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bunnys-kisses · 2 months

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bunny's bakery orders - masterlist

updated: 08-17-24

hey, this is an attempt to make a masterlist of my works, i'm starting with my bakery series (since it is a smaller body of work)! these will be updated as more requests get filled! please note that all the works are smutty in content, so please read warnings and tags!

if you love these orders, feel free to read the submission post and order your own! i love the ones i've received so far and i can't wait to work on them! so please, submit all you want!

order up!

❀ call of duty ❀

phillip graves: berry trifle ("wrong. try again.") + champagne (sugar daddy situation)

simon 'ghost' riley: chocolate chip cookies ("you're beautiful when you smile, but you're the prettiest when my cock is in your throat") + bubble tea (daddy kink)

könig: croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + crepe ("pretty girl.") + mille-feuille (“that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”) + champagne (sugar daddy)

john price: mille-feuille (“that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”) + mocha coffee (breeding kink)

simon 'ghost' riley: s'more ("The accent gets to you, doesn't it?") + chocolate milk (tenderness) + champagne (sugar daddy au)

john price: s'mores ("The accent gets to you, doesn't it?") + milkshakes (size kink)

simon 'ghost' riley: pound cake with strawberries ("you know i hate going over rules, but just because i like seeing you embarrassed, i'll tell you them again.") + bubble tea (daddy kink)

❀ formula one ❀

max verstappen: mill-feuille (“that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”) + vodka shot (rough sex)

max verstappen: banana bread ("i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name.") + croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour)

lando norris: vanilla cheesecake ("where are your manners?") + tea (semi-public/public sex)

lando norris: mille-feuille (“that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”) + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour)

lando norris: carrot cake ("swallow it. all of it.") + chocolate chip cookie ("you're beautiful when you smile, but you're the prettiest when my cock is in your throat") + custard tarts ("i've never done this before.") + mocha coffee (breeding kink) + espresso shot (dirty talking)

carlos sainz jr: banana bread ("i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name.") + nanaimo bars ("who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it.") + coffee (rivals) + vodka shot (rough sex)

fernando alonso: blueberry muffin ("i don't think it'll fit.") + mocha coffee (breeding kink)

carlos sainz jr: mille-feuille (“that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”) + coffee (rivals) + shot of vodka (rough sex)

oscar piastri: berry trifle ('wrong, try again') + coffee (rivals)

lando norris: blueberry muffins ("i don't think it'll fit.") + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour)

max verstappen: apple pie ("now be good and beg. thank you.") + coffee (rivals au) + on the house/vanilla cheesecake ("where are your manners?")

lestappen: butter tart ("let's ruin ourselves for anyone else.") + coffee (rivals au) + on the house (aftercare

lewis hamilton: lemon slice ("i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making.") + coffee (rivals)

lando norris: butter tart ("let's ruin ourselves for anyone else.") + milkshake (size kink)

max verstappen: nanaimo bar ("who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it.") + tiramisu (“my little slut to ruin.”) + bubble tea (daddy kink)

max verstappen: scones ("but what if they see us!") + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour)

carlos sainz jr: sourdough bread ("i'm going to breed you.") + mocha coffee (breeding kink) + pine colada (pregnancy) + hard lemonade (possessive behavior)

toto wolff: chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + champagne (sugar daddy au)

max verstappen: sourdough bread ("i'm going to breed you.") + coffee (rivals au)

daniel ricciardo: chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + pina colada (pregnancy)

lewis hamilton: croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + root beer (filming/recording) + on the house (choice:size kink)

max verstappen: profiteroles: ("come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go.") + champagne (sugar daddy au)

alex albon: mille-feuille ("that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.") + tiramisu ("my little slut to ruin.") + coffee (rivals) + glass of water (aftercare)

oscar piastri: crepe ("pretty girl") + mocha coffee (breeding kink)

max verstappen: profiteroles ("come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go.") + honey cruller ("i forget how small you are sometimes.") + hard lemonade (possessive behavior)

lance stroll: lemon slice ("i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making.") + coffee (rivals au)

max verstappen: banana bread ("i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name.") + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour)

carlos sainz jr: carrot cake ("swallow it. all of it.") + tiramisu (“my little slut to ruin.”) + shot of vodka (rough sex)

lando norris: tiramisu ("my little slut to ruin") + champagne (sugar daddy au)

logan sargeant: banana and chocolate muffins ("i'm only doing this because you need to learn how to behave, rules are rules, and you need to follow them.") + on the house (choice: mafia au)

max verstappen: french toast ("you're trying to make me jealous!") + vodka (rough sex) + martini (mafia au)

lewis hamilton: chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + s'mores ("The accent gets to you, doesn't it?) + on the house: champagne (sugar daddy au)

max verstappen: lemon slice ("i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making.) + root beer (filming/recording) + iced tea (accidentally launching relationship)

lewis hamilton: blueberry muffins ("i don't think it'll fit.") + crepe ("pretty girl.") + on the house: juice (cockwarming)

lando norris: brownies ("you're so much more agreeable when you have something to occupy that mouth of yours.") + martini (mafia au)

lando norris: sourdough bread ("i'm going to breed you.") + martini (mafia au)

carlos sainz jr: chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + honey cruller ("i forget how small you are sometimes.") + espresso shot (dirty talking)

kimi rakkionen: berry trifle ("wrong. try again.") + s'more ("the accent gets to you. doesn't it?") + root beer (filming/recording)

max verstappen: cinnamon rolls ("no one needs to know.") + tea (semi-public sex) + coffee (rivals au)

jenson button: chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + whisky (degrading language)

oscar piastri: milkshake (size kink)

max verstappen: scones ("but what if they see us!) + juice (cockwarming)

toto wolff: banana and chocolate muffins ("i'm only doing this because you need to learn how to behave, rules are rules, and you need to follow them.") + whisky (degrading language)

charles leclerc: profiteroles ("come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go.") + martini (mafia au) + juice (cockwarming)

lewis hamilton: churros ("if you don't shut that little mouth of yours, i will stuff it full. okay?") + martini (mafia au) + glass of water (aftercare)

toto wolff: croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + banana bread ("i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name.") + vodka shot (rough sex)

daniel ricciardo: blueberry muffin ("i don't think it'll fit.") + espresso shot (dirty talking) + vodka shot (rough sex)

oscar piastri: blueberry muffin ("i don't think it'll fit.") + milkshake (size kink)

max verstappen: vanilla cheesecake ("where are your manners?") + champagne (sugar daddy au) + root beer (filming/recording)

max verstappen: nanaimo bars ("who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it.") + martini (mafia au) + glass of water (aftercare)

carlos sainz jr: chocolate chip cookie ("you're beautiful when you smile, but you're the prettiest when my cock is in your throat") + root beer (filming/recording)

toto wolff: vanilla cheesecake ("where are your manners?") + berry trifle ("wrong. try again.") + bubble tea (daddy kink) + milkshake (size kink)

fernando alonso: croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + mocha coffee (breeding kink) + champagne (sugar daddy au)

charles leclerc: chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + berry trifle ("wrong. try again.") + on the house: coconut water (alternate universe - university au)

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k0juki · 4 months

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Pls PLS hcs of reader and joost being parents!! Thank youu

Dad!Joost Klein hc.

English is not my first language, so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors! More posts here.

A/n: Girl dad!Joost just make my brain go brbrbr

Wc: 700

---

• I imagine it like you guys were together long before you got pregnant.

• The whole pregnancy would be so stressful for both of you, but I think mostly for Joost.

• Like imagine him when you told him that special moment. (Short Imagine ahead)

---

You stood in the bathroom, holding that pregnancy test, where two straight lines shined. You were pregnant. Fuck.

"Y/n? Are you alright?" Joost asked from the other side of the door. Nervousness evident in his voice. What took you so long? Were you hurt? "Open the door."

"I-i'm" you took a deep breath, claiming yourself. "I'm alright Joost." You answered him and put down the positive test.

You looked at yourself in the mirror for the last time and opened the door, seeing Joost leaning against the frame of the door.

