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dwdisplay · 2 years

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Website : https://www.dwdisplay.co.uk/

Address : Wareham, Dorset, United Kingdom

DWD Retail Display offers bespoke retail point of sale stands, manufactured in sheet steel, steel tube, wire, powder coated, with printed graphics, custom packaging and expert delivery services, worldwide.

Facebook : https://www.facebook.com/DWD-Retail-Display-368716893733556/

Instagram : https://www.instagram.com/dwdretail/

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loveshotzz · 10 months

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We’re supposed to be eating breakfast

older!steve x fem!reader an AIRWIY oneshot

summary: You wake up after your first sleep over at Steve’s house feeling bold.

wc: 3.1k

warnings: 18+ older!steve, smut, p in v, cream pie, breeding kink, mentions of past drinking, reader is wearing Steve’s baseball jersey but it’s not really described how it fits on readers body, no real descriptions of readers body.

authors note: this took me over a month to write with everything going on in my personal life, so I’m excited to finally give it to you. thank you all for your patience and encouragement to keep coming back on here every day despite me not writing as much as I used to and to keep me opening my word docs. this one was spurred my @palmtreesx3 brilliant mind and an idea that’s haunted me day and night. This takes place in the All I Really Want Is You universe, but can be read as a stand alone. Just know you’re wearing Steve’s personalized cubs jersey. :)

The harsh sounds of the coffee grinder is what wakes you up, but the golden rays of morning sunshine that leaks through the cracks in the blinds is what gets your eyes to open. Slow soft blinks, with fluttering lashes and brain still fuzzy from the kind of sleep that makes you temporarily forget what year it is, you need a moment to recognize the unfamiliar, much nicer surroundings.

You were in Steve’s room.

A smile you can’t contain spreads wide across your face, butterfly wings tickling at your rib cage. Stretching your still sleeping limbs, your body melts into the soft cushions of his mattress. The feathers that fill his pillows contour to your head perfectly, and the memories of the ways he had you pressed into it resurface, skin igniting with the ghost of his hands on your curves. Biting your bottom lip, the kind of nerves that you haven’t had since the Fourth of July make themselves known again, having never spent a morning with him at his home.

Rolling over, your face hits the cotton of his pillowcase that you’re not surprised is cold. Shamelessly you inhale the cedar and spice that still lingers on it, and the faint ache between your thighs, along with the clinks of glass you hear from his sink, reminds you that he’s just down stairs. It takes a little bit of willpower to leave the cozy cocoon you’ve found yourself in but the need to see him over powers the comfort of his duvet that feels like just the right amount of weight against your body.

Shuffling out of the covers, your bare feet hit the cold hard wood of his floors, a shiver crawling up your spine that you tell yourself is from the chill of the winter air that seeps through his unsealed windows, definitely not your nerves catching a glimpse of your naked body in his dresser mirror. The same mirror you’d seen him in almost five months ago.

Padding across his bedroom you wonder if he can hear your steps as you search for any sign of your clothes that had been haphazardly thrown around after an old bottle of red wine. The clean white color of his jersey catches in your gaze, the blue bold lettering that spells out his last name has your thighs pressing at the memory of your second date as it sits folded on top of his dresser.

The thought of how good he looked with it stretched across his broad shoulders, and the top two buttons undone, teasing the chest hair that your nails dragged through last night makes your skin warm. The praises he whispered in hot merlot against your lips, your neck, and between your legs is what gives you the confidence you need to slip it on instead.

The stairs creak under each step, but the popping grease of the bacon that fills his house with the smell of maple lets you go undetected. Familiar voices of who you’re learning are sportscasters, spill out from the small speaker on his phone that you know is propped up on the little plastic holder he always sets it on when he charges it. He mumbles something in response to the commentary under his breath, and you hear the beeping of the oven telling him it’s finished preheating.

Your cheeks hurt from how high they push up when you realize Steve’s making you breakfast.

A little shy from his affections already, your fingers wrap around the wood frame of the entryway with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. With his back to you, it gives you a perfect view of the way his white cotton undershirt stretches tight over his shoulder blades that move with every flick of his wrist, forearms flexing as he whisks whatever is in the bowl in front of him. Black sweats sit low on his hips, giving you a glimpse of his boxer briefs underneath, the font across the top of his waist band says Burberry, making your palms sweat. A personal favorite pair.

He turns his head to look at a replay of a game he missed in favor of spending time with you on his phone screen, still completely unaware of your presence. The new angle reveals the silver glasses he wore a few weeks ago in his office, dark chestnut and peppered hair sticking out wild at the ends, a mess you know was made by your hands.

“Seriously? Keep him on the bench.” He grumbles, shaking his head before bringing his attention back to the bowl.

You watch him for a few seconds longer, but his butt jiggling with the force of his whisking makes a giggle slip past your lips blowing your cover. He jumps at the noise no matter how sweet it is, meeting your eyes from over his shoulder. Steve gives you a smile that you’re learning is only reserved for you and sometimes Eddie, punching the air out of your lungs. Watching the way it only continues to grow across his stubble covered face makes your heart swell even more.

It’s only when his gaze finally lands on the only thing you’re wearing that the gold shimmering inside his eyes darken, a starless night lingering where the bottom hem of his jersey sits at the very tops of your thighs.

“Jesus honey, look at you.” The metal whisk hits the glass of the bowl with a loud clink as he turns around to really drink you in, “good morning to me.”

“I hope this is okay,” your voice comes out smaller than intended, suddenly self conscious you might have overstepped despite the way he watches you take your first steps into the kitchen like he wants to eat you alive.

“Okay?” His huffs out a breath like he’s wrecked, long fingers coming up to scratch at his jaw, “I’m afraid you’re not allowed to wear anything else in my house ever again.”

You giggle again, and you swear you hear him groan because of it.

“I think we might be able to arrange something, a deal, an agreement of some sort.” you smirk, tapping your nails along the smooth black marble of his kitchen island, giving your hips a little extra sway with your slow steps.

Both his palms curve around the counter behind him as he leans back, chest puffing while he licks his full pink lips. They pull up into a lopsided grin, a hungry gaze roaming freely as you come to a stop right in front of him. His confidence only falters a little when he has to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, but the gesture only makes your heart swell especially when the tops of his ears redden.

You lean against the island with a smile that tells him you’re up to no good. Heat from the oven and the man across from you warms your legs against the chill that bounces off all the glass and stone in his kitchen. Electricity sparks in the space between your bodies making the tips of your fingers and toes buzz, your pulse jumping when he reaches a big hand out for you.

“Just a little bit too far for me still baby,” He wiggles his fingers at you making you smile shyly before you slip your hand into his palm, your eyes glaze over watching it disappear in his grasp.

His gentle tug makes you squeal, hitting his chest with a soft thump, he grins down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Wrapping an arm around you to keep you from leaving, he lets go of your hand to cup the side of your face. The pad of his thumb traces the length of your cheek bone, and he smells just his pillow. Your hands find themselves tangled into the cotton of his shirt, leaning deeper into his touch. It makes the playfulness that dances in the chestnut of his eyes turn soft with something lovesick.

“Good morning handsome,” you say in a content sigh, and the hand that's spread across your back starts to work a path up your spine pulling the fabric of his jersey with it.

“I could really get used to this you know,” He hums, dipping his head down so the tip of his nose runs up the length of yours, mint and coffee on his breath “waking up to you.”

Your stomach flips at his words, all the blood rushing to your cheeks when you feel the cool breeze hit where your underwear should be.

“Oh yeah? What about Bandit?” You tease leaning closer, letting your top lip catch his bottom one.

Steve snorts a little, reminded of his dog who he knows is soaking up the sun outside, and the palm on your back squeezes you even closer.

“Are you kidding me? We’re obsessed with you over here honey.” The whites of his teeth show a little before they nip at your pout. He takes advantage of the gasp he earns, closing the gap completely in the kind of kiss that doesn’t give you any time to catch your breath before he’s licking at your bottom lip.

Your fingers untangle themselves from his shirt, and find a new home to get lost in the locks at the nap of his neck. Tongues meet in the middle with eager enthusiasm, and your front teeth hit as you push up on your tippy toes on the search for more. A deep groan vibrates from his chest, and his palm starts working its way down the dip of your back. When he’s met with the bare swell of your ass as he reaches the bottom hem of his jersey, you feel him kick up in his sweatpants.

