her mind is working to fill in the gaps; the last thing she remembers is Astarion kneeling in front of her at the auction. And gods, she feels as if she’s terribly ill. There is a flicker of hesitation behind her eyes, but then the sorceress flexes her fingers outward and accepts the offered hand.

Astarion quickly notices the weakness in her grip, but his heart still jumps at the contact. He offers a reassuring squeeze to Ani before guiding her back toward the steps that lead up to the Palace. His thumb is clasped over hers, the digits binding the two elves together as they ascend.

The palm of his hand pressed flush against Ani’s is an exceptionally chaste form of skin upon skin, and yet the elf’s entire body feels as if it’s aflame.

Astarion is holding his breath again.

-----

Tags: @anukulee

#astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #baulders gate astarion #baulders gate 3 #astarion fic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic idea #baulders gate tav #astarion x oc #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female oc #astarion x female tav #astarion x original female character #midwinter carol #ascended astarion arc #ascended astarion #ascendedstar #ascended astarion fic

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jpegjade · 1 year ago

Text

Wedding Vibes (Spencer Fluff)

Synopsis:

reader is a wedding photographer and spencer steps in the place of her assistant photographer for the day when her assistant gets sick. spencer gets wedding fever.

Tag list:

idek but if anyone wants to join, the list is open for future fics

Trigger warnings:

none, unless you are allergic to love and cuteness

Gender:

idk if i mentioned it.

Story Below the cut!

“You’re going to be okay, right?” You asked your assistant photographer over the phone.

“Yeah! It’s just a little walking pneumonia.” They said, chuckling.

The chuckle turned into a cough and that did nothing to make you feel better about the situation. In fact, it made your nerves worse because you were thinking about the upcoming weddings you booked together.

“Hey, y/n?” Spencer walks through the front door, carrying a handful of groceries along his arms.

“Yeah, okay. Sure. Just get better, okay?” You said, getting off the phone.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were on the phone.” Spencer said, gingerly walking through the apartment.

Stepping around your gear, you watched as spencer moved through the apartment like an angel who could do no wrong. Because in your mind, he could do no wrong.

“It’s okay. I was just getting off the phone with Josh anyway.” You said, slipping the phone in your back pocket.

“You’re about to leave and meet him at the wedding, right?” Spencer said as he moved around the kitchen.

Spencer put away the milk in the fridge, something you forgot to pick up when you went to the store to grab batteries that morning. You were pacing in the living room, trying to make sure you had everything packed for the 4th time.

“Well… I’m supposed to, yes, but I might have to pick up my sister because I need a second shooter for today.” You sighed.

“What happened to that guy?” Spencer said, closing the cabinet door as he put away a few dishes you washed and left to dry.

“Josh.” You chuckle, knowing Spencer was always a little bit jealous of him. You smiled to yourself and sat on the couch.

Nothing ever happened between you and Josh. He was a guy you went to high school with and then reconnected and started photographing weddings together for the past year. It was easy to shoot with him because it wasn’t like having to watch over someone to make sure they’re doing their job right.

“Yes, what happened to him?” Spencer asked, walking over to where you were putting away your cameras on the couch.

“Walking pneumonia.” You sighed, pausing to look at him.

“I knew his cough was a little bit funny.” Spencer smiled to himself about being right but tried not to show it because Josh was still your friend.

“I’m out of a second photographer for today.” You said, groaning.

“Can I help?” Spencer said, pulling you into him for a moment.

He knew when you were stressed, you needed him to ground you so you didn’t lose all of your marbles at once. A few at a time? Sure. But he was there to make it as few as possible.

“Unless you know your way around a camera, no.” You sighed.

It took a moment for it to click in your brain before you shout up, standing up.

“Spencer, you dummy, I love you.” You said, watching his eyes scan your face in understanding.

“I didn’t say anything.” Spencer remarked.

You finished packing with a smile on your face. You figured it out and it wasn’t a bad idea. That is… If he was up for it.

“You’re going to ask me to be your assistant today, aren’t you?” Spencer finally caught on.

“You know me so well, Spence.” Finally packed, you put the bags by the door and looked at the time.

Perfect. Enough time to spend a few minutes with Spencer getting him caught up.

“Will you?” You asked, sitting next to him on the couch.

“If it means I get to eat some of the cake, sure.” Spencer smiled as he thought about all the other weddings that you brought home wedding cake and how good it was.

“I’ll get you a slice and I’ll give you my slice as bonus.” You said, a smile growing on your face at the solved problem.

—

Spencer had no clue what he was doing and it made him nervous so he did something he rarely did:

He Googled “How to be a wedding photographer.”

You took care of the driving, telling him about all of the amazing photos you want to get and how the wedding will progress. You told him about your high school connection to the couple and how this was the perfect time for him to work with you because there was no pressure. You were excited to let your high school family meet the love of your life. Then you quickly returned to how excited you were to show him how to shoot the wedding as a professional photographer.

“Do you want me to do anything special?” Spencer asked, getting distracted from finding the next article because he was so in love with how you talked about your job.

After seeing the horrors of the world, he gets to come home to you editing photos of people having their times of their lives with the loves of their lives. The most he could wish was to have those moments with you one day but he hasn’t had the courage to say it yet. every time he tried to bring it up, the intrusive thoughts returned, telling him you wouldn’t want to marry a nervous wreck like him. They didn’t even know how he was going to handle the wedding. So many people… So many germs… How had he never thought about this before. Maybe-

“I’ve dreamed about this moment so many times…” You said, bringing his curiosity back into this moment in the car as you pulled into a parking spot.