"Hey, are you alright?" What are you going to tell him? 'hey Joost, I'm pregnant and not scared as hell' no, definitely not this, but you have to tell him something.

You opened your mouth just to close it again. You didn't think of anything. You had to tell him. Now or never.

"I-I think I'm pregnant.." you said and waited for his response, for him to say something. But he was looking at you like, you just grew a second head.

"Y-you're...pregnant?" He asked, surprise evident in his voice. "W-we're having a baby?"

You just nodded your head. You couldn't think of any words right now and you felt tears in your eyes. Maybe because you didn't tried for a baby or maybe it was just hormones.

And then, Joost took you in his arms, a happy smile on his face and his laughter filled the space around you.

"You aren't mad?" You asked, feeling lost.

"Mad? Why should I be mad? This is amazing! We're having a baby!" He laughed and spinned you around.

---

• He definitely made you listen to his music while you were pregnant. Not that you minded.

• Later you discovered that you were having a little girl. Ashley, but you called her Ash.

• "A badass name for a badass girl, no?"

• Also there would be some sleepless nights, at first when Ash is a little baby and starts crying at night.

• He would be up the second he heard her soft sobbing.

• "Hey there..." Joost whispered as he took her in his arms. "It's alright baby, I'm right here."

• Sometimes he would take her to your and Joost bed, and let her sleep here, in his arms.

• And her first words would be daddy. Joost would be literally jumping around with Ash in his arms tearing up.

• You and Joost would be teaching her to talk both Dutch and English, and other language if your is not English. (Like me)

• Missing you and Ash as he is on tour, so you would be face calling every day and night before she goes to sleep.

• Telling her every story, about places he was in, and what people he met.

• As she grew older, let's just say about four, Joost would love to take Ash on outdoor adventures, teaching her about nature and the world around her.

• A small hiking trips with Ash on Joost's shoulders.

• And mostly teaching her about music. His music. (Not every song okay?) He would DEFINITELY teach her how to dance and sing with her too.

• Also Joost would be playing princess with her, simply because she told him to, and what kind of father would he be if he rejected her wish.

• "No daddy, Mr. Pinky likes his tea with lemon, not sugar." Mr. Pinky is her favorite pink unicorn.

• "Alright, alright, my apologies."

• Calling Ashley his little bug. (He just gave me this kind of vibe.)

• "Daddy I'm not a bug!" Ashley whined.

• And he would write some songs about her. For her, and how much he loves her.

• Maybe he will try to talk you into taking her on tour. "Come on love, it's just for two months."

• And let's just say you said no. End of the discussion…

---

Don't copy or translate my work! Also the picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner!

#joost klein x you #joost klein #joost klein x reader #justice for joost #joostice #x female!reader #x reader #k0juki's stuff 🩷#dad!joost #dad!joost klein #joost klein x fem!reader #hc #headcanons #blurb #dad!joost klein x reader #dad!joost klein x fem!reader

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720am · 5 months

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M A S T E R L I S T

for losing as much as possible in a short amount of time (cuz we are all desperate), from me - a biotechnologist, who relapsed (the demons never leave)

the tips i am about to share with all my girliepops are all based on science and work; if you have any other tips, feel free to share in the comments, so we can have all the tips in one place!

• eat your meals from smaller sized plates, to trick your brain you are eating more

• cut up your food into small pieces

• chew every bite at least 10-15 times, until it is a purée consistency; this way you will be eating slower and give your brain more time to realise you are full

• sip water with a lemon slice between your bites

• focus on eating vegetables and protein, limit carbs

• drink a lot of water, and I mean a lot

• add lemon slices to your water to make it have some flavour; also the lemon juice in water before your meals will help reduce the glucose spike => less insulin released from liver => less absorbed glucose from carbs/sugars/starches => less fat on your body

• move for 10 mins right after eating - walk, do calf raises, some light movement so all the glucose can be used before getting stored as fat on your body

• drink tea - green tea, detox tea, whatever tea, without a sweetener

• do not drink diet sodas/colas - or any kind of liquid that is not water/tea - these are useless calories, why would you do that to yourselves?! even if it says 0 cals - this s#it is so bad for you, and the carbonation makes you feel bloated like a god damn whale! ditch the diet sodas girliepops

• implement some kind of movement every day - walking, pilates, yoga, dance workouts, resistance bands workouts or stretching

• do not weigh yourself everyday - due to hormones our weigh fluctuates every day and this will just make you feel bad if you lose and gain 1-2 legs everyday depending on your menstrual cycle, water weight and so on.. weigh yourself every 2 weeks.

• do not drink fruit juice - this is such a scam; hear me out: how many oranges does it take to make 1 glass of orange juice? around 3. can you eat three whole oranges in one sitting? i bet no. then why would you drink 3 oranges? when you make fruit juice, all the fibre and the pulp is removed, leaving you with just the juice with all the sugar in it (in the form of glucose and fructose) so you are basically drinking pure sugar, which turns into fat… just eat your damned fruit, instead of drinking a bunch of empty calories

• take red cranberry supplements - they are usually taken for UTIs, but the red cranberry has diuretic effect, and will make you pee your water weight out; please do not take more than 2 pills and remember to drink plenty of water so you don’t damage your kidneys!!!!

• take probiotics - this will ensure your gut health stays good while restricting foods, so you don’t end up constipated and bloated

• i personally do not eat dairy products (i am lactose intolerant) - they are full of hormones from the cows, give you acne and inflammation, and the protein in it is not worth it considering the amount of fat these products have; skip the dairy if you can

• if you drink a lot of coffee, remember to drink plenty of water! coffee has a diuretic effect and if you are not drinking more water, it will make you retain whatever water is in your body, leading to water weight gain

• if you end up binging, do so mindfully - do not give in to all the food, just have a piece of chocolate, not the whole chocolate bar; have a piece of cake, not the whole cake; then get back on track and try to exercise as much as possible to burn the excess calories

• i think this is obvious but let me say it just in case - in order to lose weight, you have to be on a calorie deficit - meaning you burn/use more calories than you consume; but!! here is the trick - you have to maintain low calorie diet, do not ⭐️ve for more than 2 days, as this will f#ck up your metabolism - your body goes into fight or flight response, meaning everything you eat after f4sting will remain on your body as a reserve of food, in case you end up ⭐️ving again; so have your veggies and protein (chicken breasts, white fish)

• keep yourself busy so you don’t think about f0od - study, work, read books, journal, whatever it is, your day has to be full of activities do you can forget to e4t

• reject offered food - say you already ate / yr not hungry / you are allergic to some ingredient / you have a bad migraine and this will make it worse / or take the food and say you will have it later and just give it to someone else (pls don’t throw in trash, do not waste food)

• when eating with family / boyfriend - place food in a smaller plate, cut up food into very small pieces and eat very slowly and chew every bite for a long time, sip water between every few bites, then say you are full and cannot eat anymore / that you ate a bit earlier and yr full

• when eating, eat your veggies first, then your protein and eat the smallest amount of carbs - always leave leftover carbs in your plate

• do not eat any snacks - no cereal bars, no cereal, no chips, no crisps, no crackers, no salty sticks, just do not eat snacks!

