#so I added in the yellow box

[quibbs126]

Oh yeah, so does anyone remember that one Professor Layton OC I made back during my Layton phase?

Not Eileen, I’m talking about this guy here. The character who was unnamed but was part of an idea I had for a Layton story (and also an ex of Descole’s)

Well, I actually named him ages ago, as well as gave him a bit more stuff (not a lot, just a bit), and about 2 hours ago I just randomly decided to draw/redesign him again. For no particular reason, I just did it

If I’m being honest, I don’t think the redesign turned out half bad. I didn’t do much, just changed up his hair and outfit a little, but I think it works. Ironically I was using Ace Attorney characters as more of my reference here than Layton. Maybe not the best but it works

Also I know his cane arm looks weird, but shh

I wrote most of the stuff about him up there, but his name is now Claude di Adone, for reasons I don’t remember. I do remember where Claude came from though, it was @notllorstel’s Twisted Fates AU Descole that was Layton. And also that his name was supposed to sound both vaguely French and Italian

As I recall, the hypothetical plot centers a good deal on parts of Descole’s past (though not a lot on Descole’s character development), where Layton and co come to this town where at least in public, everyone dresses similar to Descole. Not necessarily because of him, but rather because it was based on the bauta masks and the fact that apparently people in Venice once commonly wore these outfits and that sounded cool

Actually I think I remember the name of the story now, I believe it was City of Masks or something like that

Edit: I found the original post, it was Town of Masks

Anyways, Claude was the one who called Layton here, as he wanted him to solve some mystery going around the town that I never really figured out, and had done so after learning of his reputation

However, there’s more to Claude as he actually once knew Desmond Sycamore when they were younger. The image says “friend” because they weren’t just friends, they were actually dating, but Claude might not make that fully known. There are hints prior to this revelation that Claude knows a bit more than he should about Layton from the papers, or at least on a level that he shouldn’t for a complete stranger, like trying to call Layton by his first name. This is because Claude has been fully aware of the Hershel twist for years as this was before Desmond got super secretive about his former life and considered Claude someone he could trust. So from Claude’s perspective he’s meeting the famed younger brother of an old friend/ex of his that he’s never fully gotten over his feelings for, and he occasionally forgets that Layton probably doesn’t know that

But not only does Claude have a past with Desmond/Descole, but Descole himself happens to be in the town as well, albeit with a bout of amnesia. Note that this is supposed to take place sometime after the prequels. Claude is well aware of this, and this is the second secret reason he called Layton, as he knows Layton has a past with both Desmond and Descole, and hopes that Layton will be able to jog his memory, especially as Claude himself has been struggling with that due to the large gap in time from when they last met

Also, there’s the matter of his cane. Originally I said that he used one due to an injury in the past, but now I’ve decided he’s just always had weak legs, and has been using a cane pretty much his whole life. His cane does still secretly have a sword though

Claude is a nice guy, and can be rather generous, such as letting Layton and his friends stay in his house for their time here, since he’s rich with a big house and lives alone aside from some servants, so there’s plenty of room, and he does ultimately have good intentions, but he can also be shady as fuck sometimes and you probably don’t know him as well as you think

And yeah, I just felt like sharing that. Don’t know if anyone cares but I did

[mokeonn]

pics? pics of poetry for the soul?

Here she is, in all her glory: Bhaal's pinkest disappointment

and a bonus: The original doodle I did on a sticky tab before I decided to make the character

[gamebunny-advance]

Giggle Meal AD + Giggle Meal Box (alt name: Burger Fool AD)

I missed a couple of days of my drawing hour, but I'm trying to make up for it. This is what I drew today.

I decided to give designing a goat another go because there aren't any official fast food goats that are really resonating with me, and I desperately need a good goat for BurgerTime ;3;

I still need to design some more items to make a full set + the HA Buddy items, but I actually really like the goat. I've come a long way since Polly~

That said, with how fearful staff has gotten over copyright stuff lately, while I think my inspirations are obvious, I hope that I've made it different enough from the source to be considered as an option. If not, I do have some ideas for an alternate color scheme, but I'd really like them to stay red + yellow.