“Tough girl.” He says your nickname like he's scolding you, leaving open mouthed kisses up your jaw, nipping at your earlobe before whispering with the kind of gravel in his voice that makes the inside of your thighs sticky. “We’re supposed to be eating breakfast.”

You hardly register him turning the oven off beside you.

“Who says -“ your sentence is cut off by a gasp when two thick fingers trace up your slick lips with ease, the pads of them pressing down on your bundle of nerves just long enough to make you whine with shaky knees.

“Who says what huh?” He whispers against the sensitive spot behind your ear, rubbing small circles on your clit with pointed pressure, obsessed with the way your jaw goes slack, and your eyebrows pinch together because of it.

“Who says we can’t do both?” You manage to get out with fluttering lashes, as he spreads you apart.

“You’re right, I don’t think breakfast is gonna be sweet enough for me.” He tuts, letting his middle finger push just a knuckle into your already greedy walls, and the soft moan that he gets from you has him leaking in his sweats. “You gonna help me with that, honey?”

Too lost in his teasing all you manage is a nod and a breathy ‘mmhmm’ looking up at him with big glassy eyes. He lets his lips ghost over yours, with a smirk tugging at the corners of them before spinning you around. Your palms land back on the cool marble of the kitchen island while both his hands wrap themselves firmly around the soft dough of your hips keeping his Jersey rucked up with them. He pulls your ass flush with his hips, letting you feel the hard length of him that begs to be released from the fleece confines of his pants against the ache in your core.

“This is what you wanted when you came down here lookin’ like this huh?” He asks with a low voice, hooking his thumbs under the bottom of his jersey. Lifting it higher up your back, he grinds against you while his eyes drink in all the soft dips of all your curves.

“Maybe,” you giggle a little breathy looking back over your shoulder at him with half lidded eyes.

His smile steals all the warm light from the room as he looks down at you with a cocked brow.

“I was trying to wait till after breakfast, which was hard waking up to you naked in my bed.” He can’t stop his heavy gaze from wandering to his last name covering the top of your back, unlocking something primal and possessive inside of him that he thought he’d lost forever. He wants you to leave it on, he’ll get it dry cleaned. “But honey, I can’t keep my hands off of you lookin’ like this.”

His palm feels heavy as it slides over the curve of your ass, squeezing at the fat with strong fingers spreading you apart a little before shoving his sweatpants half way down his hairy thighs. With hot cheeks, you flutter around nothing when the thickness of his cock springs free, standing at attention just for you. Somersaults in your stomach as you watch his tight grip pump himself a few times. Your hips wiggle in anticipation, whining when he teases more, gliding his tip through your slick, a small moan spilling from between your lips when he catches your clit.

“Always so needy for me,” he groans with a hint of disbelief, “fuck, what’d I do to deserve you?”

Steve doesn’t waste anymore time, slowly pushing in and the feeling of your walls wrapping around him while your body tries to accommodate the stretch has him chanting your name under his breath. Half way in, he regrips your hips a little rougher than before. His cock twitches watching your back bow, making his last name shine against the light while your nails scratch at the cool marble when he bottoms out.

Legs shaking, still sensitive from the night before, his hold on you tightens. You keen at the feeling of his thumbs rubbing small circles into your soft skin giving you time to adjust. It doesn’t take long for the initial sting subside, giving you the strength to rock your hips a little, a breathy sigh escaping you when it feels good.

“Yeah?” He hums, meeting your hips with his own hitting that spot that makes your toes curl.

“Uh huh” You manage to utter as he pulls almost all the way out, a moan of his name long and drawn out bounces off the walls when he pushes back in letting you feel every inch.

“That’s my girl,” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and it makes you want to turn around and see it.

Your eyes meet from over your shoulder again as he starts to roll his hips, finding the perfect pace. The sound of skin slapping fills the quiet space between moans every time your ass jiggles from the force of it. That strand falls messily over his forehead when he looks down at you, brows pinching together and jaw going slack like seeing your face only intensified everything he was feeling. He holds your stare, and the snap of his hips starts to get rougher. Burying himself deep focusing on that spot, the one he’s only ever been able to find.

“Oh, oh- Steve. Right there -shit - oh my god.” Your head falls between your shoulders, when he starts to barely pull out anymore. The tip of him making your eyelashes flutter as he reaches the spot that had you screaming his name last night, over and over again.

His eyes wander the expanse of your back, keeping his pace while his hands slowly start to slide up your sides, pushing his jersey with it. He wants to see more of you, but his hips stutter hearing the noises he’s getting out of you with his last name plastered across your hunched shoulders.

“You look so good - shiiit, like this baby. My name on your back, letting me bend you over in my kitchen while I cook you breakfast.” He babbles as your walls start to flutter, already dangerously close to falling over the ledge, your body threatening to take him with you. “Wanna do this all the time, please, let me do this all the time, honey.”

“Whatever, whatever you want. I’ll do whatever you want, I’m - oh fuck, I’m yours.” Your words break off in a moan when he starts to circle his hips at the same time you push yours back and he holds you there, repeating the motion.

“Yeah? You’re mine?” Steve grunts, cock twitching at the thought of filling you up, and for the first time in over a decade he feels the need to mark what’s his in the most primal way he knows. The thought of you round with his kid brings a new kind of intensity to the way he starts to fuck you, and he knows he’s not going to last much longer. “Tell me again.”

“Mmmhmm, always yours.” You whine, feeling yourself reaching the edge. Steve leans forward, somehow going deeper. Long thick fingers find their way between your thighs, where the two of you connect and he starts rubbing messy circles on your clit, pushing you off the cliff.

You flutter and squeeze around him hard enough to almost push him out, but he continues rutting his hips fighting against it, white spots explode behind your lids, his name falling out of your mouth broken in a gasp and a shudder.

“That’s it, fuck, that’s it.” He groans, watching the way your forehead hits the cold marble with another tremor that makes his cock twitch. “Gonna cum baby, let me cum inside, need it, please.”

He can make out the nod of your head, and with the little strength you have left, you push yourself further back encouraging him more. He knows you're on the pill, he’s seen you take it, but right now in the heat of it all, a small part of him hopes you missed a day. He blames the blue letters on his Jersey staring him right in the face, or the way you coat his cock with the remains of what he did to you every time you suck him right back in.

He pushes himself deep enough to make you fall forward a little, a low groan rumbling deep from his chest as he spills hot inside of you the rock of his hips slowing down as he falls apart. His forehead hits your back, with one last lazy thrust, and you can feel the heat of his breath as he pants to catch his breath. You wish the fabric of his jersey wasn’t so thick when he plants a kiss between your shoulder blades, before slowly pulling himself back up.

“Yeah, it’s official. This is absolutely the only thing you’re allowed to wear here.”

#my writing #all i really want is you #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader smut

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another-lost-mc · 11 months

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candy prompts: leviathan + spicy + spooky

leviathan is your biggest fan. he doesn't realize that you're his biggest fan too.

pairing: leviathan x siren!gn!reader

content: nsfw. monster!au (reader is a siren). leviathan has two cocks. implied oral sex (levi receiving).

word count: 1k omg how did this happen

a/n: I like to imagine that aquatic races of the devildom worship and totally want to bang the grand admiral.

This isn't the way tonight's backstage meet & greet with one of his favourite idols was supposed to go.

Levi bought the most exclusive package as soon as the pre-sale link arrived in his Dmail. On the day of the concert, he put on a t-shirt featuring your logo, and he even shrugged on the new zip-up hoodie that he bought in the VIP section before the show. He waited in line with the other backstage pass holders so he could get an autograph and photo with you. Some of the lust demons in line ahead of him were radiating pheromones so strongly that it made his mind groggy, and he shook his head to dissipate the fog of giddy excitement that permeated the air around him.

When it was finally his turn to see you, the other fans had already been escorted away by security. He glanced at you nervously from under the hood he pulled over his head to conceal his identity; it wasn't a secret that the Avatar of Envy was a fan of Devildom's top idols, but he didn't like the unwanted attention from randoms in the crowd.

He handed you his poster and backstage pass to sign and he hoped the tremor in his hands wasn't too noticeable. The black marker squeaked against the thick paper and plastic. You smiled at all your other fans earlier, but even from his place at the back of the line, Levi thought your smile looked forced and insincere. He would know-he's forced that same expression on his own face countless times.