• if you feel like eating - drink water first, then have veggies (cucumbers, carrots, tomatoes, radishes, etc) or fruit (apples, citrus, any kind of berries)

• if you are having breakfast - always eat a savoury breakfast - eggs, avocado, veggies etc; never eat a sweet breakfast - cereal, croissants, pancakes, etc, this will spike up your glucose levels and all that sugar will turn into fat; a sweet breakfast will make you feel tired and exhausted all day, leading you to eat more

• wear a waist trainer - do so for no more than 8hrs a day; this will also help you have smaller portions of food, as it won’t allow your stomach to expand

• do not purge - this is very bad for your teeth and overall health; the stomach acid is very strong and every time you purge, your teeth are getting damaged; just don’t overeat in the first place and have self control!

this is all i have for right now; if i think of anything else, i will add later / make another post; if you have anything to add to this list - go ahead and do so in the comments below

remember, stay safe xx

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 3 months

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Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 4: Read Between The Lines]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Boulevard Of Broken Dreams” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.6k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

It is your first week of basic training at Great Lakes on the north side of Chicago, and as you lie in the top bunk of your assigned bed you wonder what the hell you’ve done. You enlisted right out of high school, eighteen, no driver’s license, no work history, never been more than fifty miles outside of Soft Shell, Kentucky. The drill sergeants are always yelling and you’re bad at push-ups; you can’t understand the recruits from big cities like Los Angeles, Miami, Las Vegas, Detroit, Houston, and they don’t seem to get you either, and aren’t interested enough to try. Sometimes you wish you hadn’t signed that five-year contract, but where would you be if you weren’t here? Home is not words but textures, colors, fumes that still burn in your sinuses: cigarette ash on rose pink carpets, red embers glowing in the wood stove, Hamburger Helper and Mountain Dew, coffee creamer in Hungry Jack potatoes, laughter and heavy footsteps and slamming doors, scratch-off games, dogs barking, collecting coins from couch cushions for gas money, scrubbing clothes in the bathtub when the washer quits, Mama taking gulps from her favorite cup—plastic, Virginia Beach, filled with equal parts Hawaiian Punch and vodka—when she thinks no one is looking, blue shows flickering on the television, Family Feud, Maury, Good Morning America, WWE SmackDown. For as long as you can remember you’ve known you couldn’t stay. Now you’re getting out, but nothing in life is free.

You are at Class A Technical School in Gulfport, Mississippi, and even though it’s hotter than some noxious, volcanic hellscape—Mercury, Venus, Io—you are beginning to like it. You taste the salt of sweat when you lick your lips, sugar in the sweet tea they serve in the chow hall. There’s a magic in building something where there was only empty space before, in patching roofs and painting walls. Here being quiet and watchful is exactly what they want from you: head down, hammer striking nails, measurements and angles and long hours under the sun with no complaints. You’re not just running away anymore. You are creating something new.

You are sitting beneath swaying palm trees and a full moon on Diego Garcia, draining cans of Guinness with Rio, and he’s telling you things he shouldn’t, too personal, too honest: Sophie wants to try for a baby next time he’s home on leave, and part of him wants that too but he’s terrified. As thunder rumbles in the distance and raindrops begin to patter on the waves of the Indian Ocean, you tell Rio you think he’d be a good father. He wonders how you figure that, and you say because he’s not like any of the men from home. He gives you one of his crooked smiles—a flash of teeth, knowing dark eyes—and doesn’t ask what you mean.

But of course, when you swim up from the inky currents of sleep you are in none of these places. You are curled up on the floor of a bowling alley in Shenandoah, Ohio, cheap worn black carpet peppered with stars and swirls in neon green, pink, blue. You stretch out with a yawn. Someone has left a Lemon Tea Snapple within reach; you twist it open and guzzle it, hoping to extinguish the pounding in your skull, a rhythmic thudding of warm maroon, half Captain Morgan and half misery. The music isn’t helping. From the green Toshiba CD player, a man is singing in Spanish. Aegon and Rio are sitting at the nearest table and playing Uno.

Aegon says as he ponders his cards: “You know Enrique Iglesias, right Rio?”

“You are so racist.” Rio puts down a wild. “And the new color is red. Racist.”

“So what’s he saying?”

“Aegon, buddy, I told you, I was born here. My grandparents came over in the 60s. I don’t speak Spanish.”

“You can’t understand any of it?” Aegon is skeptical. He plays a skip, a reverse, and a seven. “My dad never taught me a word of Greek but I can recognize plenty of phrases. Vlákas means idiot. Spatáli chórou is a waste of space.”

Rio sighs, relenting. He puts down a two. “The song is called Súbeme La Radio, Turn Up The Radio For Me. Bring me the alcohol that numbs the pain… I don’t care about anything anymore…You’ve left me in the shadows…”

“Damn, now I’m sad. Draw four, bitch.”

“When the night comes and you don’t answer, I swear to you I’ll stay waiting at your door…” Rio studies his cards. “What’s the new color?”

“Green.”

“Yes!” Rio slams down a skip. “Fleeing from the past in every dawn, I can’t find any way to erase our history…”

Everyone else is awake already. As muted late-morning daylight streams in through the small tinted windows, Aemond is weaving between tables, pointedly checking on each person. He glances at you, says nothing, turns around and walks the other way.

“That’s tough,” Rio says sympathetically, popping open the tab on a can of Chef Boyardee and shoveling ravioli into his mouth with a plastic fork.

Aegon gives you a smirk. “You want to fake date now?”

“I’ll think about it.” No you won’t.

Helaena appears, a prairie girl vision in a modest blue sundress and with her hair tied back with a matching scarf. She reaches into her burlap messenger bag and offers you a choice between a ranch-flavored tuna pouch or a silvery pack of Pop-Tarts. “Strawberry,” she tells you.

“I’ll take the Pop-Tarts.”

Helaena gives them to you and then shakes a bottle of Advil. You’re so groggy it takes you a few seconds to figure out what she wants, then you obediently hold out a hand. Helaena lays two tablets in the center of your palm and moves on, soundlessly like a rabbit or a spider.

You wash the pills down with Snapple. As you nibble half-heartedly on a Pop-Tart—trying not to look at Aemond, multicolored sprinkles falling down onto the carpet—your eyes drift to the tattoo on the underside of Aegon’s forearm. It’s not over ‘til you’re underground. You’ve spotted it before. Only now do you remember where you recognize the lyric from. “Is that Green Day?”

“Yeah,” Aegon says, enthused that you noticed. “Letterbomb.”

“I love that whole album.”

“Me too. I could sing it front to back if you asked me to.”

“I’m not asking.”

Aegon cackles and resumes his Uno game with Rio. Baela is wearing denim shorts and a crop top, slathering her belly with Palmer’s cocoa butter from Walmart as she chats with Rhaena and eats Teddy Grahams. Daeron is waxing the string of his compound bow. Jace is gnawing on a Twizzler as he scrutinizes Aegon’s map, annotated with Xs and circles and arrows in sparkling gel pen green.

“I’m going to be a thousand years old by the time we get there,” Jace mutters.

Aegon hits the table with his fist. The discard pile collapses and cascades, an avalanche of Uno cards. Rio, undisturbed, continues contemplating his next move. “You know what, Jace? The cities are full of zombies, the interstates are blocked by fifty-car pileups, if we bump into anyone else who’s still alive they’re just as likely to rob and murder us as want to be friends, and on top of all that I’m trying to do you the favor of preventing you from getting so irradiated you turn into Spider-Man. If you have a better route in mind, I’d love to hear it.”

“Spider-Man…? You’re such a dumbass, what are you talking about?!”

Luke says from where he stands by a window: “Aemond, someone’s outside.”

“What?” Aemond stares at him. “Zombies?”

“No. People.”

Aemond bolts to the doors, the rest of you close behind him. Rhaena turns off the CD player. You, Rio, and Aegon squeeze together to peer out of one of the windows. There are men—three of them, no, four, all appearing to be in their forties—passing by on the main road through town. They are armed with what are either AR-15s or M16s, you can’t tell which.

Rio whistles. “If you get shot by one of those, the exit wound will be the size of an orange.” Everyone looks at him. This was not an encouraging thing to say.

You elaborate: “Thirty-round magazines. Semiautomatic, assuming they’re AR-15s for civilian use. I guess they could have gotten ahold of M16s somehow. Those have a fully automatic setting.”

“So regardless, we’re out-gunned,” Jace says.

“If they know how to use them. Some men think guns are wall decorations, like deer heads or fish.”

Aegon recoils. “Fish?! What the fuck. I’m glad the colonies left.”

“Maybe they’ll keep walking,” Daeron says hopefully. One of the men stops and points at the bowling alley, saying something to his companions. They laugh and begin crossing the small parking lot. They are less than two minutes from the door. “Oh, great…”

“There’s an emergency exit in the back,” Baela says.