“Hmm?” Spencer said.

He always tried to hide those thoughts when they started to invade his mind but you could always tell. He knew because you would grab his hand and gently squeeze a few times to make sure he knew he wasn’t alone in his head.

“I don’t know… I see these instagram couples that are like… ‘shooting a wedding with my boyfriend today.’ And I always wanted that…” You said, smiling at him.

“Oh…” Spencer said, slightly blushing. “I’m glad I could contribute my existence to making your aspirations a reality.”

“I love you too, Spencer.” You chuckled, knowing he didn’t really know what to say.

—

The two of you went on through the wedding day, photographing the moments as you would with Spencer trying to copy some of the things he memorized on the Google searches. When he showed you images, you almost cried every time but he was always trying to figure out why. They weeren’t the most stunning images but you looked at them like you hadn’t seen anything better in your life. It was a weird feeling for him to see consistently.

It was time for the ceremony, where his instructions were to take photos throughout the ceremony of family members, guests, wedding party, things like that. He watched the reactions as the bride walked down the aisle and it hit his heart like Miley Cyrus riding the wrecking ball: He didn’t want to be the guy taking photos. He didn’t want to be the one who was in the crowd, like so many weddings before him. He didn’t want to officiate and talk about love.

He wanted to show you how much he loved you and only you. He wanted to be the one at the alter as you walked down, his eyes welling with tears while Morgan claps his hand on Spencer’s shoulder before going, “you did good, kid.”

Spencer wanted to marry you. In that moment, there was no question about it.

—

“Would you have a big guest list?” Spencer said, standing in line for dinner with you.

As wedding photographers, you always had to negotiate eating at the same time as the married couple because you needed to be ready for when they were ready. You didn’t need spencer for the reception so he was on “content duty,” which was much harder to him.

“Whut?” You said, putting a slice of salad in your mouth as soon as you sat down.

You had a tendency of scarfing down everything too quickly at the wedding so you could be ready.

“Our wedding. Would you like a big guest list?” Spencer sat down across from you at the table.

“Spencer-” You almost choked on your salad.

“I was thinking…” Spencer started, tapping his leg as people passed his chair.

It put him on edge to not be able to see everyone but he was focused on you so his world was a lot more focused.

“What if we got married? A nice venue, our friends and family, a honeymoon to follow?” Spencer was nervous because you looked confused, not excited.

“Where did this come from?” You said, sipping some of the tea.

“Meeting the bride, your friend, the groom, and everyone… How many people do you think find their soulmate? So early in life…” He was trying to make sense of this whole thing for months.

“Spencer.” You said, pulling your chair closer to him. “Are you okay?”

You put your hand on his forehead before sliding it down to his cheek.

“I love you. More than I have ever loved anyone or anything. I love you more than the stars love the light of the moon. And I never want to be without you. If you asked, I would quit my job and take wedding photos all the time.” Spencer said, still trying to assess your response.

“Spencer, what are you… Are you saying you want to spend more time with me? I can switch my schedule around, if so. I can edit at different times or…” You looked hopeful but you didn’t know how to really respond.

“I want to marry you.” Spencer said, getting drowned out by the sounds of the emcee announcing cake cutting.

“You want what?” You asked, distracted by the announcement.

“Have a wedding.” Spencer said, once again drowned out by the announcer.

You whipped your head around to the sound of chairs scooting back from the table, across the wood.

Cake cutting was the last event in the night and you were scheduled to leave right after.

“I’ll tell you in the car.” Spencer said, starting to help you pack up things up before going to the car.

—

“What were you saying?” You asked Spencer, nearly skipping to the car with all of the ideas you came up with through the car. It was exhausting but you were excited to edit them in a couple days, when you recovered.

“Do you want to get married?” He asked, putting the bags in the trunk of the car.

“Yeah, one day…” You sighed, putting in your bags before closing the trunk.

“Okay.” Spencer said, looking down at you.

“Okay?” You looked at Spencer with a puzzled look.

“Oh. Do you want to get married… To me?” Spencer said, nervous at the thought and hoping this was okay.

“Yeah… One day.” You smiled, finally catching on.

Spencer took a step back and got down on one knee.

“I don’t have a ring…” Spencer patted his pockets.

“I don’t have my nails painted or hands lotioned or anything. Take my as I am?” You asked, chuckling.

“Only if you take me home to bed, where I can hold you and think about our wedding obsessively…” Spencer took your hand in his and kissed it before standing and pulling you into one of your favorite hugs: a spencer hug.

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid

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toprecipe24 · 27 days ago

Text

🍰 Delicious Marble Cake 🍰

🛒 Ingredients 🛒

🧈 1 cup unsalted butter (softened)

🍚 1 ¾ cups granulated sugar

🥚 4 large eggs

🥛 1 cup whole milk

🌾 2 ½ cups all-purpose flour

🌟 2 ½ tsp baking powder

🧂 ½ tsp salt

🍫 ¼ cup cocoa powder

🥄 1 tsp vanilla extract

👩‍🍳 Directions 👩‍🍳

🥄 **Cream butter & sugar** – Beat butter and sugar until fluffy.