"Th-thanks," he mumbled when you handed him his autographed merch. He cradled them delicately in his arms so that they wouldn't get wrinkled or torn.

"Fans can get a selfie too," you reminded him with a gentle smile. "But maybe we can find a nicer backdrop than this grungy hallway. What do you say?"

Levi glanced around nervously. The security crew that loitered in the area earlier had vanished. There was something enticing about the teasing glint in your eyes but he blinked and the look was gone. He took a deep breath, not realizing how close he was standing to you. When did you get so close? The scent of your fragrance and sweat was staggering and he forced himself to stand still and avoid the temptation to lean even closer. He hesitated for only a moment before nodding.

You beamed wildly and grabbed his hand; he gulped as your fangs tipped over the curve of your lips. "Perfect," you purred before leading him down a dark hallway. "My dressing room is this way."

You were kind enough to take his precious memorabilia and set them down safely before shoving him against your dressing room door. Your lips crashed against his while your hands reached into his sweat-slicked hair. You slid the hood down and cradled his jaw so you could tease the skin of his neck with your fingernails. He broke the kiss with a gasp, and you didn't hesitate to slip your tongue into his mouth and flick it against his before pulling back with a very satisfied smirk.

"I recognized you the moment you stood in line," you admitted, voice quivering with excitement, glassy-eyed and pupils blown wide. "The Avatar of Envy, the Grand Admiral himself, coming to see me perform? I'm flattered."

Levi stared at you like he was seeing you for the first time. Maybe he was seeing the real you for the first time, the version none of your other fans knew existed. In the privacy of your dressing room you could finally be yourself. The magic that concealed your oceanic heritage slid off you like a veil and revealed your secrets to the demon you worshipped like a god. He was entranced. When he licked his lips to chase the taste of your kiss, it reminded him of salt water and the ocean breeze.

You preened under his curious scrutiny, satisfied that he was captivated by you as much as you were of him. When you realized you had his silent approval to continue, you unzipped his sweater and pushed it down his arms. It fell into a heap on the floor at his feet, but he didn't seem to care.

By the time you settled on your knees before him, the delicate pattern of pearlescent scales replaced your once-smooth skin and frilly gills appeared on the sides of your neck. You gazed at him innocently, your third eyelid blinking quickly over your lovestruck eyes as you nuzzled against the bulge in his jeans. Dainty fingers with long nails flicked open the button at his waistband. You bit your bottom lip between rows of jagged teeth and eagerly tugged down the short zipper next. Both his cocks sprung free when you slid his boxers down. He was panting heavily above you, and you licked your lips with a forked tongue, smirking when his eyes followed the movement.

"I've wanted to meet you in person for so long, sir," you whispered reverently. His cocks twitched when your lips imbued his title with just a hint of lust, and you couldn't resist the urge to touch him anymore. You kissed the tip of one of his cocks and smeared precum across your mouth with a satisfied hum, lapping at the salty taste as your mouth watered, eager for another taste. One of your hands curled delicately around the other cock and squeezed him lightly in your grip. He moaned loudly when your webbed fingers began stroking him in a soft, slick rhythm.

"I think I might be your biggest fan," you confessed in a breathy whisper before closing your eyes and finally taking his cock into your mouth.

read more: halloween 2023 masterlist || obey me masterlist

#obey me #obey me leviathan #obey me leviathan x reader #leviathan x reader #leviathan smut #obey me smut #obey me x reader #x reader #gn!reader #cw monsterfucking #trick or treat 2023

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late-draft · 3 months

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I want to know all of the details of the scifi au like right now, I'm so hooked instantly

Okay let me set the stage!

This is a sci-fi AU, leaning onto (what I've read) the first idea of ATLA; however unlike how it had Aang be from an ancient technologically advanced civilization waking up in a technologically regressed world(?), here the tech that Air Nomads had was forgotten and new one was created and it proliferated.