Aegon snorts. “Yeah, that we stacked about twenty boxes of bowling pins in front of to zombie-proof.”

“We won’t be able to get out before they hear us,” Aemond says. Then he abruptly orders: “Grab your guns, let’s go. Helaena, Baela, Rhaena, you’re staying here.” Aemond’s remaining eye—briefly, reluctantly—skates over you as Rio, Aegon, Jace, Luke, and Daeron scatter to obey him. “You too.”

“But I’m the best shot.”

“I don’t want them to know we have women with us.”

“I’m of more use to you outside.”

Aemond rips his Glock out of its holster, pointing it at the floor. His frustration is palpable, an electric shock, heat that refracts light rays until they become mirages on the horizon. “You’re going to stay here, and if a stranger comes through those doors you’re going to kill them. Okay?”

His urgency stuns you; his eye is blue-white summer storm lightning. “Okay.”

“Now get back.”

You soar to the nearest table, duck under it, reach for your Beretta M9 and double-check the clip, fully loaded. You click off the safety.

“Aemond, wait, let me go first,” Aegon is saying by the door. “I’m better at de-escalation, I’m less…uh…intimidating.”

“Less socially incompetent, you mean,” Jace quips.

“I’ll lead,” Aemond insists. “Aegon can talk. Rio, you’re up front with me.”

Rio pumps his Remington 12 gauge. “I’d be delighted.”

Jace is amused. “I’ve been demoted, huh?”

“He’s bigger,” Aemond replies simply, then opens the door and vanishes through a blinding curtain of daylight. The others follow closely; Daeron, the last one out—his compound bow in hand, the strap of his Marlin .22 slung over his shoulder—shuts the door behind him.

Very faintly, you can hear Aegon: “Hey, guys! What’s happening? How’s the apocalypse treating you…?”

Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena are under the table with you. They deserve to have options. You tell them: “If you want to go hide behind the lanes or try to get out the back door, now’s your chance.”

Helaena shakes her head, clutching your t-shirt: black, Star Wars, pawed off a shelf at the Walmart. “I want to stay with you.”

“Same,” Baela says determinedly, gripping her Ruger. She barely knows how to use it, but she’ll try. Rhaena is shaking, her eyes filling up her face, small fragile bones like a bird’s.

You can’t hear voices from outside anymore, but there are no gunshots either. You keep your M9 aimed at the doors, your breathing slow and deep, your heart rate low. Your hands are steady. Your eyes hunt for the slightest movement, for the momentary shadow of someone passing by a window. Against your will, your thoughts wander to Aemond. I hope Aegon is on his left side. Aemond can’t see there.

“Rhaena, get your gun out,” Baela says sharply. “Come on. Turn the safety off. What if you were alone right now? What if we weren’t here to protect you?”

Rhaena nods, fumbling to free her revolver from its holster. “I’m sorry…I’m trying…”

Now there is a stranger’s voice, gruff and deep. He must be just beyond the door, the farthest one to the right. There is a creak of hinges, a sliver of sunlight. “That’s just too damn bad, fellas. You got a nice little hideout here, and you’re gonna have to share it—”

The door opens. Two unfamiliar faces, too shellshocked to raise their rifles in time. You close an eye, line up your sights, fire twice, and that’s all it takes: one headshot, one in the throat, blood like a fountain, spurting scarlet ruin, thuds against the carpet strewn with neon stars, gurgling and spasms as their brains send out those final electrical impulses: danger, catastrophe, apocalypse. Rhaena is screaming. Helaena is covering her ears with both hands.

You run to the doorway; there are more booms of gunfire out in the parking lot. You cross into the late-morning light to see the other two men on the pavement: one with an arrow through the eye, the other with a gaping, hemorrhaging hole where his heart once was. Rio is admiring his work, holding his shotgun aloft. He scoops a handful of Cheddar Whales out of his shorts pocket and shovels them into his mouth.

“Goddamn, I love Remington Arms Company.”

“Oh, that was awesome,” Aegon says, wan and panting, hands on his waist. “Yeah, that was…that was…” He bends over and vomits Snapple and Cool Ranch Doritos onto the asphalt.

“Everyone okay in there?” Rio asks you.

“Yeah.” Behind you, Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena are stepping through the doorway. Your thoughts are whirling sickly: I killed someone. I killed someone. “They wouldn’t leave?”

“We told them the bowling alley was ours,” Aemond says, not looking at you. “We asked them very politely to keep moving. They chose to try to intimidate us into letting them stay. They weren’t good people, and these are the consequences.”

You click on the safety and re-holster your M9. You’re wearing Rio’s on your other hip. They seem to weigh so much more than they did ten minutes ago. I’m not supposed to be a killer. I’m a builder.

“Aegon, are you okay?” Daeron asks, a palm on his brother’s back.

Aegon retches again. “Shut up. You can’t even buy fireworks.”

“Zombies.” Luke is peering through his binoculars. “Not many, just two. Way up the road.”

“There will be more.” Baela’s cradling her belly; you don’t even think she’s aware of it. “They heard the gunshots, the sound carries for miles.”

“We’re leaving,” Aemond says. “Right now. Everyone get your things.”

As backpacks are hastily zipped and Daeron and Aegon stand guard in the parking lot, you kneel down beside the men you murdered and check their rifles. They are M16s, either stolen or illegally purchased: there’s a little switch by the trigger to choose between semi-automatic or the so-called machine gun mode.

“They barely had any bullets left,” you tell Rio. Just like us when we were trapped on that transmission tower.

“Yeah, same story for the other two guys. Four bullets in one magazine, a half dozen in the other. But it only takes once. We don’t have any ammo that will work with M16s, do we?”

“No, we definitely don’t.”

“Fantastic. Well, we’ll throw them in a Walmart cart and take them with us just in case.”

You’re staring down at the man you shot through the head. His eternal resting place is a puddle of blood and brains in a bowling alley in rural Ohio; surely no one deserves that. “He was a real person,” you say, dazed. “Not a zombie. Just a person.”

“Hey.” Rio grabs your shoulders and spins you towards him. From where he is helping Luke gather up the remaining food, Aemond’s head snaps up to watch. “You hurt him before he could hurt us. You did the right thing.”

“Sure.”

“I killed a dude too. I blew his heart right out of his chest. You think I’m going to hell for that?”

“No,” you admit, smiling. “And if you’d be there with me, I guess I wouldn’t mind so much.”

Rio grins, wide and toothy. “Well alright then. Let’s finish packing.”

The ten of you depart from Shenandoah, Ohio heading northwest on Route 603 just like Aegon marked on his map, Jace chauffeuring Baela in one shopping cart, Rio pushing another loaded high with food and M16s.

“It looks like rain,” Helaena says.

Everyone else peers up into a clear, cerulean sky, wondering what she means.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re a few miles north of Shiloh when the storm rolls in, cold rain and furious wind, daylight that vanishes behind dark churning thunderheads, jagged scars of lightning in an opaque sky. The road is only two lanes, surrounded by fields of wildflowers and ravaged crops and untilled earth; it would look like the patchwork of a quilt if you were gazing down from an airplane, but of course the FAA grounded all flights over a month ago when the world went mad: Revelations, Ragnarök, the fabric of the universe unweaving as death burned through families, cities, nations like a fever, like plague.

“Maybe we should cut across one of these fields,” Jace says, pointing. He is soaked with rain; it drips from his curls, runs into his eyes. Baela is in her cart again; each time she tries to get out and walk, she’s gasping and can’t keep up within half an hour. You’ve all taken turns pushing her, much to Baela’s dismay. She’d be humiliated if she wasn’t too exhausted to keep her eyes open.

“Here, let me do it,” you offer, and Jace gratefully relinquishes the cart. Baela gives you a frail wave of appreciation.

“We stay on the road,” Aemond insists, flinching as rain pelts his scarred face. “Farmhouses have driveways and mailboxes, we’ll pass one eventually. If we lose the road, we might not be able to find it again. We’ll end up wandering around in circles in the woods.”

“Just like the Blair Witch Project,” Aegon says glumly, his Sperry Bahama sneakers audibly soggy.