🥚 **Add eggs** – Mix in eggs one at a time.

🌾 **Combine dry ingredients** – Whisk flour, baking powder, and salt separately.

🥛 **Alternate mixing** – Add dry mix and milk to the batter, alternating.

🍫 **Create chocolate batter** – Separate ⅓ of the batter and mix with cocoa powder.

🌀 **Swirl it!** – Pour vanilla batter into a pan, then add chocolate batter and swirl with a knife.

🔥 **Bake** – Bake at 350°F (175°C) for 50–60 minutes.

⏳ **Cool & Serve** – Let cool before slicing and enjoying!

See more recipe

#cooking #cooking tips #food #recipe #easy recipes #delicious #potatoes #breakfast

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anitalenia · 2 years ago

Text

𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 ✧˖°.

⋆˙⟡♡ PAIRING ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ diamond x fem!reader x heart

⋆˚✿˖° SYNOPSIS ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑘𝑖𝑑𝑛𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟, 𝑤𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑢𝑝 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛’𝑡 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑢𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛’𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑎𝑘𝑒… 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔… ୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

⋆˙⟡♡ AUTHORS NOTE ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ I admit, this may not be my best writing but it’s not like it’s a fic so it’s okay. And this was inspired by Diamond and Heart from A Dimensional Tune, an og trilogy from way back in the day that I read many many years ago. I used to love that book and the brothers so much 😭 So there are a lot of similarities between them but the differences are also there. Enjoy !

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒊𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒑𝒖𝒇𝒇𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 a pale pink smog; sparkly and sweet like raspberry lemonade. Every breath tickled your nose and left a lingering taste of sugar in the back of your throat. It made your lips grimace and nose crinkle, lungs swell full of whipped cream. The pink fog was vague despite its opaqueness, transparent enough for you to see the pink and black checkered ceiling above you.

You exhaled slowly like you didn’t recognize your own breathing, your chest aching and your throat scratchy and dry. It smelt of birthday cake and buttercream, and you found yourself liking the tantalizing aroma despite its malignant effect. But, you supposed, that was its purpose.

Your head felt heavy, like it was stuffed with cotton candy and confetti, hanging on your shoulders like a limp piñata. Your eyes were dizzy, the room spinning like marbles around and around and making your head ache and neck stiffen. But the air, it was sickly sweet, nauseatingly so; you felt like you were spinning in a candy cloud, choking on syrup and sprinkles.

Your eyes couldn’t focus on anything, too busy spinning and blurring as you felt your head lull to the side in a pathetic attempt to move it.

You sat in a chair, you didn’t know for sure but you had to be, your arms bound behind you tight enough you could feel the burn in your forearms, the scratchy feeling of rope digging into your wrists. Despite that, you felt weightless at the same time, numb, floating in mid air surrounded by that pink fog that made your thoughts muddle together, slow and messy like a dripping honey comb. Your mind seemed full of holes, unable to finish a word or thought, in and out of it like dotted lines, a pen running out of ink on parchment.

Where were you? You heard nothing except buzzing silence, your heart pounding in your ears but yet you felt entirely too calm.

You felt like there was nothing inside of you, like you were hollow. Hollow and light, a feather drifting in the breeze, bouncing on puffy pink clouds. Nothing seemed to ground you here, here, where you were surrounded by that pink mist that dazzled in your eyes like glitter, soaked into your pores and made drool pool in your cheek. You couldn’t think, couldn’t understand your own thought, your mind clogged like bitter molasses had leaked into every crevice of your skull; you swore you could feel your blood thickening up like sweet syrup, swimming through your veins like mud.

You managed to move your head again with as much focus as you could manage, a very faint groan leaving your lips. You looked to your right, where your blurry vision saw pink clouds and checkered walls.

What was this place?

You were barely aware of your own slow wheezy breaths, your dry lips parted and cracked. Your blurry eyes stared at the wall as your senses became overwhelmed with sweetness, like you were a frozen cherry being dipped in a pot of crystallized sugar; stuck and suffocating.

Your eyes closed when it became too hard to keep them open, but not before catching the faint orange glow of a rectangle on the wall, a faint click in your ears you couldn’t help but ignore.

You heard the echoing clack of shoes on the ground, your head limply spinning to your left as you inhaled a breath of sour sweetness. Were you moving your head? Was someone here? You couldn’t tell, unable to open your eyes or mutter a sentence. You only seemed to be aware within your own consciousness that something was not right and you were not supposed to be here. You couldn’t express that though, paralyzed like a moth in tree sap.

Someone had to be here, you could hear their shoes on the ground. You couldn’t even care, mind preoccupied with the image of candy canes and sugar cubes. You almost wanted to giggle, your chest fluffy feeling and euphoric. You didn’t feel bad, didn’t feel any pain, only something close to purity that made your body feel limp and empty, like your insides had been sucked out and replaced with air, a carcass floating endlessly into the stars.

It was a weird feeling, a happy feeling, but your inner mind knew it was a sickly sweet illusion.

“My, we’ve got quite the catch, my dear brother. Wouldn’t you agree?”

A voice. A male voice. Echoey and distant like he was speaking in a hollow church, ringing in your ears as you felt a gust of air swipe on your cheek; he must have walked past you, the undertones of vanilla and black cherry wafting into your nose. You liked it. The voice seemed to be close but way too far, however, you were way too out of it to try and really think about it, mind just as hazy as the room you were trapped in.