An important thing to keep in mind is that I intended this AU to be literally made up of iconic, primeval tropes of young audience's shows. I'm currently in a phase where I test how well I'm able to incorporate tropes and make the best use of them, so for this AU, expect it to feel EXACTLY like the thrill of running at 10 PM up to your grandma's CRT TV to watch that amazing series on Jetix you can't get enough of!!!!

~~~

First thing to notice here, the world has a Key Holder for every bending type. Keys are your magical symbols. It's the standard trope in these types of shows, think of them as kids who represent the absolute core traits of their element. Because Aang has to find specific individuals now rather than arbitrarily choosing a teacher, we have a tighter narrative although more trope-y. Aang is the Key holder for Air - every Avatar is always a Key holder for their native element, but can be taught other bending types only by respective elements' Key holders.

As expected, the world is ruled by the Fire Nation's strongest corporation, led by Emperor Ozai. Most of the setting is skyscrapers, huge power cables and mazes of pipeworks. Hakoda is the leader of resistance but he had disappeared two years ago, leaving his two children with a warning to stay hidden and safe below ground. Their secret hideout is pretty safe and cozy. Of course Sokka and Katara would not sit idly forever! Wandering through the underground they discover an ancient cryo pod, the only active one left. When he comes to himself, Aang realizes that he's the last airbender in the world for the past 1000 years.

The Avatar is able to operate ancient spiritual machines that the Air Nomads tended to. Once he learns all bending types, he'll be able to return airbending to the world through a Harmonic Convergence event by activating a huge lionturtle machine. The problem is - nobody knows where this machine is, but the Avatar is able to "listen" for signs of keyholders and machines through an ancient leftover network. Katara and Sokka swear to aid Aang in achieving this goal and restoring balance to the world. Ever since airbenders disappeared, there had been heavy dissonance in the spirit world, creating terrible natural disasters that altered the face of the planet. They're having difficulty finding the Key holder for Water.... the first one they find is Toph for Earth! She joins the gaang in late season 1 :)

In this AU, there's a tradeoff where the element of kungfu fights is reduced in favour of high-speed chases through the metropolis. Aang (14) moves quickly through the city using only his airbending, by running or speeding on his air sphere. The only piece of new equipment he wears are clear plastic goggles that Sokka (18) gave him. And while you might expect Zuko (19) to be chasing them on a red motorbike, no! It's in fact Katara (17) who's a super-skilled bike driver while Zuko and his entourage are on ROLLERBLADES SKATING ACROSS WALLS AND PIPES. Propulsion via firebending! (same thing Azula does in canon, just elevated to skating). Iroh waits for his nephiew to fail each chase and offer him tea, he's just wearing black dress pants. XD Sokka is Katara's genius engineer brother who constantly grumbles and throws sarcastic remarks because he has to fix her bike after every. single. chase! In this setting, Ozai is specifically looking for the Avatar because he could, using unethical means and technology on a trapped Avatar, be able to grant all bending types to whoever he chooses. This would spell disasteeeer. However, it's also implied that in a similar way, he could "fix" anyone...

Some notes:

You can probably feel the conclusions of many things I left blank. This is on purpose.

Zuko absolutely must have to be motivated by a desire to win his father's approval and love, this must not change. I'll introduce Azula in a later post.

The lionturtle as a concept and its effects are made clear and setup from the get-go. The spiritual machines are just a background element that doesn't affect the plot, it's just a goal.

Aang still has a crush on Katara! And it would be brought up a bit more frequently, in order to serve the plot.

Ozai is doing something concrete that's directly related to Avatar's bending, tying him closer to the Avatar as his antagonist.

This AU's setting is as you may have sensed, more mellow at first. It doesn't have a currently active war.

The characters are older because that feels more fitting to me. (I was investigating W.I.T.C.H. show and saw they were basically all 13 and dating and I was like. "Yikes. No")

Help me dig out any VISUAL references you might remember, from shows of the similar vibe. The goal is not to mimic but to add to the characteristic genre.

These screenshots are from OBAN: STAR RACERS and are what I'd associate with the old Air Nomad technology!

Shape Da Future from Jet Set Radio is precisely what aligned perfectly with this AU.

I'll be sharing more details about this AU in future posts, and everyone is welcome to add their ideas and thoughts on it! I wonder what I forgot to mention here…

#atla sci fi AU #umm let's call it #Last Air Keyholder AU #?????#augh sounds awful

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dfortrafalgar · 5 months

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I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling The Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: Read chapter 1 for warnings.

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men

Chapter 19

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28 hours.

Those were Law’s least favorite shifts. Where his bedroom was a temporary call room with a stiff twin-size mattress and a single flat pillow, and where his companion was his hospital pager and not the warmth of your body next to his. Not like he got much sleep to begin with, not with his pager going off in the ungodly hours of the morning due to the sheer spontaneity of cardiac events.

After 28 long, grueling hours, the warmth of the summer sun finally graced the skin of his exhausted face as he stepped through the hospital’s entrance doors and walked through the parking lot to his car, placing his work bag in the passenger seat. Normally, he’d head straight home to hold you in his arms and bury his face in the flesh of your belly where you were the most soft and warm, but today he had a different plan. From the inside of his bag, he procured a small box, placing it securely in the empty cup holder below the center console before putting his car into gear and driving to his destination.

It didn’t take him too long to get across the city where he miraculously found street parking in front of his destination. He placed the box safely inside the pocket of his slacks, reaching into his car’s ashtray to procure a few coins for the parking meter. Stepping out of his car and onto the sidewalk, he gazed at the sign of the building in front of him.

SABAODY’S JEWELERS

A longtime, family owned business known for their exceptional craftsmanship of handmade jewelry, Law was very familiar with the owners. After all, it was where he had your engagement ring made. He palmed the box in his pocket as he took a deep breath and walked through the entrance.

A black-haired older woman sat behind the front counter, casually flipping through a newspaper as she moved an unlit cigarette around her lips. Her sharp, analytical eyes darted upward at the sound of the bell on the door signaling Law’s entrance. She smiled upon seeing the man, folding the newspaper and uncrossing her legs to stand from the stool she was perched on.

“Trafalgar Law, it’s been a minute! How’ve you been?” She excitedly leaned over the counter, her v-neck tank top revealing a bit more cleavage than Law was comfortable with, but he smiled fondly at her enthusiasm.

“I’ve been well, Shakky, thanks. How’s Rayleigh?” The man kept his hands in his pockets, fidgeting with the box.

“Oh you know, can’t get him to sit down. Not even for a moment,” Shakky joked, removing the unlit cigarette from her lips and placing it on a small napkin behind the checkout register. “How’s the wife?”

Law’s smile grew a bit wider at the mention of you. “We could be better, that’s kind of what I came in here for.”

The older woman’s eyebrows quirked upward in confusion as she watched Law pull the small box from his pocket, opening it and placing it on the counter. Inside was a tiny plastic bag filled about halfway with a dusty, gray powder.

“Are those…” she started.

“Ashes,” Law replied, finishing her sentence for her. “We’ve… uhm… we’ve been having some fertility issues, to keep the story short.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” her voice was quiet and apologetic as she stared down at the tiny bag. It seemed she picked up on what the ashes were from almost immediately, making Law relieved that he wouldn’t have to explain any further, not thrilled about reliving the sight of his dead baby in a bedpan.

“I was wondering if you would be able to make these into two pieces, I’m thinking of a ring and a necklace. I don’t really know how jewelry works, but I figured you’d be able to come up with some ideas,” he offered, keeping his hand on the box as if to protect it.

Shakky’s eyes lit up at the prospect. “Of course I could, I’ve done many cremation pieces before. Do you mind if I take a look at them?” She made a small motion towards the box, catching on to the way Law’s fingers remained positioned around the tiny bag to snatch it away for safekeeping.

He pushed it forward, wordlessly giving her permission. Shakky’s long fingers gently picked up the bag from inside of the box. It was astronomically tiny, the small amount of ashes barely being more than a teaspoon in size. Her heart clenched at the sight. She was always so fond of you and Law, owing the heart surgeon a great deal for assisting with treating her own husband’s atrial fibrillation. To think that such a sweet couple have had to go through something so traumatic, it made her soul weep at the thought.

“I have a fantastic idea,” she piped up, looking at Law. “Come with me to the back, I’ll show you what I’ve got.”

Law followed her as she rounded the counter and trekked through her small storefront, past display tables full of handmade bracelets, earrings, and necklaces. She pushed open a metal door in the far back of the shop, entering what Law presumed to be her workshop, or at least a small part of it. He watched as she placed the box with the ashes down onto the countertop before she approached a small plastic storage container and procured a tiny fabric drawstring bag. She emptied it into the palm of her hand, revealing a small, simple gold ring band with a flat, circular pendant in the middle.