“There!” Luke announces, spotting something with his binoculars. “Up ahead on the left. Past the bridge.”

You can’t see what Luke does until there is an especially brilliant flash of lightning: a farmhouse, old but seemingly not derelict, and with a number of accompanying buildings, guest houses and stables and barns and towering silos.

“Home sweet home!” Rio says. “And I don’t care if I have to kill a hundred of those undead bastards to get in, it’s mine.”

“Well, hopefully not a hundred,” you reply, in better spirits now that a sanctuary has been found. Aemond keeps glancing back at you as you push Baela’s cart. If he wants to say something, he’s doing a good job of resisting the temptation. “We don’t have that much ammo.”

There is a concrete bridge over a river, probably unremarkable and only five or ten feet deep normally but now torrential with rain. Water rushes by beneath, a muddy incline on each side as the earth rises back up to meet the road. A reflective green sign proclaims that you are only two miles from Plymouth, which Aegon plans to skirt along the edges of. It’s a decent-sized town; he thinks you might be able to find a car to steal there, something with gas in the tank and keys on a hook just inside the house.

“I call the master bedroom,” Jace says craftily, rubbing his palms together. You’re near the center of the bridge now, another ten yards to go. “Nice big bed, warm cozy blankets, and I was up for half of last night keeping watch so tonight I am off duty, I am a free man, it’s going to just be me and my girl and eight glorious uninterrupted hours of sleep—”

Rhaena shrieks, and then you hear it over the noise of the storm, pounding rain and rumbling thunder: moans, growls, hisses like snakes. Not one zombie. A lot more than one. They’re crawling up from under the bridge, from the filthy quagmire at both ends. There was a hoard of them waiting, aimless, dormant, almost hibernating. But now they are awake. They are grasping for you with bony, dirt-covered claws. They are snapping with jaws that leak blood and pus and bile as their organs curdle to a putrid soup.

“Get off the bridge!” Aemond is shouting. He has his Glock in his right hand, a baseball bat in his left. He’ll shoot until he’s out of bullets, and then, and then…

Rio helps you get Baela out of the cart, then opens fire. His Remington doesn’t just pierce skulls, it vaporizes them. When he’s out of shells—there are more in his backpack, but no time to reload—he yanks the M16s out of the other Walmart cart and empties each of them, mowing down zombies as the rest of you scramble across the bridge. All around you are explosions of gunshots, thunder, lightning, zombie skulls crushed by bullets and blunt force trauma. Baela is firing her Ruger as you half-drag her, one arm hooked beneath hers and around her back. When the last M16 is empty, Rio starts clubbing zombies with the butt of it. You’ve all reached the north side of the bridge, except…

“Fuck off, you freaks!” Jace is screaming. They’ve backed him up against the guardrail, a swarm of ten or more. His Remington shotgun is out of ammo; he’s swinging it wildly, but he doesn’t even have enough room to maneuver. There are still more zombies emerging from under the bridge. You can hear them snarling and groaning. You swipe an M9 off your belt and put a bullet in the brain of a zombie as its fingers close around your ankle, then you start picking off the ones mobbing Jace. You aren’t fast enough. As they lean in to bite him, teeth gnashing at the delicious throbbing heat of his jugular, Jace throws himself over the barrier and into the surging water below.

“No!” Baela cries. She careens off the road and into the field, running parallel to the river as swiftly as she can. You are helping her, steadying her, firing at any zombies you have a clear line of sight on. The others are here too: slipping in the muck of the flooding earth, shouting for Jace. He surfaces through the frothing current, flails pitifully, disappears beneath the water again. You glimpse a white hand, a shadow of his dark hair, a kicking shoe. There are more zombies on the opposite side of the river, trailing after Jace, lurching and slobbering viscous, gory saliva. They cannot swim, but they can follow him until he washes ashore.

Jace bursts up through the waves, gasping. “Help! Aemond…Aemond, for the love of God, help me…” He blubbers and then is dragged under. Aemond and Luke are continuing frantically after him. Baela is hysterical, sobbing, trembling with adrenaline. Aegon is yowling as he swings at zombies with his bloodied golf club. Helaena is darting around almost invisibly, always cowering behind Daeron or Aegon or Rio.

You glance north towards the farmhouse, growing not closer but farther away. We can’t leave shelter. We can’t leave the road. You lock eyes with Rio. He’s thinking the same thing.

“Aemond, we have to go,” Rio says, but in the midst of the rain and the turmoil it barely registers.

“Jace, we’re coming to get you!” Aemond swears. The ground is increasingly sodden, deep, difficult to trudge through. Jace resurfaces, coughing and sputtering.

“Jace!” Aegon wails. He caves in the skull of a zombie who was once a registered nurse as Helaena crouches behind him. “Jace, I’m sorry! I’m gonna miss you, man!”

Jace splashes in the rising river, his arms flailing helplessly. He is being swept away far faster than any of you can move on foot. “Aegon, you dumb bitch!” Jace manages, then slips beneath the water and doesn’t reappear.

“Where is he?!” Baela is saying. “Aemond, where…?”

You are trying to soothe her, to bring her back to reality. She was always so pragmatic before; you have to wake her up. “Baela, listen, we can’t stay here, he would want you and the baby to be safe—”

“Aemond! Aemond, we have to go!” Rio catches him, wrenches him around, roars into his face as driving rain pummels them both: “We have to go, or we’re going to die here too!”

It hits Aemond all at once; he understands, horror and agony in his sole blue eye. “We have to go,” he agrees. And then louder, to everyone: “Get to the farmhouse!”

Baela collapses into the mud, howling, tears flooding down her face. “No, he’s still alive, he’s still alive, we can’t leave him!”

You and Rhaena are trying to haul Baela to her feet. Now Aemond is here, pulling you away from her—his fingers tight and urgent around your wrist—as he and Luke take your place. “Go,” he commands. “You run. Don’t wait for us. Rio?”

“I got her,” Rio replies, grabbing your free hand with an iron grip. Gales of wind rip at you; every millimeter of your skin is soaked with rain. As you flee across the fields towards the farmhouse, dozens of zombies pursue you. More are still staggering along the banks of the river, swept up in the hoards chasing Jace and the promise of his waterlogged corpse when it reaches its final destination. Daeron has run out of arrows and is shooting with his .22, which is very much not his preference. Aegon trips, getting covered in mud as he rolls, and Rio stops to help him. While he is distracted, you look back at Aemond. He, Luke, and Baela are moving quickly, but not quickly enough. A drove of zombies is closing in on them. You have a spare few seconds at last. You yank your backpack off, grab a box of ammo inside, and reload your M9.

“Chips?!” Rio calls over his shoulder.

“I’m fine.”

He knows you well enough to listen. The world goes quiet as your finger settles on the trigger. There’s a rhythm one slips into, an impassionate lethal efficiency. It’s easier to keep going than to stop and have to find it again. You fire over and over, dropping eight zombies. You sheath your M9 and whip Rio’s out of your other holster, the sights finding grotesque decaying faces illuminated by lightning. You pull the trigger: blood, bones, brains, corpses jerking and convulsing as they fall harmlessly to the mud. Aemond is here; when did he get here?

“I told you to run!” he’s shouting through the storm, furious. He’s shoving you towards the farmhouse. You resist him.

“Let me kill as many as I can—”

“Go! Now!” Aemond orders over the clashing thunder, and then sprints with you all the way to the front porch to make sure you listen. Everyone else is already there. Helaena has fetched a spare key from under the doormat and is turning it in the lock.

Daeron observes her anxiously. “We don’t know if it’s safe in there, Helaena.”

“Not in,” she says, insistent. “Through.” Through this building, and maybe through the next one too. The average zombie is not terribly clever. If they lose sight of you, without the benefit of the momentum of a hoard they are lost. Helaena opens the door. The living rush inside, and she locks it behind you. As you are bursting out the back door, you can hear zombies pounding their rotting palms against the front one. You soar through a stable full of dead horses and donkeys, leaving the doors open; this should keep the zombies distracted if they make it this far. Then you race to the farthest guest house. Luke, swiveling with his binoculars, spies no zombies approaching as you steal inside. There is no spare key this time; Rio punches out a first-floor window for you to climb through. Once everyone is inside, he and Aegon move a bookshelf to cover the opening.