[wheneverfeasible]

Continuation “fix it” of this ficlet where Steve changed himself to try to earn Eddie’s love.

Steve missed his polos.

He missed his light wash jeans, his music, watching his favorite movies, he even missed his stupid plaid walls.

Eddie had laughed at them the first time he’d been in Steve’s room, back before they’d even started dating. Technically they were still there, they were just covered up with posters of bands Steve only knew about because his boyfriend liked them. Eddie had teasingly gifted him a Black Sabbath one back when they had just been friends to give his room more “personality” instead of his mostly undecorated room, which…okay, fair, because Steve had admittedly not done much of it himself just because he couldn’t be bothered.

(And he did, actually, kind of like the poster because it was their own little inside joke. It made him smile when he saw it, even to this day, even if he thought he could still taste the damned demobat sometimes.)

It wasn’t like he really knew much of who he was to begin with. He still had the bowling pin he and Tommy had stolen from the bowling lane their sophomore year (Steve’s idea, though only to impress his friend), and the picture of the car he had bought on a whim because Tommy had said he wanted a car just like it. Any other knickknack had either been gifted or purchased for a similar intent.

Now, that car picture was collecting dust in his closet, replaced by the Black Sabbath poster that Eddie had pinned to the wall slightly askew for ‘aesthetics,’ though it being slightly off-center and at an angle made Steve a little itchy. Soon, however, other posters soon followed, some given to him by Eddie and some he purchased himself after learning what bands Eddie liked, with a large Dio one taking up space by his bed.

Flyers of Corroded Coffin shows or other band merch dotted around the room as well, which he didn’t really mind because he liked supporting his boyfriend, though the clutter and disorganization slightly bothered him. Eddie had grinned at the sight however and called him a ‘real boy now’ for looking like the room of a young man and not a ‘30-something corporate stooge,’ so that would have to be fine too.

But he still missed his room looking like his room, instead of a replica of Eddie’s. It made Eddie feel more comfortable however, so he tried not to think about how it wasn’t his aesthetic at all, because he could learn to like it. He could change for the better. He could be what Eddie wanted. He could be good enough.

Which was why he was confused, staring at the garment box on the kitchen table where he’d been circling car ads in the classifieds, trying to find something cooler than his bimmer. Eddie had come over with a wide grin, sliding a box he recognized from one of the department stores he used to shop at before dating Eddie.

Eddie had proffered it with a flourish, grinning expectantly, practically vibrating with anticipation as Steve had carefully lifted the lid and moved the tissue paper aside to reveal the piece of clothing inside. A polo shirt in a soft, buttery sort of yellow with thick vertical white stripes running vertical over it.

Steve looked up at Eddie with a furrowed brow. “I…you got me a polo?” he questioned, confused and also concerned, knowing the department store was definitely outside of Eddie’s usual price range.

“Yeah!” Eddie confirmed happily, moving to sit in the chair next to Steve, looking down at the soft material Steve had yet to pull from the box. “The check from the gig came through, and I remember you looking at this shirt a couple weeks ago. I’ve been waiting to be buy it ever since.”

Steve blinked at that. He hadn’t known Eddie had caught him admiring the shirt in the window while he and Eddie had been walking around downtown. He felt a flair of panic at the thought, annoyed at himself for slipping up, for reminding Eddie that he was a stupid preppy rich kid. Eddie didn’t look upset though, or at least…he hadn’t. Now his eyes were darting over Steve’s expression with growing worry, chewing on his lower lip.

“Is that…is that all right? Was it a different one you wanted? I-I still have the receipt, we can return it and get the one you wanted,” Eddie rushed to say.

“No,” Steve quickly said, his fingers of one hand tightening slightly on the box while his other reached out of their own accord to slightly touch the shirt within. “I…Eddie,” he breathed, not knowing what else to say, what this meant. Why would Eddie buy him something like this? “You shouldn’t waste your hard earned money on…something like this.” Shouldn’t waste your money on me, he wanted to say. “It’s your first paying gig.”