“This was an experiment I was doing with plant ashes, so it’s not for sale, but I’d be able to do something like this. I melted down glass, mixed the ashes into the glass, and cooled and shaped it to fit into the face of this ring, similar to a gemstone. I’m able to change the color of the glass depending on what you might want,” she explained, moving the ring around under the light so Law could get a good look at the details. “Considering how there’s… well… not many ashes, I think this might be the best choice.”

The tiny piece of jewelry was indeed quite beautiful, even if it was just an artistic test. The way the ashes were embedded into the colorful glass gave it a quartz-like appearance that glittered under the fluorescent lights of Shakky’s work room.

“What kind of colors can you do?” he asked, officially intrigued.

“All kinds, but I typically do white and blue for glass pieces,” she offered. “The blue is a light, sky blue color, similar to an aquamarine.”

Law nodded, contemplating. “Are you able to do one that’s more plain?”

“I’m able to do whatever your little heart wants,” she teased.

The black-haired man grinned. “Can you do blue glass for the ring and white for the necklace? The necklace is for me,” he asked, tracing his collarbone with the pads of his fingers.

Shakky smiled from ear to ear, clutching her test ring in her palm as she excitedly nodded. “Law, dear, I’d be honored to do this for you and your wife. If you want to hang around, I can have them done in about two hours.”

“That quick?” he asked, exasperated. “I don’t want you to have to drop your current work just for me.”

“Boy, did you see me doing work when you walked in? If you call doing the daily crossword ‘work’ then I’m concerned about what you do on your breaks!” She tossed a joking smile at the man as she slipped her test ring back into its fabric bag, placing it back into the storage container it came from.

“I’ll meet you by the front to pay–” Law began before Shakky cut him off.

“Nope, on the house.”

“Shakky, this is work,” he argued.

“It might be, but this is special for you and your wife. Consider this part of a gift from me for all you’ve done for myself and my family,” she said, her words laced with tenderness. “If you really want to repay me so badly, bring me a six pack later tonight before I close.”

Law smirked. “You got yourself a deal.”

Shakky sealed their arrangement with a hearty, friendly smack to his shoulder, making him wince slightly. She was far stronger than her outward appearance let on. “See you in two hours, kid.”

Law exited her back room, making his way past her various display tables and shelves to the front of the store before exiting out the front. He pulled his phone from his pocket, navigating to your contact and calling your cell phone.

It rang about three times before the receiver clicked and your voice spoke through the speaker.

[Hi, baby! Are you on your way home?]

Law thought you must have had some form of supernatural ability, the way your voice was able to consistently brighten his day every time he heard you. “I’m actually downtown, are you free right now?”

Small shuffling sounds could be heard in the background. [Once I’m done cleaning out the cabinets I will be! Do you wanna meet somewhere?]

The man chuckled. “Why are you cleaning out the cabinets?”

[I was bored and didn’t want to be alone with my own thoughts.] You had a point.

“Well stop cleaning, meet me at Cafe Brook. I want to see you,” he chided through the phone, his voice giving away the smile on his face as he spoke to you.

[Aye aye, captain! I’ll see you in a bit, I love you!]

“Love you, too, baby,” he replied before the call was cut off. He shoved his phone into his pocket and began the short walk to the agreed upon location.

—

Law was waiting outside the restaurant for you and grinned as you approached, a sundress adorning your body and your bag slung over your shoulder as you walked with a slight skip in your step. While your husband wasn’t much for PDA, that didn’t stop you from taking his hands in yours and pressing a tender kiss to the corner of his lips.

“Hi,” you said with a small giggle.

“Hi,” he replied, wrapping his arm around your waist to guide you into the small cafe.

It was late in the morning nearing the end of the brunch hour, so many of the tables were empty leaving you and Law with a wonderful table in the corner by the sunlit window. You hung your bag on the back of your chair before you took your seat, adjusting your dress under your legs while Law immediately took a sip of the complimentary tap water on the table.

“This was such a nice surprise!” you said, jovially. “Why were you downtown?”

Your husband shrugged, keeping his smile content, trying to hold in what he was scheming. “Just had to run some errands, that’s all.”

You rested your head in the palm of your hand on the table, your eyes gazing at him knowingly. “You’re not trying to surprise me, are you?”

“I would never. You don’t need surprises,” he replied, tossing a mischievous smirk at you.

You laughed, poking your tongue out at him. “Well, whatever you were doing, I’m always happy to get brunch with you. Especially after such a long shift… how was it, by the way?” Your own hand clutched your cup of water, your fingers releasing some of the condensation and causing droplets of water to flow down the outside of the glass.

Law groaned as a response to your question, making you smile sympathetically. “28 hours of pain,” he griped. “Everyone always waits until three in the morning to have urgent health issues.”

You reached your hand across the table to pat his forearm. He responded by adjusting his arm so his hand could hold yours. “Well, now you have two days off!”

A waiter came by and passed out some small paper menus, but the two of you almost immediately decided on what to order. A plate of curly fries to split, a hearty breakfast sampler for Law after having eaten very little in the last 28 hours, and a toasted blueberry muffin for you. A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you gazed around the interior of the restaurant. The entire joint was trying to be old-school rock and roll themed, but it harshly clashed with the rustic wooden entryway and wall sidings. The entire establishment was a strange cacophony of design choices, made even more humorous with the multiple posters and framed platinum records of the famed jazz musician Soul King Brook, who’s name was the inspiration for the establishment. (No one actually knew if Brook had anything to do with the place, though.)

“Hey, remember how my friends came over last week and left that basket of stuff?” you asked, alerting Law’s worried attention from the frightening poster of the almost skeletonized pop star.

“Yeah, what about?” he asked, giving you his full regard.

“So I was actually texting Vivi again yesterday,” you stated. “She gave me the names of a few counselors in the area who specialize with women’s health and pregnancy issues… and I think I’m going to try one of them out just to see what’s up.”

Law straightened his shoulders. “That… sounds like a fantastic idea.”

“You think?” you asked, slightly nervous about his opinion.

“Of course, I think that’d be really good for you to help you adjust to everything that’s happened,” he clarified.

You smiled, feeling your chest flutter with his support. “If my first appointment goes well, would you want to maybe come with me?” you asked. “I mean… you know… you deserve support, too.”

Law felt his own chest clench at your words. You were right, he was just as damaged as you were over the whole situation. His mind flashed back to Shakky’s jewelry store, where the woman was most likely hunched over her work table shaping hot glass as they spoke. He nodded slowly, albeit enthusiastically. “I think that would help me a lot, if I went with you.”

“Even just to talk everything out with a professional,” you added, hoping to solidify his decision.

Your husband nodded once again. “Exactly.”

The smile you gave to the man made his face flush with heat. Your beaming grin, a sight he seemed to have missed more often since your second miscarriage, the smile that bore the heat of one thousand suns and yet filled his entire soul with the fuzzy comfort that only you could provide. He fell in love with you more and more each time he saw that brilliant smile.

Your food came out from the kitchen and was passed toward you, Law’s mouth instantly beginning to salivate at the sight of the greasy bacon and eggs spread out on the porcelain, next to a generous helping of homefries and whole wheat toast. He watched with a small smile as you took a delighted bite out of your blueberry muffin that was cut in half down the middle and slathered with a smear of butter on each side.

—

“Law, why are we at Sabaody’s?” you asked, your voice riddled with skepticism as your husband led you by your hand the few blocks it took to get from the restaurant to the jeweler’s. Law had received a text during your meal that made him appear jumpy, and he remained that way until you had finished eating and paid the bill.

“No reason,” he replied, the weakest excuse known to man as he pushed open the door to the storefront, beckoning you inside.

Shakky rounded the corner out of her work room, smiling upon seeing you. She held two boxes in her hands, but quickly placed them safely in a small brown paper bag which she promptly handed to Law.

“Oh, dear, it’s so good to see you!” she called, making you smile as she dipped down for a friendly hug.

“You too, Shakky! How’s your husband?” you asked, figuring the same question must have been asked by your own man.

“Constantly running at 100% capacity,” she responded with a sarcastic eye roll. She turned her attention back to Law and tossed him a wink. “All set!”

“Thank you so much, Shakky, I really appreciate it,” he answered, reaching over the checkout counter to shake her hand.

You watched their interaction with profound confusion. “What are you two scheming without me?”

“Nothing,” the older woman responded, a coy grin on her face as she waved the two of you out of the storefront.

Law kept the bag clenched in his hand as he walked, his opposite hand holding you as he led you back to his car.

“Law, I parked down the road,” you indicated, but he quickly opened his passenger side door and ushered you inside.

“I know, but this is important,” he uttered. His words sounded rushed, almost panicky, making worry begin to sprout in your mind. What in the world had he done?

You watched as he rounded the front of his car and plopped himself into his driver's seat, closing and locking the doors around you with the switch below the handle. He nervously fumbled with the bag, pulling out the two boxes that had been handed to him by the older woman.

“So… I… uhm…” he was frantically tripping over his words, a far cry from the man you had met for brunch almost three hours prior. “I might have gone behind your back and done something.”