You all stand in the living room, gasping and shivering, dripping rain down onto the rug and the hardwood floor. The air is dusty but clean of any trace of vile, swampy decay. Outside, thunder booms and lightning flashes bright enough to illuminate the lightless house. The sky is so dark it might as well be nightfall. Baela sinks to her knees, clamping both hands over her mouth so she won’t sob loudly enough for a zombie to hear. Rhaena and Luke are beside her, both weeping quiet rivulets of tears, trying to comfort her in whispers. Helaena is rummaging around searching for candles; she has already taken a lighter out of her soaked burlap messenger bag.

“Daeron, bro, come over here,” Aegon chokes out. He embraces Daeron, clutches him tightly and desperately, doesn’t let go. Rio is reloading his Remington 12 gauge.

Jace is dead. Jace is dead.

Aemond says to you, his voice low but seething: “What the fuck was that?”

You blink the raindrops out of your eyes as you stare at him, bewildered. “You needed help.”

“I told you to run.”

“I’m an asset, I have skills that can keep you alive, why am I here if I’m not going to be useful—?”

“You’re not in the fucking Navy anymore!” he hisses. “When I tell you to run, you run, you don’t stop, you don’t look back, because I can’t worry about you and take care of everyone else.”

“Nobody asked you to worry about me.”

“But I do.”

“Aemond,” Aegon pleads, waving him over. Aegon’s plump sunburned cheeks are glistening with rain and tears. “Man, it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters now. Please come here.”

“I’m going to clear the house,” Aemond says instead.

Rio raises an eyebrow at you—this is one fucked up guy, Chips—and then pumps his shotgun. “Me too.” He sweeps with Aemond through the main floor and then vanishes up the staircase.

Helaena is lightning candles she found in the kitchen and arranging them around the living room. Daeron starts gathering food from the pantry. Rhaena and Baela are murmuring to each other softly, mournfully. It doesn’t feel like something you should intrude on. Luke is peeking out of a window with his binoculars, vigilant for threats. Aegon sniffles, wanders over to you with large, sad, shimmering eyes, pats your shoulder awkwardly.

“Hey, Chocolate Chip. You doing okay?”

“No,” you answer honestly.

“Yeah. Me either.” Then he flops down on the hideous burnt orange couch and lies there motionless until Daeron brings him a can of Dr. Pepper. Aegon pops the tab, slurps up foam, and then begins singing to himself very quietly, a song so old you can remember your grandfather saying it was one of his favorites as a boy: A Tombstone Every Mile.

When Rio comes back downstairs—heavy footsteps, he can’t help that—you meet him at the bottom of the steps. “The house is good,” Rio says. “And Aemond’s in the big bedroom on the right if you’d like to go up there and talk to him.”

“I don’t think he wants to see me right now.”

“I could not disagree more,” Rio says with a miserable, exhausted smile. Then he goes to the couch to check on Aegon.

You pick up one of the flickering candles, white and scentless, and ascend the staircase. You find Aemond in the master bedroom, the same accommodations that Jace laid claim to when he was still alive. He is sitting at the edge of the bed and staring at the wall, at nothing. Tentatively, you sit down beside him, placing the candle on the nightstand.

“Aemond…what happened to Jace…it wasn’t your fault.”

“Criston said I was in charge, that’s the very last thing he told me. They might be the last words I ever hear from him, and I just…” His voice breaks; he wipes the rain and tears from his face with open palms. “I really wanted to get everyone home.”

“I’m so sorry about what I said at the bowling alley,” you confess, like it’s a dire secret. “I don’t want to fight with you, Aemond, I…I want to help you. I can see what you’ve done for everyone here, me and Rio included, and I believe in you. I want to be a part of this.”

He nods, an acceptance of peace, but he still doesn’t look at you.

“Can we start over? I’ll never bring it up again, okay? I wasn’t trying to guilt you or upset you or anything. I should have just dropped it. I overreacted. And I understand why being with someone like me maybe wouldn’t be…super appealing.”

“It’s not about that.”

“Then what’s it about?”

Aemond wrings his hands, shakes his head, at last turns to you, golden candlelight reflected in his eye, his scar cloaked in shadows. His words are hushed, clandestine, soft powerless surrender. “I’m already so afraid of losing you.”

He cares, he hopes, he wants me too? “I’m here right now, Aemond. I don’t know what else I can say. I’d promise you more if I could.”

He reaches out to touch you, to ghost his thumb across your cheekbone, wet with rain. Then he kisses you, so gently you cannot help but imagine the wispy borders of calm white summer clouds, the rustle of leaves as wind blows down the Appalachian Mountains. You don’t have to ask him what he’s thinking, what it feels like. You can read it in the startled, firelit wonder on his face.

You taste like the beginning of something, here at the end of the world.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n

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rainbowbarnacle · 6 months

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Please make a tea post so I can save it especially the pineapple ice cubes I need more info

Oh, like, different teas I like to make? Okay! :D

🍍Pineapple Tea🍍

The way I do it is really simple:

Buy a giant jug of already-made tea (I like gold peak!)

Buy a carton of pineapple juice

Freeze the juice into cubes, pour a little of it in the tea for extra flavor

And that's it. That's aaaall you gotta do.

There's all kindsa ways you can dress it up, but nine times out of ten I just do this and drink it by the gallon when it's hot out.

If you wanna get fancy with it, feel free to cold brew your own black (or green) tea, add actual hunks of pineapple fruit in there, add some orange juice, add some honey, add some coconut milk or sweetened condensed milk, whatever sounds good! (Also, pairing pineapple tea with coconut cookies? SO GOOD.) Put mint in the pineapple cubes if you like mint! Add a bit of boiled ginger root or some brown sugar and cinnamon for a little kick! Heck, last summer I used blue peaflower star-shaped ice cubes just because they were pretty.

(Peaflower petals don't taste like much, but they make a GORGEOUS blue, and if you put something acidic in there like lemon juice IT TURNS PINK. :D)

🍓Strawberry Tea🍓

I find this stuff sort of difficult to find where I live, so often I go the same route as the pineapple tea: grab a jug of black tea, grab a jug of strawberry juice, (ocean spray has a really nice cran-strawberry one I like) freeze the juice, mix, and enjoy. Super simple.

If I can't find strawberry juice, I dice some strawberries up and put it in a jar with some water and a bit of sugar for a few hours, then add *that* to the tea. (heck, it's really nice all by itself!)

What goes with strawberry? ANY DANG THING YOU WANT. I am particularly fond of lychee. Jasmine tea and rose petals pair really well with it too. Again, if you like mint, it's *really* nice with strawberry. And you know how if you put black pepper on strawberries they taste even strawberrier? (If you haven't tried this, go do it, it's magic.) Same goes with the tea, add some peppercorns or a teeny bit of chili powder or some ginger.

If you wanna drink it hot or cold brew a batch of your own, here are some brands that are also nice:

1. Strawberry Sensation

2. Adagio Strawberry Tea (this is also where I got the peaflower petals)

3. Any of Lupicia's Strawberry Teas they are HEAVENLY

🍏Apple Tea🍏

As with the pineapple and strawberry teas, it's totally fine to just go find some ready-made tea and mix it with some apple cider or apple juice for tasty low spoons fun. If you drink it iced, a bit of sugar and lemon juice brings out the apple flavor nicely!

I prefer drinking this stuff hot though. You know that Fall Drink post that was floating around? IF YOU HAVEN'T YET, TRY IT, IT'S AWESOME.