Eddie shook his head quickly, an almost embarrassed smile curling his lips with a slight blush. “I wanted to, Stevie. You always buy me things, I wanted to return the favor. You’ve been so supportive of me and I wanted to…I don’t know. Thank you.” He glanced down at the polo with a soft expression, though he did frown a little too afterwards. “I haven’t seen you wear your polos in a really long time,” he murmured quietly.

Steve tensed at Eddie’s words. Of course he hadn’t. Polos weren’t cool. Polos weren’t good enough for Eddie. It was why he was so confused at this gift. He didn’t understand why Eddie would buy him something that wasn’t metal. That wasn’t suitable for his boyfriend.

“I know that you’re experimenting with your style and all, and I won’t deny you’re hot as fuck in these,” Eddie grinned, moving to pinch the loose sleeve of Steve’s tee between his fingers. It was from some band he didn’t actually know before he’d bought the shirt, something called Leatherwolf, though he had bought their tape as well so that he could pretend to be a fan and know some of their songs. “But you look hot in your polos too. I miss them.”

Steve sat up straighter at that, his eyebrows flying up in surprise. Eddie…liked his polos? “Aren’t the polos…kind of lame?” he asked carefully.

Eddie snorted, smiling as he leaned in to press a kiss to Steve’s neck, causing a startled smile to erupt over Steve’s own lips as he squirmed at the slight tickle of Eddie’s lips and hair. “There’s nothing lame about you, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured, voice roughened with his tease. He pulled back though, a touch of his worry on his expression again. “Do you like it?”

Of course Steve liked it. He loved it. It was exactly the one he had been looking at before, even though he’d tried to hide it, which meant that Eddie really had noticed it and really had been waiting to buy it for him. With his first paycheck from Corroded Coffin’s first real paying gig.

There had been the fear that Eddie’s involvement with the band would limit their options, that no one would want to listen to a band that had a member who was suspected of grisly murders. Eddie had been prepared to step down, to let the others move on without him, had offered it even though Jeff and the others had vehemently opposed the idea. They’d said that Corroded Coffin wouldn’t exist without Eddie and if he wasn’t part of it then they didn’t want to do it anymore.

In a surprise twist that probably shouldn’t have been all that surprising, Eddie’s infamy had actually helped the band. The news of his believed guilt and then later innocence and injury from the actual killer that he had tried to stop had spread even beyond Hawkins, drawing a crowd for their nights performing at The Hideout who began to see more patrons than ever before.

Then they’d been invited to participate in a Battle of the Bands, which they hadn’t won but they’d placed second, and the random shows they’d throw themselves at the quarry or wherever else saw larger crowds than usual, even the one they threw to celebrate Gareth graduating, and they’d even been asked to play at the fair, though it was a free gig.

Then, most recently, someone had approached them after one of their shows and asked to hire them for an event in Indianapolis. A paying event in Indianapolis. With it was the promise of possible future paying gigs as their fanbase grew and spread. There was even talk of a possible scout being at the gig.

Dustin had joked that maybe ‘86 hadn’t been his year, but ‘88 could be, though Eddie had just grinned and denied it, saying that ‘86 had been his year after all. He hadn’t said why, but he gave Steve a secretive smile and reached out to tangle their fingers together.

Steve felt a flare of warmth beneath his skin as he stared down at the polo again, hesitating before giving a brief nod. Eddie’s previously nervous smile bloomed into a joyous one, and he leaned in quickly to plant a smacking kiss to Steve’s cheek. Steve rolled his eyes but couldn’t prevent his own smile from growing on his lips.

“Thank you, baby,” Steve murmured, sliding a hand over Eddie’s neck to draw him in for a slow kiss. He didn’t know what it meant still, Eddie buying him a polo of all things, but it made him more determined than ever to be good enough for his boyfriend.

When they pulled back, Eddie soft with happiness, Steve made the decision. He needed to go all in if he was to keep Eddie happy. He drew in a deep breath and moved to take Eddie’s hand, his finger lightly tracing one of the scars there.