You heard the sound of soft giggles somewhere around you; it was chaotic sounding, but also happy and giddy, twinkling around you like the melancholic song of a broken music box. You could feel your skin crawl uncomfortably at the sound of it.

“Ahh yes, brother, of course. You’ve always had such an eye for beauty, Diamond. And this one… this one is quite exquisite.”

This was a different voice, cheerier sounding than the last one. It was closer than the other, you could tell. You felt something sharp brush against your cheek, the tingle of something deadly tracing your skin and making your face itch. Your eyes cracked open very thinly before closing again, seeing the flash of a red and pink blur, or was it just the fog? You couldn’t discern the difference between anything, inhaling another breath that made your body go numb like it was being flooded with Lidocaine. It was strangely addicting, blissful and deadly like a drug. Was this even real? Was this a dream?

“Mmm, yes, I do agree, Heart. She’s much prettier than the last ones. She’ll certainly be a fun little plaything… won’t you, my dear?”

You felt warm breath brush against your cheek, something soft running over the hair on your head. It made your spine tingle in alarm and intrigue. You weren’t able to act on it though, see anything around you, your mind empty like a floating balloon as all you could do was sit there, high on the pink fumes that sparkled around you. How were they not affected, whoever they were?

You heard a manic giggle again and the sound of shoes clacking on the floor excitedly.

“Yes, yes, our plaything! Oh, Diamond, I have such a good feeling about this one. I just know she’ll be a good plaything and entertain us properly, don’t you feel it, dear brother?”

Plaything? You? Brother? Diamond? Heart? Was that there names?

You were only catching bits and pieces of their confusing conversation, but it just raised more questions within you.

“Yes, Heart, I agree. Have patience though, brother. We must wait a little longer for our dear lady to wake.”

You couldn’t see, you weren’t even aware, but poor Heart pouted at his older brother, disappointed at that.

You felt something, a hand, caress your cheek like you were a fragile doll in a case, like you’d shatter to dust under his knuckles. His voice was soft when he spoke, levelheaded and almost condescending.

“Silly Heart, it seems you overdid the sugar bomb again. You always have such a bad habit of that, im afraid.”

“I do apologize for that, dear brother. A mistake if I’ve ever made one. But you know how difficult it is for me to control myself around such pretty things…”

You felt that same sharp feeling run down the plushness of your lips, like a knife caressing your skin. But the texture was soft and silky, possibly a glove.

“I just cant wait to play with her, Diamond, see how sweet her blood tastes on my tongue…”

His gloved hand ran down your jaw, slowly to your collarbone, his claws tickling your skin in its path until you felt it’s warmth leave your cold skin. You wanted to care but you couldn’t, desperately stuck in the effects of this pink smoke.

You heard a deep, happily malevolent chuckle.

“As I’ve said, patience, my dear brother. I assure you once our dear lady awakens we will have our playtime. For now, let us sip tea in the lounge as we wait.”

“Agreed, brother.”

You heard the sound of shoes clacking away from you, distant and echoey as another wave of sweet drowsiness flooded your marrow following a soft inhale.

You heard a click, yellow light washing over your closed eyes all of a sudden.

“After you, Diamond, I insist.”

“Why thank you, Heart.”

You heard a pair of footsteps leave the room, farther and farther until it was silence.

“Farewell for now, my dear lady. Oh, how I can’t wait…”

A giggle sounded once more, stuck and bouncing in your ears like a fly under a glass as you heard a footstep then another click, then nothing at all once more.

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ehlnofay · 7 months ago

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Summerfest Day 7 - COMPANION

The hotel’s dining room is reminiscent of the restaurants Caelestis remembers eating at when ze was younger, on the rare occasions zir mother coaxed zem out of the house. The smooth gleam of the floors, the crackling glow of the hearth; even the weave of the napkins, the buffed edges of the tabletop, the candle in its little dyed-glass holder.

It makes Caelestis think of the stained glass in the walls of the temples; which is strange, because ze’d never been an avid temple-goer, and it’s been years since ze’s seen one. They don’t have the grand windows in the sporadic shrines in Morrowind; they are much smaller, most of the time, more self-contained, as if whoever designed the buildings – or, it almost felt, the buildings themselves – knew how oddly placed they were, soft little sacrariums dedicated to foreign gods. Most of them were never very busy. Caelestis understands why, ze thinks; ze’s never fully grasped the appeal of a religiously lived life, constant thought for beings so eternally far away. Gods that walk, two feet on the ground with the rest of them, have much more allure.

(Vivec always used to float, cross-legged, above his own shrine. Sotha Sil didn’t even have legs.)

It’s very nice, the setup of the tables, the art on the walls, the stained candle-cups and marbled glass of the windows and the quiet chatter of the room all around, the clinking of plates and cutlery, the gorgeous smell of food now more nostalgic than familiar. A jug of wine sits on the table before zem, untouched; the food is still steaming. Zir companion picks up a spoon to prod their dish with.

“You told me,” he says gravely, “that the cuisine of Cyrodiil had fewer insects.”

The prawns, spattered with sauce and spices, their antennae curled and lifeless eyes gleaming, do look remarkably buglike.