☕Chai Tea☕

So here's the thing about chai for me personally: I don't tend to drink it iced or sugary, but if you do like it iced and sugary, there are a couple of really nice chai tea concentrates:

Oregon Chai Latte

Tazo's Chai Latte (Forget the "skinny" nonsense, I just wanted to include an option with no milk so you can add whatever you want to it)

Pacific Chai isn't concentrated, but you can use it to make hot or iced chai and it's really lovely, not too sweet and super easy to work with. As for dressing up chai, I don't tend to! There's already so much going on with all the flavors, I just drink it as-is most days. Play with milk-to-tea ratios or sugar amounts all you like, figure out what's your jam.

I do know that mixing chai and coffee together (or chai and chocolate together) is guaranteed to make a feeling groovy kind of morning, at least if you have two thumbs and you're me. Iiii think that's all the tea blather I can think of for right now. Thank you for asking, anon, it was fun! Anybody reading this, feel free to add your own favorite things to do with tea. :D

#domestic blifs #this has been tea blather with rainbowbarnacle #thank you for attending my TEA-d talk

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batri-jopa · 3 months

Text

"Currently"

Since I've already been tagged by both @figuringthengsout and @notasapleasure I should finally do something about it🫡

favorite color: recently it's yellow💛💛💛 Juicy mango type of yellow the most. Often combined with black and white because I enjoy looking like an oriole:

last song: Tina Turner - GoldenEye

last movie: Mask (1994) (and maaan how I never suspected I would look at Stanley Ipkiss as a relateable character when I grow older...😅)

currently reading: Romans na receptę - another one of few books by Monika Szwaja that my mum borrowed in our local library. I like her style and it breaks my heart that she died being only 65🥺 There's always so much hope and friendliness and support in the world that she's depicting. And, fascinating enough, there's usually AroAllo woman representation somewhere and depicted in the positive way! Of course it is not called "aromantic" by a polish writer born in 1949, more likely for the main male character to call that "AroAllo" woman character a "robot" who "uses him as as a sex toy"🤭 - BUT nevertheless even the male protagonist really likes her, appreciates her skills as loyal assistant, treats her as good friend to confess his problems to and genuinely wishes her all the luck!👍 In other books you can expect other queers occasionally too (like a teenage son who turns out to have a boyfriend), but it's always in sympathetic and realistic yet bringing-back-faith-in-humanity kind of way🫠

currently watching: umm... nothing actually (I feel like a weirdo😑 Like maybe I should start watching sth finally just so I could fill in the meme next time around? I do have a lot of series on my "to watch list")

currently craving: MANAGE TO GET SHIT DONE!💪 seriously I need either only 2 working days a week instead of 3 or... better time organisation😩 (so what that I have 4 "free" days a week now when there are emails to answer and books to read, and my pictures to make into album, and family members to visit, and all the new pictures' ideas to draw, and new tumblr posts to create, and those fic-WIPs waiting for so long already, and... I wonder if scheduling everything in precize days and hours would help me to feel more organised somehow?🤔 or only feel more remourse for not being able to follow the schedule?😑)

tea or coffee: Oh, so glad you asked! Tea please, black, strong, no sugar, no milk. Lemon appreciated but not necessarily. Thank you!🫖☕️

Tagging: @zorilleerrant , @chrisoels , @swordoftheseeker , @kaiaprax , @imaginatorofthings , @parttimereptile , @corey-m13 - some of you won't play probably so I'm just saying a friendly "hi"👋

#just me #ask meme

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thewriterwhowritesnot · 1 year

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To Have and To Hold

Warnings: Yandere!Aliucard, SMUT, creampie (wrap it before you tap it my dudes this is FICTION! Kids cost money), slight degradation, a little bit of fluff. A/N: Yall, please don't judge me. I had a hell of a rough time writing this out because I had to take a break every three minutes to BREATHE lol. I hope the smut is okay. I'm not ready to be that explicit just yet. I hope y'all like this. This is another 2k words and is not proofread. If you want to be in the taglist just lmk! Summary: You travel to Dracula's Castle to help the owner get the place registered as a historical landmark and enter into an overwhelming relationship with Alucard.

Masterlist Chap 1.

Chapter Two

The next morning you awake to an old chest half your size in the middle of your room. On top of it, there’s a note. “ I was informed this morning that your bag was lost in transit and they’re unable to locate it. I took the liberty of getting you some clothes to wear while you’re here. I hope they fit you and if they don’t we can make adjustments.

A. “

A bit bummed at the loss of your clothes, you open the chest and immediately forget about what small things you packed in your bag. The first piece of clothing was a soft pink sundress with white flowers on it. The Queen Anne neckline was lined with white lace and you loved it instantly. Setting it aside to wear it for the day. There were multiple sets of silk pajamas. Pretty nightgowns and fluffy slippers and beautiful shoes (that were all your size). You giggled like a child in the long mirror against the wall, swaying this way and that.

Granted, in your job description you wore clothes that kept your skin safe from poisonous spiders, cobwebs, and splinters. But the knowledge that Adrian had picked these out to lend you made butterflies spring to life in your belly and you couldn’t resist thinking of what he’d think of you in them.

Deciding to bathe before you start your day, you enter the bathroom and examine the large tub and new shower head. The place was spotless and smelled of lemon. You turned on the faucet and allowed the hot water of the shower to steam up the room before getting in. Being too tired to shower the night before you basked in the warmth of the hot water washing the days of travel off your skin.

However, your peace was short-lived because a rush of cold air cut across your skin beckoning a wave of gooseflesh. There were no vents or holes near the shower so you shut the water off and peered out of the shower curtain. The bathroom door was open and you struggled to remember if you’d closed it or not. Surely, you would’ve closed it to keep the heat in, right?

Stepping out of the shower you wrap yourself in a towel and enter the room to find nothing amiss.

Strange.

You searched the chest for the round container of lotion you’d spotted when you were rummaging through it earlier. After getting dressed, you leave your room, notepad in hand, and find your way to the kitchen.

Marguerite is there and quickly introduces herself and offers you a full breakfast. Shamefully, you find yourself very pleased with the fact that she’s an older woman. Much too old to be romantically involved with your host. Her grey hair is pulled back into one bun, pulled away from her round face which is free of wrinkles. Her eyes are almost catlike which would appear almost frightening if not for their warm disposition and the childish curve of her features. She looks incredibly young and old at the same time. You watch as she pours you both a cup of tea and puts exactly four sugars into your tea.

“How is your room?” Her voice is warm much like her eyes. Hoping she hadn’t noticed your staring, you mix your oatmeal in an innocuous figure eight. “It’s lovely. Everything is perfect and the bed is quite comfortable.”

Marguerite hums with approval. “Wonderful. I put everything to right myself. The little prince would have nothing less.” Baffled, you turn to face her.

“Little prince?”

Marguerite’s warm eyes all but twinkle in the morning light. She sips her tea once before getting to her feet. “I’ve got some small tasks to finish before the morning ends. Once you’re done eating, you may leave your dishes in the sink. I’ll tend to them.” She doesn’t wait for your answer before she leaves, cup in hand.

Curious but too excited to think about it for too long you hastily finish your breakfast. Now, you have a system. Always begin at the first room you entered when you’re exploring a new place. It’s crucial to start in a familiar place so that each new discovery is easier to document and keep track of. Following this system leads you to head to the foyer. The room looked much the same as it had when you’d first arrived except for the streams of light that were pouring in from all directions. You’d missed the windows behind the humongous curtains that covered them the night before. Some of the windows were stained glass and you took a moment to examine them.

Each picture showed a man with dark hair in battle, covered in the blood of his enemies, and returning to the gothic castle you now stood in.

“A bit grotesque, is it not?” You jump and whirl around to find Adrian standing behind you much as he had the first time you met. “Have mercy! You’ve got to stop doing that!” His eyebrows draw together as he laughs lightly. Today his hair is in a messy braid down his back. The button-down white shirt he wears is tucked into the sleek black pants that sway over his sandy brown boots. “My apologies, my dear. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” His eyes travel from your face down your body and back up again causing those butterflies to flutter up to your heart. Fingers knotted in the dress you wore, your eyes scanned the room nervously. “Thank you for the clothes and the other things. They’re beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like them. Does everything fit well?” “Scarily well,” you joke. “I would’ve thought these clothes had been made for me with how perfectly they fit.” His jaw tensed slightly. Confused once again, you opt to examine the stained glass. You hear him inhale slowly.