You stared at him with concern. “... Okay…?”

Law’s hands were slightly trembling as he opened the smaller box, revealing a brilliant silver banded ring with a small blue glass pendant in the middle. It glittered in the sunlight, the tiny but stunning faux gem casting blue hues reflected from the sun on the top lid of the box. He passed it over to you, watching as you gently took it in your hands and gazed with wide eyes at the subtle piece of jewelry.

“Law…?” You looked over at him as he opened the second box, revealing a similar small pendant necklace on a thick, sturdy silver chain. The stone on the necklace was a simple white stone that looked similar to an opal.

“At the hospital, after you fell asleep and before we went home that night, I tracked down the nurse that took our baby and asked her to bring me to the mortuary to have someone cremate him,” he explained. “His ashes are in the jewelry.”

Your eyes were wide as you took in his words, gazing back at the bright blue glass pendant on the ring. Your voice was trembling as you struggled for words. “You… it…”

Law reached his shaking hands over to you, pulling the ring out of the box and taking your right hand in his. He slipped the ring over your right-hand ring finger, feeling inwardly satisfied as it fit perfectly on your digit. He laced his hand with yours, your eyes never tearing away from the pendant on the ring.

“I got the ring for you, and the necklace for me,” he whispered, leaning closer to you over the center console.

Your eyes darted upward to meet his own, tears brimming in the corners as you bit your wobbling lip. With a blubbery laugh, you gave him a small, playful shove on his shoulder. “You need to stop making me cry!”

Law chuckled himself, pulling you in for an uncomfortable hug over the center compartment in his car. You eagerly wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your head into the junction of his neck. He could feel your smile on his skin as you sniffled into his shirt.

“Law…” you mumbled, pulling away from him to gaze at the ring. “I can’t… I can’t believe it…”

Your husband was smiling, a content grin that held the same amount of sadness that you still felt in your heart after losing your unborn 12-week-old. His attention was torn from your soft face as you reached over for the other box in his lap, pulling out the necklace and unlatching the clasp. Your hands trailed around his neck to link the chain around him, watching with fondness as the white pendant sat perfectly in between his collarbones.

“Looks good on you…” you sighed, your hands tracing the tan skin around the pendant, the feeling making goosebumps rise on Law’s skin. “Our baby…”

“Now he’ll still be with us wherever we go,” he whispered.

You wiped away your tears with the collar of your dress. “When did you get so sappy?” you asked, jokingly.

Law grinned. “Well, admittedly, one of my nurses gave me the idea. She told me her sister lost a pregnancy, and they had the remains cremated and made into little rocks that they spread through their favorite hiking trail.”

“That’s so beautiful,” you cooed, your tears slowing down. The new ring on your finger brought you a strange sense of comfort you had yet to feel, something almost akin to closure. It was a small patch in the cracks that made up your broken heart, cracks that your husband was slowly learning to rebuild, and that you were doing to his own.

“God,” you sighed, leaning back in your seat. “What did I do to deserve you?”

Law’s hand brushed over your cheek. “I should be asking the same thing.”

You stared blankly out the front windshield before asking, “Can we just have Shachi or Penguin pick up my car? I don’t want to leave you.”

Your sudden question made Law snort out a laugh as he pulled out his phone. “I’d be more than happy to ask, my love.”

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #i'm losing you

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teacasket · 3 months

Text

spilled

genre: fluff au: non idol au warnings: none word count: 0.6k pairing: gn!reader x bang chan

Even with your thumb sealing the top, your straw still won’t go through the thick lid. You raise your arm higher, aim, and stab at your drink again, but that only results in a bent straw. Someone behind you murmurs something inaudible over the crowd of customers, and your ears burn. You’ve been standing at the pick-up counter for at least a minute, fighting with plastic.

“45!”

You step farther to the side to let the person grab their order. They take a straw from the holder, and you do the same.

“46 and 47!”

Another small step to the side. With envy, you watch from your periphery as they easily punch their straw through the covered hole on the lid. Why new tea houses won’t stick with the traditional cheap plastic sealing is beyond you, but you suppose it’s a reason why they charge more.

“48! Hey, do you need help?”

You startle at the voice. The barista, the cute one who didn’t take your order today but did last time, gestures at your cup. You feel your blush traveling down to your neck.

“You’ve been here for a while. I can give you a hand, if you want.”

You shake your head and peel back the paper holder of your fresh straw. “I’ve got it, thanks.”

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything.”

You smile gratefully and turn your attention back to your drink. Help—you don’t need help. All you need is a good, forceful hit.

One, two, three!

Something pops, and a flood of green rushes down the counter. You instinctively step back to protect your white shoes and finally realize that you’re holding the source of the mess. A black straw pokes out through both ends of your cup.

A good, forceful hit was what you asked for.

“Sorry,” you say, repeating it every single person standing behind you. Miraculously, no one got hurt or stained.

You grab a wad of napkins and try to start cleaning up. Ordering something with matcha was a mistake; it all looks like milky slime or snot. No one tries to help. They couldn’t anyway since there’s barely any room for them to do so. The air conditioning in the shop isn’t enough to cool down your embarrassment.

When you reach to get another stack of napkins, the same barista comes to the counter to ask, “Everything okay?”

You hold up your mangled cup as an explanation. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t worry. I can remake your order,” he says. “What was it?”

“Uh, thanks, but everything spilled. The counter and the floor—it’s all over. I’m really sorry about that. I probably should’ve let you help me.”

He cracks a smile. “I’ll get someone on it. What was your order?”

You tell him and wedge yourself into the nearest corner as another employee comes out the back with a mop and a bright yellow sign. You scroll on your phone, trying to appear invisible. Everyone knows it was your fault. Hell, you even saw someone point in your direction. You keep your head buried as you wait.

“Matcha green tea latte, no ice and 75% sweetness.”

You walk to the second register which has been repurposed as the pick-up counter.

“I already put your straw in for you,” the barista says. “A lot of people struggle with it, too.”

You doubt they do, but it’s sweet that he’s trying to console you. “Thanks. Sorry again about the mess. Do you guys have a tip jar or something? I didn’t see one around.”

“It’s built into the payment system. You can leave us a review and mention me and Jisung, though. Say we did a good job or something. You can keep it vague.”

“Sure. What’s your name?”

“Chan. I’ll see you around.”

You smile and say goodbye. Cute as he is, you can never come back here. You’ll leave a nice review, but dear God, you are never coming back.

#stray kids #skz #bang chan #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #bang chan x reader #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #bang chan imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #bang chan scenarios #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #bang chan fluff #stray kids au #skz au #non idol au

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ccpdisplays · 2 years

Photo

Plastic sign holders are versatile tools that are widely used in various settings such as retail stores, restaurants, and offices. Here are some of their uses: Advertising and marketing, Informational displays, Menu displays, Organizational purposes, Events and presentations etc. Overall, plastic sign holders are a cost-effective and flexible solution for displaying signs and information in a wide range of settings.

#Plastic Sign Holder #sign holder #wall mount sign holder #acrylic riser

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teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps · 8 months

Text

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ataliagold · 2 months

Text

the edges of your soul i haven't seen yet

This came from wanting to expand on the ideas in 'you're the only one who knows, you slow it down', but consider this a new fic with very similar ideas. I'm not sure how long it'll be yet, but here's the first chapter. Title from Forever by Noah Kahan.

Also on AO3 here.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: T (currently)

Tags: modern au, no upside down, autistic steve, steve has a service cat, eddie and steve fall in love while working at a farmers' market, stimming, autistic meltdowns/shutdowns/stimming, platonic soulmates steve and robin, eddie is a sweetheart

Summary: Eddie's reluctantly helping Wayne with his produce stall at the farmers' market. He's resigned himself to a boring summer - until a new face shows up at the market to run a baking stall with his best friend. Steve is...odd, like no one Eddie's ever met.

And it doesn't take him long to fall head over heels for him.

___

Chapter One

Eddie isn’t particularly enjoying his morning.

Not yet, anyway.

He grunts as Wayne loads another box into his arms, adjusting his footing under the weight of the produce, of apples and pears, oranges and grapefruit, of avocados and sweet potatoes and carrots and lettuces…

“Right, that’s the last of it,” Wayne announces, dusting his hands off and locking his pick-up behind him.

“Thank fuck,” Eddie grumbles. He makes his way towards their stall, cursing as he trips a little and loses an apple or two. There’s sweat dripping down his spine already, this summer proving to be particularly hot and humid even at eight fucking thirty a.m.

But Eddie had promised Wayne he’d help him out at the farmers’ market this weekend, since he had nothing better on, since his friends had actually gotten in to colleges and were busy getting ready to move away, since Eddie had been sort of…left behind, with nothing to do but trail after his uncle like a bad smell.

He does as he’s told. Sets the boxes down where Wayne points, helps him set the produce out, puts the little cardboard signs with the prices scribbled on them at the front of the table.