“Fewer,” Caelestis says, “not none.” A pause; ze looks down at zir own dish of egg and carefully lined up squid cakes. It’s unfamiliar enough now that ze needs to prepare zirself to try it. “Besides, they’re crustaceans, not insects.”

“A paltry difference,” he replies, with a flick of the spoon, and he cleaves the boiled-soft head off with its edge.

It’s strange, to be in a place like this again; so different to the places ze can easily afford in Morrowind, and the luxuries ze’s grown accustomed to. It’s strange to be in a public house at all, really, sitting over a meal ze does not need, opposite a stranger’s face; but they are practising, the pair of them. Play-acting at normalcy in a place that gives them some little leeway. Caelestis’ clothes aren’t at all the fashions worn by anyone else at any other table in the hall; zir skin, dry and mottled, is free of any visible scars or tattoos, cheeks plump and uneven with soft flesh taken from the inside of zir thigh. Zir hair lacks its shaved sides, long and dark and twined into an elaborate twisting shape reaching down the back of zir neck. (That’s the strangest change, honestly, and one ze hasn’t attempted before; ze’s left the barely-visible seams to make it easier to find where the join comes in, and stored zir real scalp, its hair shaved almost to the skin, in the leather folds of zir kit.) Zir companion, a bug-eyed Dunmer with temperamental hair and glisteringly new clothes, seems more at home in the change of scenery than ze is. With every flourish of hir cutlery, the firelight catches on the blood-red ring on hir middle finger.

(Caelestis still can’t look at it without grimacing; but maybe that’s for the best. Ze’s trying to get better at controlling zir facial expressions anyway.)

“I am curious,” says the traveller-who-is-not-Vivec to his companion-who-is-not-the-Nerevarine, and he pops the spoonful of prawn into his mouth, shell intact. (Caelestis has never eaten prawn zirself – ze’s always been very put off by meat that looks like animals – but ze’s reasonably certain that that’s not how it’s done.) He chews, eyes dark as wine; asks, “Why here?”

Caelestis takes up zir own cutlery. “It’s supposed to be the best in the city,” ze says. Ze’d ordered eggs, because bird isn’t so different from kwama, and seafood, because Vvardenfell has sea, too. (Ze has never taken easily to change, no matter how minor.)

Ze manages to carve off a forkful of squid. It smells nice, at least, though it will be irritating getting it out, later. On a normal day ze wouldn’t eat. But they’re practising, pretending to be people. People eat, as a general rule, so the not-Nerevarine has to, too.

Vivec flicks his eyes to the side. “No. Why any hotel?”

Ah.

Caelestis eats the squid, for the sake of looking like ze’s doing anything other than scrambling for an answer.

(The answer is, simply, that ze’s afraid; to ask for things, or to be given them, and then not want to refuse.)

“I think it’s best,” ze says, once the perfectly nice bite of squid cake is chewed and swallowed, “that I keep this time short.” (It’s been years of letter-writing; years of growing apart; ze is terrified down to zir bones that the minute ze steps into that house it will feel wrong. Even worse, that it won’t.)

(It’s a final farewell. No sense in dragging it out. Surely that will only make it more painful.)

There’s too much to it; too much mess and confusion; Caelestis stares at zir egg and squid and doesn’t mean to say anything, but the words fall ugly and vulnerable onto the ceramic of zir plate anyway. “I don’t even know what I’ll say.”

Vivec’s spoon clinks against his dish. The candle in its little glass dances. “Say everything,” he says, with the tone of one bestowing enlightening knowledge; “You’re lucky enough to know this is your last chance.” Guilt rises, as it always does, in Caelestis’ throat; the spoon clanks again and zir companion says, “This is actually quite good.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Caelestis replies. Zir fork squeaks. They are quiet, for a brief moment, in the noise of the hall.

Vivec reaches for the wine jug, pours hirself a glass; offers it to Caelestis, who declines. Food is more difficult to extract when mixed with liquid; besides, ze’s never liked wine enough to drink it for the sake of the taste, and it does nothing to zem, now.

Alcohol, like most intoxicants, works its effects through the bloodstream. Caelestis is a dry and clotted corpse.

“It is good,” Vivec repeats, and tilts their head to the side, thoughtful. It’s odd to see the hair move with them. “Hm. Perhaps you can just leave me here when you go to visit your mother.”

Their eyes look as deep red as the wine swirling around in the glass. It’s an unfamiliar brand; from Skingrad, Caelestis would bet. Most Cyrod wines are. The whole county is a vineyard, according to zir mother; ze’s never been, personally.

Maybe before they return to Vvardenfell, they could take a look. It isn’t as if travelling time is an issue. It isn’t as if any time is an issue anymore.

Caelestis prods at the spiced yolk of zir egg. “Maybe,” ze says. “But surely you’d get bored of sitting around eating prawns after a while.”

When Vivec smiles, an odd and private twist of the lips, the guise flickers; his hair gleams and one eye flashes gold. “You underestimate me,” he says gravely, beginning an attempt to shell the prawn with careful fingers. “I’m sure I’ve written verse on this very subject. Anything can be interesting if you choose to be interested by it.”