“I’m told there’s a book in the library that describes the stories in these windows. Would you like to help me search for it?”

The doors of the library are large. Just as large as the front doors. He pushes them open with ease and leads you into a room full of one of the largest collections of books you’ve ever seen. There are books on every surface. Lining the walls and stacked spaces all over the tables and desks. It was overwhelmingly massive and you took it all in wonder. “The place is a mess and I haven’t hired anyone to help me organize it all just yet. It’s such a large collection.”

“Can I help?” The words come out louder than you expect and you can’t see the smile on his lips as he pulls open the heavy curtains of the room. “If it’s not too much for you. I know you’ve only come here to stay a week. Are you sure you’ve got enough time for this?”

Already eyeing a ruby-red book covered in dust, you nod vigorously. “I’ve got plenty of time. I’m the youngest historian of my group and I’m pretty sure my boss let me go on this trip because he figured it would keep me busy and out of the way of their more important jobs. Jokes on them though, this place is immaculate! I could write a million books about the architecture alone.” You glance over to see him leaning against a table watching you intently. “That is..if you would consent to that.”

He sits motionless for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t see why not.” Grinning, you begin sorting through the books nearest to you. Several of them are in languages you’ve never seen and you examine them thoroughly. Organizing this library would not be easy but you were reluctant to think about giving yourself a time limit anyway. Judging by the size of this room alone, there was no way you’d be able to sort through it in a month let alone a week. The next three days, you focused on your task while pondering the idea of staying a little longer.

During this time, you and Adrian had entered a rhythm. You’d wake up in the morning, he’d meet you in the kitchen and you walk together to the library. You’d spent hours in there reading over ancient stories of witches and vampires. All of them fill you with delight.

You had become accustomed to Adrian being near you throughout this time. Relishing every moment, his skin brushed yours or he leaned over you to read whatever book you wanted to show him. It was on a late night almost identical to the others that Adrian had left without a word and reappeared with a tray with two cups and hot chocolate.

“You didn’t have to bring me anything.” You replied after many thanks. He shook his pretty head. “Nonsense. After all you’ve done to help me, I won’t hesitate to do whatever I can for you.” He set a smoking cup in front of you before sliding into the chair closest to yours and sipping from his own cup. You watched him as he took a drink and you absentmindedly did the same. The scalding hot liquid bit at the skin of your bottom lip and tongue. You yelped.

“Shit!” Adrian grasped your chin in one hand and sat your hot mug to the side.

“It’s smoking hot, Y/N. You can’t just inhale it that way.” He all but whispered as his callused thumb gently rubbed your bottom lip.

“You did.” You mumble. His frown deepened and you watched his face as you impulsively let your tongue slide over the tip of his thumb. His breath caught in his throat. Less than a second later, he slid his thumb into your mouth and you wrapped your lips around it without a second thought. His pupils dilated as he tilted his head, lips parted. You tasted the cocoa on his skin and sighed breathily.

Quickly, he moved his hand from your chin and pressed his lips to yours. Tilting your head, you leaned into him as he pulled you to his chest and slid his hands down your throat and shoulders. Past your arms and around your waist. Your arms find their way around his neck as you let him slide his tongue between your lips. The sound of your heartbeat and the noises you couldn’t help but make filled your ears.

Just when you think you might have to lean back for air he breaks the kiss and presses his lips all over your face. Without a word, he lifts you by your waist and you wrap your legs around him quickly. He kisses you again, rougher this time. You don’t know how and nor do you care but soon your back is against the soft cushion of your bed and Adrian is leaving a trail of kisses down your neck and over your collarbones.

After a moment, he rises and looks into your eyes. You can tell he’s searching for something but is unsure how to ask. The apprehension and obvious vulnerability tug on your heart and you place your hands on either side of his face. You nod, not waiting for him to ask. “Please.” You whisper. He closes his eyes and kisses you again before leaning back on his knees and pulling his shirt above his head from the hem up. You gasp when you see the long scar across his chest. It’s faded greatly, but the outline is still there and you sit up a little to drag your fingers across it. “What happened?”

He looks to the right. “It was a long time ago.” He said nothing else and you didn’t press him. Gingerly, you pressed your lips to his chest and he shuttered against your lips. Like he’d never been touched there before. In a rush, he slid his hand through your hair held the back of your skull, and kissed you deeply. It was easier for him to undress and explore you without fear now. Eyes on yours, he pulled your panties from around your hips and slid them off. You giggled as he slid his cool fingertips between your knees and slowly spread them.

You held your breath as his eyes roamed over your body. “So pretty.” He breathed and you whimpered as his hands slid down your thighs and over your pelvic bone. He kissed the bare skin of your shoulder, your knuckles, your thigh, your ankle. He inhaled your scent and you sighed with each touch. His fingertips found their way to the apex of your thighs and slid between your glistening lips. A shuttered moan falls from your lips and he chuckles. He kisses your temple while rubbing slow circles around your clit.

Your eyes are squeezed shut as you teeter closer and closer to your orgasm. Without warning, he speeds up the movement, sucking the skin of your neck between his teeth sending shivers down your spine as your hips move against his hand of their own accord. In a burst of feeling you tip over the edge. A sharp shriek escapes your lips and it feels like forever before the shocks of pleasure end. As soon as it stops, you huff impatiently. It certainly wasn’t enough to make the heat of your skin cool down and the way he continued to caress your skin was only making it worse.

He slid between your thighs and lined himself up with your entrance. “Are you ready?” He whispered in your ears. “Yes.” You reply quickly and he laughs at your eagerness. Then he gently presses the head of his cock into you. Both of you moan in unison. The air in the room thickens as he graciously waits for you to adjust to the intrusion. Slowly he edges himself all the way inside of you to the hilt and you fight to breathe. You had guessed he could fill you up but you hadn’t imagined it would feel like this. Your legs were still vibrating with the aftershocks of your first orgasm and you kiss his shoulder before telling him you’re ready for him to move. And that he does.

Forehead to yours, he pulls his hips away from yours, leaving just the tip inside you before surging forward. The wind is knocked out of you and you squeeze your eyes shut as sounds you’ve never made before push out of your belly and mingle with his own. You lose yourself in the pressure and the rhythm as his hands bring your wrists together above your head. He holds them there with one hand and uses the other to pull your right thigh up higher on his hips. This allows him to reach deeper inside you and your back arches.

Breath uneven, you raise your hips to meet his thrusts as your second orgasm oh so slowly gets closer and closer. Unable to see and barely able to hear, you beg him. “P-please. Please. Please.” You chant like a sinner praying for salvation. He presses his lips to your ear.

“Please what?”

You whimper.

“Use your words.” He laughs against your skin as he leaves little bite indents on your forearms. The sound of your wetness echoes throughout the room, egging you on in the most obscene manner. All but screaming, you beg him to let you come. He murmurs “Good girl” in your ear and releases your wrists. He brings both of your knees up even higher and your hands grip his biceps as he plows into you. Almost instantly, your body tightens. Your eyes roll as your orgasm finally hits you, causing every part of your body to shake. This time you scream as he presses his hips into yours a few more times before stilling inside you. You watch as he closes his eyes and your name falls from his lips as he comes inside of you.

Adrian lets your legs slip from his grip and lays down on you. The room is quiet save from the sound of your breathing. You can feel his heart beating against yours and you wrap your arms around him. Hand in his hair, you press your lips to his temple much like he’d done yours and he sighs into you. A smile dances across your lips as you hold him to you.

“You’re so perfect.” He whispers. “I was going to say the same thing about you.” You reply. He exhales heavily and places a kiss on the inside of your elbow before getting up and entering your bathroom. You hear the faucet water turn on as he hums a song you’ve never heard before. He returns a moment later with a warm cloth and wipes your skin so gently that you feel your heart swell inside your chest. He continues to hum and the sound of his voice lulls you into a dreamless sleep.

Taglist: @hoppershoe. @c-crow-chatters

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