Once that’s finished, Eddie sinks into a plastic camp chair with a sigh, reaching for an apple and loudly crunching into it, ignoring the half-hearted glare Wayne shoots back at him.

There’s only a couple of people here this early – mostly other stall-holders setting up, the occasional dog-walker taking a non-committal glance at the wares, an old lady or two with purses clutched close to their middles.

It’s gonna be a boring morning.

Eddie chucks his headphones on, cranks the music as loud as he’ll get away with, and settles in for several hours of withering in the heat and making sure no one pockets an extra pear.

Eventually, his gaze wanders.

Wayne’s talking to a customer, something about the growing season for oranges or some shit, when Eddie claps eyes on the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen.

He sits up. Swallows, stares because he can’t help it.

There’s a literal god unfolding a table not far away, placing a thin yellow blanket on the top, smoothing it out just so. He’s about Eddie’s age, all olive skin dotted with moles and broad shoulders and golden hair that’s fallen effortlessly into place. Glasses frame his face, his perfect fucking face with those pink lips and square jaw, and even from here Eddie can see the look of concentration on the boy’s face, his brows slightly drawn together as he tucks the blanket in at the corners, as he readjusts several times to make sure it’s completely straight on the table.

A light smack to his knee jolts Eddie out of his daze, forces him to drag his gaze reluctantly back to Wayne. Wayne, who’s frowning at him, shaking his head.

“Turn your damn music down, Eds,” Wayne huffs, “need ya to dig me out some change.”

Eddie doesn’t argue. Lets Wayne believe he was distracted by his music, not by the boy several stalls over.

He rifles through their tin of change, picking out a few quarters, and then sneaks a look back again.

The boy’s bent over the table, light-wash jeans pulled tight across his ass, and Eddie’s pretty sure he’s openly gaping at the guy right now but he can’t fucking help it. It’s a baking stall, by the look of the cupcakes and cookies the boy’s currently placing out on the table, tongue poking ever so slightly out of his mouth as he works. The boy pauses for a moment in front of the table, as if assessing his wares for anything out of place.

“Eddie!” Wayne says again, exasperated. “You got that change, or what?”

Eddie snaps his mouth shut. Turns back to Wayne, hands him the change which his uncle takes with a shake of his head. Once the customer has left with a paper bag of carrots in hand, Eddie makes a decision.

“You want a cookie?” he asks Wayne.

“Huh?”

“A cookie,” Eddie repeats, slowly.

Wayne looks down at his watch. “It’s barely gone nine a.m.”

“So? I’m getting one. You want one, or not?”

After Wayne declines, Eddie heads off with a shrug, making straight for the tall boy still frowning down at his baking, thumb drawing anxious patterns on his index finger.

As he approaches, Eddie’s words die in his throat.

He’d planned on flirting. Was ready to try and charm the pants right off this boy, as quickly as he decently could.

But the closer he got, the more the butterflies began in his stomach.

Because somehow, he only got more attractive with every step Eddie took.

And yeah, he wasn’t usually one for ironed polos and blue jeans and bright white Nikes that looked meticulously clean, but Eddie’s cheeks were reddening and his heart was pounding when he reached the stall.

The boy didn’t turn around at his approach.

Not until Eddie clears his throat a little awkwardly, hand brushing over the back of his neck. Sheepish. Shy. Two things he’s never been in his whole fucking life.

“Uh…hi,” Eddie starts.

The boy’s eyes widen behind his glasses. His hands grasp each other, almost frantically, and his gaze darts from Eddie, to the table, to somewhere off behind him. He opens his mouth briefly, but closes it again without speaking.

Huh, Eddie thinks.

Well, maybe the guy’s even shyer than he is right now.

Eddie tries again. “I saw you setting up, looks good. The…the baking, I mean, not…not you setting up. Well, that too, honestly, but I thought…” Eddie trails off, internally kicking himself.

You fucking idiot, Munson.

The boy blinks at him.

When he still doesn’t speak, Eddie shifts from foot to foot a little, then finally steps over to the table.

“Well, I’m just gonna have a look, if that’s ok?”

The boy nods. Quick, his head jerking a little, the movement stiff and awkward.

Eddie feels his eyes boring into his back as he scans the table. There’s cupcakes with piped-on frosting in several different patterns but all of them yellow, matching the boy’s soft polo that was clinging unfairly to his chest. There’s slices of brownies, cookies of varying flavours, apple pie and cinnamon donuts and red velvet cake and shortbread…

“Did you make all of these?” Eddie asks, a little in awe.

Polo-boy nods, not meeting Eddie’s eye. He’s wringing his hands, clenching his jaw, repeatedly glancing over Eddie’s shoulder as if he’s looking for someone.

“Shit, that’s…there’s so much different stuff here, how long did it take you?” And Eddie’s genuinely curious, he’s not just talking for the sake of it, for the purpose of squeezing at least a word or two out of this guy. Because everything on that table was meticulous – the cookies perfectly round, the pie sliced into completely even pieces, not even a stray dribble of batter or frosting on the cupcake liners (also yellow, Eddie noted) – there’s so much effort gone into this, and Eddie’s impressed.

The boy wants to speak, it looks like.

Eddie waits while he opens and closes his mouth a few times, flapping a hand in front of him.

“Hey Stevie, everything ok?”

A girl wanders over with several cake boxes in her arms, glancing between Stevie and Eddie. She’s got short hair, a dusting of freckles across her face, and a yellow top on to match the boy in front of Eddie, who relaxes a tiny bit as soon as he sees her.

He nods, but doesn’t stop clenching his hands together over his stomach.

The girl puts the boxes down, and steps over to the boy.

“Hey, it’s ok,” she murmurs softly, “we talked about this, remember? You’re fine, just…take a breath, ok?”

Eddie turns away from them. Senses this isn’t a conversation meant for him, and brings his attention back to the table, pretending he’s just…really interested in cupcakes all of a sudden. But he’s only a couple of feet away, and the girl doesn’t seem to care that he can overhear.

“Has he asked to buy something?”

“No.”

It’s the first time Eddie’s heard the boy speak. His voice is quiet, not much above a whisper, but Eddie wants to hear more of it.

“He wanted to know how long it took me,” the boy continues, “to make everything.”

“Ok…so did you answer?”

“No. Wanted to.”

“Your words get stuck?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Well, that’s ok. Here, I’ll help you.”

“Robin -”

“You gotta try, Stevie. You can do it, come on.”

Eddie turns back to them as Robin tows the guy – Stevie? – over by his sleeve.

“Hi.” She grins at Eddie, and the boy stands slightly behind her, looking down at his feet. “This is Steve, I’m Robin. It’s our first time at a market and Steve’s kinda nervous. Can we help you with anything?”

Eddie’s eyes flick back to Steve, to his red cheeks and long eyelashes. His heart thuds in his chest.

He smiles at them. “I’m Eddie, my uncles got a stall just over there.” He jabs his thumb over his shoulder. “We sell fruit and shit. This is really your first day? Your set up is…really nice.”

“Thanks.” Robin beams even wider. “It was all Steve really, he did all the baking too, I’m just here to help out.”

Eddie nods slowly. Steve’s still avoiding his eye, no matter how much Eddie tries to catch it.

Swallowing his disappointment, he points to one of the chocolate chip cookies on the table.

“Can I get one of those, please?”

Robin nods briskly. “Steve, can you sort that?” She nudges him slightly in the side, and Steve springs into action, seemingly happy to give his hands something to do as he grabs a paper bag and looks around the table for something.

He freezes suddenly.

Robin’s back at his side immediately.

“Everything ok?” she asks quietly.

He shakes his head, flaps a hand at the table, face drawn tight in a frown.

“Where’s the…” he mumbles, trailing off.

“The what?” Robin prompts.

Steve bites his bottom lip, hands finding his thighs and tugging at his jeans, frustrated. Seemingly unable to find the word, he brings a hand up to chest height and makes a little snapping motion with his fingers.

“…tongs?” Robin guesses, and Steve nods briskly. “Maybe we left them in the car? I’ll go have a look.”

“It’s fine, you can just use your fingers,” Eddie offers, because he truly couldn’t care less.

Steve shakes his head vehemently, face tightening even further.

“Or…I could grab it?” Eddie tries, but Steve shakes his head again, looking so distressed that Eddie shuts up.

There’s a meow from somewhere behind the table.

A black and white cat emerges from under it, a red collar around its neck, and approaches Steve confidently, pressing up against his legs.

Steve ignores the cat, at first.

He’s digging a thumbnail into the meat of his palm, shuffling from foot to foot every so often, dragging a lip so hard between his teeth that Eddie’s worried he’s gonna make it bleed, and Eddie isn’t sure what to do. He wants to help, wants to somehow soothe the boy, but he isn’t sure how, thinks if he gets any closer to him he’ll only make things worse.

The cats meows again. Presses itself harder up against Steve, stretches up so its little front paws are against his thigh, kneading insistently, refusing to be ignored.

Steve sags a little. Reaches down with a trembling hand, strokes it across the cat’s head, and Eddie can hear the rumbling purr start up from the little creature. He watches as Steve loosens up, as his fingers unclench and his teeth release his lip and the frown fades slowly from his lovely face.

Robin returns, snapping the tongs triumphantly, and hands them to Steve.

He takes them happily and returns to his task, placing Eddie’s chosen cookie into the bag with more care than Eddie’s ever seen from someone serving him food before.

Eddie takes the offered bag, the divine scent wafting out and making his mouth water. Wayne was going to regret not asking for one, he knows.

Steve looks up, catches his eye for the tiniest moment, then his gaze ducks away.

“Thanks, Steve,” Eddie says softly. “This smells great, seriously. And if you guys need anything,” he looks over to Robin to include her, too, “come see me at the fruit stall, I’m just over there.” He points in the direction of Wayne, who’s no doubt getting grumpier by the minute at Eddie’s absence.