There is soft meat spreading over his fingers, knuckle-deep in cracking the carapace. Caelestis stares at the shell, wonders vaguely if ze could do anything with it; if it’s flesh-like enough; if it’s dead enough. Vivec extracts the innards with the care of a surgeon and swallows the shelled prawn in one. For a moment it all feels overwhelming – so staggeringly unbelievable – so ridiculous; Caelestis thinks of their first meeting, strange and awkward and so, so heavy. Ze’d still been alive, then, still growing accustomed to the new shape corprus and ridding zirself thereof gave zem, still figuring out how to talk around zir half-tongue, still carving out a place in Morrowind’s mythos to fit zem. It was staggering; it was overpowering; ze’d been choking on parables, still, so very unprepared to meet him in person. When ze first pushed open that door Vivec hadn’t even yet called off the curse they’d levelled on zir head; the temple was ready and willing to kill zem at a word. They’d each spoken of it simply, perfunctorily; that they had tried to have zem executed was, at that time, the simplest part of their relationship.

(Now, Caelestis thinks, the simple thing it all boils down to is different. Now, they are allies. Everything else is secondary.)

Vivec had seemed intimidating then. Alien, unknowable; the centre of a legend ze’d found some strange comfort in since ze was a child, hovering still and silent above hir own ancient shrine; a god, back when it meant something bigger than it does now. Hir speech had been short and weighty, every word pronounced as if it were momentous, solemn as anything. Caelestis doesn’t think ze saw hir smile until perhaps their fourth meeting, and even then it had been wry. Ze didn’t joke, then; said nothing flippantly; carried hirself with a comportment befitting the roll ze was taking.

Caelestis wonders, now, how true any of it was. How true any of it is, or ever has been. Ze’s not an enormously insightful person, and people are complicated; gods, seemingly, even more so. Especially when they’re both at once.

Zir fork clinks against the porcelain of the plate. “You seem happier,” ze says. The fire crackles.

“Do I?” says Vivec; Caelestis can never usually read his tone, but now he sounds curious. He leans back into the smooth wood of his chair, eyes settling on the elaborately coffered ceiling. (It really is overpoweringly strange seeing him with hair; long and pulled back, escaping easily from its ties. Caelestis wonders if this is how he looked, before the Heart; ze hasn’t asked.)

He gazes at the ceiling as if some grand thing might be inscribed in its painted contours.

“I think,” he says after a moment, Caelestis watching him while slicing off a mouthful of squid cake, “I am relieved,” and he nods decisively as he looks back at his plate, moves in to peel open another prawn. In the light of the little candle, his fingers look slick.

Caelestis lifts zir forkful to zir mouth. Ze does not say why? does not say how? does not say don’t you grieve for all we’ve wrought? but it must be written on the lines of zir face, because they meet zir eyes and tilt their head, gentle.

“You know I wasn’t surprised,” ze says, and Caelestis nods, once. “All of it – all we’ve done – was eons in the making.” A pause; hir fingers crack open a shell. “I hadn’t spoken to either of them in decades. I grieved for each loss long before it came to pass.”

The room swirls and eddies around them, a mess of chatter, painted-on scenery. Caelestis feels, sometimes, like ze could reach out and smear the world around zem with a touch.

Vivec sets hir food down in the ceramic dish. “And now there is nothing left to dread. I’m done mourning.” He brings his thumb to his mouth, licks off the juice of the meat. His teeth are small. He smiles, suddenly, wide and brilliant. “I confess, I didn’t think this far ahead. Now it seems all the world is new.”

“Soon enough,” Caelestis says drily, “it will be.”

Vivec raises their glass to that. Caelestis chinks zir fork against it, after they spend several seconds refusing to bring it back down. “Salut,” ze says, watches him drink.

He sets the glass down. “I am glad,” he says, “that I do not navigate this new mortal world alone.” His dish glisters in the firelight, spices mingling with the air’s thin smoke; he tips it toward zem and offers, “Crustacean?”

#weirdest friends in the fucking world go to a fancy restaurant weeks before their joint disappearance #will they pay for that meal? your guess is as good as mine #I haven't written caelestis' awkward and very final reunion with zir mother yet. maybe I'll post it when I finally do...#I'm like 90% sure that vehk gets bored and crashes it. he's fresh out of loved ones so he's curious to see how ze's dealing with it #this is about a day before that #tesfest24 #the elder scrolls #tesblr #morrowind #oc tag #caelestis #tes #fay writes #my writing #vivec

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manmeet-123 · 27 days ago

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6 Essential Baking Tools Every Home Baker Should Have

Baking can be a delightful and rewarding experience, but having the right tools can make all the difference. Whether you’re a novice or a seasoned baker, equipping your kitchen with essential baking tools will help you achieve consistent results and enjoy the process. Here’s a list of ten must-have baking tools for every home baker.

1. Measuring Cups and Spoons

Accurate measurements are crucial in baking. Invest in a set of dry measuring cups (for flour, sugar, etc.) and liquid measuring cups (for milk, water, etc.). A set of measuring spoons is also essential for precise measurements of smaller quantities.

2. Mixing Bowls

A variety of mixing bowls in different sizes will help you mix ingredients efficiently. Look for bowls made of glass, stainless steel, or plastic. Nesting bowls save space and are convenient for various tasks.

3. Whisk

A good whisk is essential for mixing dry ingredients, beating eggs, and incorporating air into batters. Opt for a stainless steel whisk for durability and ease of cleaning.

4. Rubber Spatula

A rubber spatula is perfect for scraping down the sides of bowls, folding ingredients, and transferring batters. Choose a heat-resistant silicone spatula for versatility in both baking and cooking.

5. Baking Sheets and Pans

Invest in a variety of baking sheets and pans, including:

Cookie sheets for cookies and pastries

Cake pans (round and square) for layer cakes

Loaf pans for bread and pound cakes

Muffin tins for cupcakes and muffins

6. Rolling Pin

A rolling pin is essential for rolling out dough for cookies, pies, and pastries. Choose a classic wooden rolling pin or a marble one for added weight and smoothness.

Conclusion

Equipping your kitchen with these ten essential baking tools will set you up for success in your baking endeavors. With the right tools at your disposal, you’ll find that baking becomes more enjoyable and less stressful. Whether you’re whipping up a batch of cookies or crafting a beautiful cake, having these tools will help you create delicious treats with confidence. Happy baking!

#brownies #cupcakes #muffins #bakery #pastries #dessert

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pearlypairings · 1 year ago

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steve and robin with “put the icing down”? one of them is a birthday cake baking pro the other is a nightmatreeee (also happy birthday weekend lovebug!)

platonic steve & robin || angst, comfort, dynamic duo || 1788 words (lol oops)

A/N : uwu!!! I went crazy! this prompt made me drag out a lil angst (mostly because it coincided with that devastating behind the scenes photo of Dustin in front of Eddie's grave). I liked playing with the idea that Steve would end up being the more skilled baker with Robin being very who cares it's just a cake??? and he's like NO I need to FIX our friend! which is that's not at all realistic for this level of trauma, but his heart's in the right place so Robin goes along for the emotional ride.

"yesterday's" prompt

"Rob—Rob!" Steve pointed at the flour-coated, eggshell-laden hostage with a death grip on his mother's precious silver icing spatula. "Put. The Icing. DOWN." Her fingers pressed into the plasticky flesh of the piping bag in direct mutiny of his kitchen dictatorship. "What's got your panties all in a bunch? You've been a snobby baker all day. Isn't making a cake for someone supposed to be fun?"

Robin hovered dangerously over the three layered round cake propped up on the white ceramic cake stand. They'd been in the Harrington kitchen slaving for hours on each part, though Steve surprisingly wielded more skills than Robin in the baking department, especially for being such an athletic doofus. Turned out he learned the way of the oven from his mom, baking for charity fundraisers and the like when his dad was away on business. He hadn’t divulged any more details when Robin had asked how he learned all these recipes, and she didn’t have to ask. She already knew the Harringtons were sticklers for high achievement and perfection, which clearly influenced Steve's eagle-eye approach to measuring the dry ingredients and the almost weirdly-scientific method in which he ordered the ingredients to be mixed together "for maximum moistness." Gag. He wasn't even listening to how ridiculous he sounded and that definitely made her raise more than a few eyebrows as she stayed on the outskirts of his deliberate process. "It needs to be perfect, not just slathered all over." Robin watched as he had to consciously refrain from finger combing his hair, his own hands covered in remnants of their baking “project.” That was his nervous tick, something gnawed at him more than just their favorite twerp’s birthday cake. "Isn't it the thought that counts?" she pushed, not yet retreating from the cake. "Yeah, well—Mrs. Henderson asked for my help, because she had to work or whatever. I don’t want to let her down...” He spoke softer, rocking back and forth heel to toe, toe to heel. Steve’s face softened, too, making Robin lean in, forcing herself to listen closely. The truth was coming. “And you know how bad Dustin has had it lately. I don’t have to remind you. He hasn't even mentioned his own birthday, just kept talking about Eddie’s last month."

Steve's hands planted themselves on his hips. A shadow glazed his eyes when he mentioned their younger friend struggling, like responsibility hung solely on his shoulders for Dustin's grief. As if somehow Steve was the only one who made life-altering decisions that day. Robin dropped her arms to her sides and with that, the frosting no longer threatened the pristine vanilla-chocolate-marble layers of tempting cake. She shrugged off the tiny mutiny with an apologetic look. "Thank you," he said as he leaned to one hip, cooling off his unusual, micro-managing attitude. He poked another toothpick through the top layer and kept his hand close to see if any warmth lingered to confirm it was ready to be iced. She slid next to him focusing intently, probably mentally plotting out his icing to spatula strategy for the canvas of the cake, and she bumped gently into his hip to get his attention. Robin wasn’t gonna let him stay locked up in his head under all that stupid, silly hair to fend for himself. "It's not your fault, you know." His gaze sank for a moment from the counter to the floor, and a sigh fell from his lips heavy as an ocean anchor. His knuckles whitened along the edge of the island counter. "Ever since..." Steve trailed off, shaking his head low. They both knew what he meant: last year’s spring break, when Hawkins had the deadliest un-natural disaster. Nobody bounced back this time like the other tussles with the Upside Down, the wounds struck too deep for them not to be left bleeding out and a mess in the aftermath. His grasp held onto the granite counter even tighter. "The kid saw things he shouldn't have. Well, they all did. But he was alone, he had to... had to find his own way back by himself, covered in......” His back bent to let his head hang even lower. “They shouldn't have been left out there in the open in the first place. I knew better than to let either of them be in that park." Robin's powdery hand gravitated to the arm he flexed out of anger or grief she wasn't sure. Lately it seemed like every conversation circled back to this idea that their failure had more to do with Steve than the impossibly terrifying, murderous interdimensional mutant with an insatiable vendetta against Hawkins. Like the death and maiming and earth splitting destruction that was so much bigger than their little Scooby Doo gang somehow circled solely around Steve Harrington. But she knew better than to try to rationalize right now when he was like this. He placed his hand on top of hers and squeezed it twice. Their well-practiced system to communicate that they're still present, mentally. She squeezed his bicep once more, looking up at him. "I just wanted him to have one good, perfect thing this year for himself, and I guess when his mom asked me for this favor, I did the typical Harrington family thing and made something simple into a whole….. shitty perfectionist production. I'm sorry, I was being an ass about it."