Please come, Eddie begs silently, eyeing Steve one last time before he turns away.

“Three days,” Steve blurts out as Eddie starts to walk away.

Eddie pauses, turns back to him.

Steve’s eyes are fixed on his shoes again, and he rocks back and forth on his heels slightly. Robin glances between the two of them, then looks hopefully back at Steve.

Eddie frowns slightly, about to question him, when Steve speaks again.

“It took me three days. To bake everything. Wanted it all to be perfect.”

Eddie smiles, wide and warm.

“It is, Steve.”

___

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #autistic steve harrinton #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson

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that-disabled-princess · 13 days

Text

Random bedroom things poll

Thanks for the tag @bazzybelle! What a fun tag game to do while recovering from an event 🥰

Rules: Pick stuff from your room and have people vote on which one they want to take home.

The RHPS fic in question by the brilliant @skeedelvee with cover art by @stardustasincocaine.

Tagging Skee, stardustasincocaine, and @hoothalcyon @valeffelees @no-cinnamon-for-synonym @stitchy-queerista @nausikaaa

@iamamythologicalcreature @confused-bi-queer 💖💖

#tag game #polls

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emmymaehereeeeee · 1 year

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Imagine Aus doing school drop off and it being kind of a disaster of a morning and he's considering giving up and being like "okay fuck this let's go to the park" and there's tantrums like "I wanted MOMMY to take me to school!"

oh my lord this has been in my drafts for ages I apologize for this being sorta wonky i wrote it at 4am😭😭

“Clara you have to wear shoes, no do not throw them at me- that’s it!” Austin bent over and picked the little girl up. “There is no reason for you to be acting like this.”

Clara with a face full of determination thrashed her little body around in her father’s arms and wailed, “No no no!” She screamed out, “I want mommy!” Running a hand down his face Austin huffed, “Clara Butler! We do not hit or kick people, that hurts and it is not nice,” he pulled open the car door and attempted to settle her into her carseat. “Quit kicking me,” he grumbled as he buckled her in.

“Momma! Mommaa!” Clara wailed out and pounded her tiny hands against the plastic cup holders.

Austin sighed and took her hands in his, “Now you listen here young lady- I don’t know what the problem is but you need to quit your yelling, do you understand me?”

Clara stared back at her father for a moment, “I don’t want you- I want momma!” She spat out.

“Well momma isn’t here right now, I’m sorry,” he replied then shut the door. Clara began to kick the back of his seat and Austin leaned his head down on the steering wheel, “Clara, please- just stop?”

The five year old’s tantrum showed no signs of slowing down despite her father’s pleas. “MOMMA! I WANT MOMMA!!!” She screamed out at the top of lungs, her face now turning a shade of red.

“Alright! What if I take you to the park after school? We can get ice cream?” He asked as he turned around to face her.

“I want my momma-“

“Alright! You want momma so bad- Jesus, fine momma and I will take you to the park after school if you behave the rest of the day, that means no more hitting or kicking daddy- you understand?” He asked with a newfound tone of sternness.

“And we get ice cream,” Clara replied softly

“And we get ice cream,” Austin repeated as he slowly began to back out of the driveway.

tags: surprise ya’ll i wrote something ☹️

@arianatheangel-girl @lillypink @steph-speaks @crash-and-cure @18lkpeters @jahayla-parker @flwersgarden @prayerstopresley @insanelycrazyanddelusional

#austin butler #emmymaewrites💜#austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #austin butler dad #Dad! Austin Butler #dad!austin #emmy mae actually wrote something in over a month 😫

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softly-potter · 5 months

Text

Last Forever

Summary: Weiss is sick and hospitalized, and her wife pays her a visit.

Inspired by the series finale of How I Met Your Mother

Pairing: Ruby X Weiss

Word Count: 1,123

Warning: brief description of illness

A/N: Since every character in RWBY is named after a fairytale, I made Arial after Ariel in 'The Little Mermaid' and Gothic after Mother Gothial in 'Tangeled' :)

Ruby hated hospitals.

Since a young age, she couldn't stand them, ever since she went to visit her sister after Yang had fallen during soccer practice and broken her arm. Yang had to spend nearly a week in the ER, and Summer had dutifully brought Ruby to visit a few times. The place was stony, smelling of bleach and stale bread, and the nurses were always on the verge of shouting expletives at everyone in their field of vision. The machines were making a constant sound, each other differing from one another, and doors all looked the same aside from the names tagged on the plastic holder, repeating down a seemingly never ending hallway.

Ruby had hated every second of it.

Now, she didn’t mind them so much, aside from the plastic holder.

The smell of bleach meant that Weiss’s room was clean. The cranky nurses meant that she was being taken care of when Ruby was caught up with work or with the kids. The beeps on the machines meant that Weiss was still alive, still clinging to health with the assistance of technology.

The plastic holder with their last name in it meant Weiss was still sick.

Gripping her briefcase with her right hand, Ruby opened the door with her left, making sure the smile on her face was still intact. From her bed, Weiss stared out the window, her blue eyes unfocused and her hands limp at her sides. When she heard the door, she turned her head, and a little bit of life came back to her eyes as she spotted Ruby.

“Hi honey, how was work?”

The question was a simple one, as if this is how their days had always ended, Ruby visiting the hospital after getting off of work, but it brings tears to her eyes because that is not how their days had ended.

It used to be that Ruby would enter the bustle of their busy home, scoop up their daughters and listen to them recount their days as she unwound. After freshening up, Ruby used to help Weiss set the table for dinner, and they would all sit together as they ate, Arial and Gothial chattering away.

It seemed so long ago, how had it only been a few months that all that had changed?

“It was work,” Ruby sighed, putting her briefcase down to lean against the edge of Weiss’s hospital bed. “But I did sign off on the plans for that new building so we’re making headway.”

Sitting down on her designated chair, Ruby scooted it forward just a bit, and laced her hands with Weiss’s. Weiss squeezed it, and Ruby ignored how weak her wife’s grip felt. “That's wonderful, Rose.”

Ruby grinned, casting her eyes down. She couldn't help it, that nickname always invoked a schoolgirl emotion that made her head spin.

Looking up, Ruby raised a brow. “Harass any nurses today?”

Weiss rolled her eyes. “I can't help it if I know how to do their job better than them.”

“True, but it is their job, not yours.” Ruby countered and Weiss shrugged with a grin, and then her eyes narrowed.

“They’re disappearing.” Weiss said softly, her face changing to a frown.

“The nurses?”

“No.” Weiss replied, and turned her neck, looking away. “Your smile lines. I always…loved those about you. And they’re fading.”

Ruby inhaled sharply, squeezing Weiss’s hand.

They’re quiet for a moment, aside from the gentle beep of her breathing machine and Ruby allowed her eyes to wander over Weiss’s neck and face.

In the past few months, Weiss had lost a substantial amount of weight and it was beginning to be apparent, the tendons in her neck straining, her jaw sharper, her eyes deeper.

“I’ll bring Arial and Gothial to visit tomorrow,” Ruby said, hoping to put Weiss in a better mood. “Think it’d do them some good.”

Without opening her eyes, Weiss nodded. “Please do. I miss them.”

Ruby nodded, raised Weiss’s hand to her mouth and began to press feather light kisses to her knuckles. Weiss gave a little sigh, the sound one of contentment, and she turned her head back to Ruby.

“I’m a little tired,” She whispered. “If I fall asleep, can you turn the light out?”

“Of course.” Ruby replied, and Weiss gave her a thin smile before shutting her eyes once more.

Pressing another kiss on Weiss’s thumb, Ruby squeezed her eyes shutting, willing herself not to cry.

Crying didn't help. Crying didn’t make Weiss better.

Instead, Ruby gently placed Weiss’s hand down, before taking out her wife’s favorite book from her briefcase. Clearing her throat, Ruby began to read, keeping her voice low, pressing her thumb between the pages.

Weiss opened her eyes, her pale lips forming into a smile as she listened before closing once more, inhaling through her nose.

As Ruby read, she held Weiss by the wrist, her fingers encircling her wife’s easily.

Eventually her breathing shifted deeper, and Ruby knew Weiss was asleep. She closed the book, dog-earring the page, and placed it back in her briefcase.

Standing, she gripped the metal pull of the lamp before looking down at Weiss’s sleeping form, and letting out a soft hum.

“You’re still pretty,” Ruby murmured, and pulled the light switch. “So so pretty.”

Bending, she pressed a long kiss to Weiss’s forehead, before collecting her items and quietly leaving the hospital.

“How was she today?” Yang asked, putting another clean dish onto the dry rack. Ruby sat on the island chairs, her legs crossed at the ankles.

“Tired,” Ruby said honestly. “She just seemed really drained, Yang.”

Yang gave a sad expression and turned off the water faucet, coming around the table and putting her arm across Ruby's shoulders in a side hug.

“Weiss is strong.” Yang said, giving Ruby a little shake.

“I know, I know,” Ruby said with a slight wave of her hand. She had heard this all before, especially when Weiss had first gotten sick. “Thanks again for watching the kids.”

“Of course,” Yang said and returned to the sink. “They’re only little terrors when they’re awake.” Ruby exhaled in agreement, and Yang began to wash another plate. “Besides, if Weiss is anything like those kids, she’s gonna be fine.”

Ruby smiled. “She said she missed them today.”

Yang raised a brow with a knowing grin. “See? Told ya.”

Ruby rolled her eyes, picking up a fork and made an attempt to eat the food in front of her, pushing the broccoli around her plate.

“She has to,” Ruby said quietly, and over the running water, Yang couldn’t hear her. She placed a fork full in her mouth, swallowing, before adding in an even lower tone. “We’re meant to last forever.”

#ruby rose rwby #whiterose #ruby and weiss #rwby #whiterose fanfiction #blurb #rwby fanfiction

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