"Well, dingus, you're always an ass, but I can let this one time slide." Robin made that smile stretch to near goofy levels, the one that always made him roll his eyes, but smile back. Desperate times, desperate measures, etc. etc. “I think this cake will be Mrs. Henderson-approved when she sees how insanely tall it is. And I don’t know how we can help Dustin right now, but at least this can show him we’re here, you know, when he’s ready to talk?” He nodded, his shoulders relaxing a little to a lower slump. His hands stayed busy though, moving onto the big bowl of frosting to stir and fold its contents to re-fluff it or something, she guessed. “None of us really came out unscathed, did we?” “No, don’t think anyone’s really okay. We’re just trying to survive with what’s left.” “Yeah…..yeah.” Steve conceded. The spatula kept folding and folding and folding until it made Robin dizzy to watch. She stopped him again before shrugging. “So let’s make a really good cake. We’re in control of that.” He offered her the first scoop to put on the heavenly smelling layers of cake before them; panic started to squeeze at her throat. That actually was a disaster waiting to happen with her luck lately with general coordination outside of navigating her trumpet. “Come on, you get first dibs for me being such a douche.” “Actually, I’ve rethought my stance. How about you ice the thing and I put the little Oreo crumbles and sprinkles on the edge. That seems more like my thing…..” She laughed at herself, snorting a little while she visualized the final product and its delivery. “I think, maybe, you should also be the one who carries it into the Henderson’s house, too. To be safe.” The last thing poor Steve needed was for them to finish this thing, in hopes of making him feel better, and then, she trips across their lawn and this fucking masterpiece cake goes flying up in the air only to become worm food. This was now a mission to help their friend remember that he mattered, too…. That they could remember their lost loved ones, honor them, and still celebrate their own lives. And in Steve’s world, that started with an expertly baked cake, so that's what they’ll do. He didn’t budge at first, but once Robin nodded him on his way, Steve started to gently ice the cake in precise swoops with the special spatula. She grabbed all the toppings to get them ready, organizing them in tiny bowls with tinier spoons she found in the Harrington specialized utensil drawer; she was sure they weren’t technically the correct tool, but like, they seemed perfect and Steve didn’t correct her when his eyes flicked her direction to note what she was doing.

When all was said and done, the center was devoid of the most important pronouncement. Robin eyed up her work on the sides. The sprinkles and crumbles probably could have looked cleaner if he did them, but they were at least evenly distributed and not too crazy in their wild array. “So, my handwriting is shit.” Steve said, smirking with a grip on the smallest piping bag of vibrant green-colored icing. He offered Robin the task at hand. “I know you’re handwriting isn’t shit.” “Uhh, don’t you think this part’s a little too important for me to fuck up? We already established I am not a natural at domestic work, it seems.” “If it’s bad, it’ll make Dustin laugh. If it’s good, he’ll be surprised that two idiots can make a cool cake. Win-win in my book.” “But, then you could try to do it.” Robin shrugged off the green threat. “I was being a control freak the whole time.” His face shifted, a tense knit in his brow. “Come on, this’ll at least make me feel like I didn’t ruin the whole day.” “Fine, fine, fine. I’ll do it, but if I hear one giggle out of you before we see Dustin, I WILL smash your face into the cake and tell Mrs. Henderson what happened. She’ll take my side, you know it.” He offered the tube again with a pleased grin. “Fair’s fair.” “One more thing first.” Robin had been eyeing the silver bowl of extra white frosting. She’d controlled herself while he’d worked diligently on the cake, like he was training for the world championship of baking. But now the sight of it and the timing was too tempting. She stuck her finger for a big scoop and swiped it across his cheek in a sneak attack. His reaction was too slow, with a pitched-down “hey!” and a swat of his hand that missed and nearly got the cake instead. Robin took the decorative icing bag from his hand, took a step back and shrugged innocently. “It had to be done. For Dustin, of course.” Steve rolled his eyes, grabbing a dish towel to clean off the white streak from his face. “ I’ll get you back when you least expect it.” “I know, and I’ll count on it. Now, let me focus….should it be in Russian or English?” “Jesus, Robin, English obviously.” “Okay, okay. Good, because I don’t know if Russians celebrate birthdays or not…or how to spell Dustin in Cyrillic.”

#pearly birthday prompts #eleventh prompt!#almost done!#platonic stobin #steve and robin #steve harrington #robin buckley #angst post s4 #dustin's birthday #baking a cake together!#bestfriends #but sortof too dependent #this might be more than a ficlet lol #stranger things fanfiction #comfort #jokes #firefly graphics dividers

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