“I was thinking of growing out my hair. Maybe even dying it. Or maybe shaving i—”

“Don’t you dare!” Eddie interrupted, expression and tone absolutely scandalized as he squeezed Steve’s hand. Steve jumped slightly at the sudden explosion, blinking wide eyes at Eddie, causing the other to flush slightly in embarrassment. “I mean. You can, obviously, if you really want to, it’s your hair after all, but…” Eddie let out a small whine of protest as his gaze moved up to take in Steve’s hair.

Steve self-consciously reached up with his free hand to pass his fingers through his hair, which wasn’t quite as voluminous as he used to style it, but was still the last real testament of his former style. His former personality. The bullshit one.

“I mean,” Steve hedged, glancing away with a small roll of a shoulder in an aborted shrug. “It’s not exactly metal is it?” He looked back at Eddie with a slightly strained smile, rolling his eyes as though in commiseration. “I don’t want to embarrass you by making people think you have a prep for a boyfriend,” he laughed.

Eddie’s expression changed immediately as he stilled almost unnaturally, falling into a blank neutrality, even his eyes shuttering as he slowly pulled his hand from Steve’s grip. The response caused Steve to start panicking, worrying he’d messed up in some way, that he reminded Eddie of all the ways that he was lacking.

Steve opened his mouth to start apologizing, ready to apologize for anything, but Eddie held up his hand palm out to stop him, causing Steve’s mouth to shut with a soft click of teeth.

Eddie’s gaze dropped from Steve as his brows slowly began to furrow, a calculating expression settling over him as his eyes fell to the soft yellow polo still in the box. His lips twisted into a frown. After several excruciating moments, his eyes moved towards Steve’s shirt, an even more pinched look settling over his expression.

“Who are you wearing?” Eddie asked, his voice low and slow.

Steve glanced down at his shirt, the panic in him spiking, before realizing that this was a test. He had to prove to Eddie that he could like metal too (he didn’t, not really, though he could appreciate some of it) and wouldn’t be an embarrassment. He could do this.

“Leatherwolf,” he answered, thankful that he had done his job well enough to answer this pop quiz. He straightened his spine and pulled up the information he memorized with a slightly relieved smile. He could do this. “They’re from California. They were founded in, um, 1981.”

“What’s your favorite song of theirs?” Eddie asked, and there was something slightly off in his tone, but Steve couldn’t place it, not when he was frantically trying to recall the titles of the songs he’d made himself remember.

“Um. Cry Out?” he hesitantly asked more than answered, which caused Eddie’s lips to press into a thin line. He felt his breath catch at the obvious displeasure on Eddie’s face, wondering if he’d answered wrong. Was that a bad song? “O-or no, um, not that one. Uh. I like…um. I like…Magic Eye?” Fuck no, that wasn’t right. “Magical Eyes, I mean,” he corrected himself hastily.

Eddie’s eyes slowly dragged over Steve, his lips compressing again into a thin line as he drew in his own deep breath through flared nostrils. “Fuck,” he muttered, obviously not meant for Steve but it caused Steve to panic anyways as Eddie looked away, his brow furrowing in thought as his gaze settled on the newspaper on the table and the circled ads there.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized, though he wasn’t certain what he had done wrong this time. Maybe Eddie didn’t like that band?

“Steve…” Eddie heaved a heavy sigh, rubbing his hand over his face before he looked over at Steve again. “I had thought you were just…trying things out. Experimenting. Lord knows your folks never let you be your own person,” he muttered before waving a hand as though to swat that thought away. “I didn’t realize you were actually trying to change.”

Why did Eddie sound so appalled by that? Wasn’t that a good thing? He was willing to fundamentally change who he was just for Eddie, to become someone deserving of Eddie, who fit in Eddie’s life. Didn’t Eddie want Steve in his life?

“Why are you upset about me changing?” Steve huffed, his worry turning into annoyance in his tone. “I thought that was a good thing. Not being the douchebag I used to be.” He scowled, crossing his arms with a roll of his eyes to cover his unease.

Eddie just looked at him in that way that made it seem like he was seeing inside Steve, which normally Steve liked because no one ever actually saw him, but now it just made him uncomfortable. Like he had done something wrong. He was just trying to be a good boyfriend, however. Besides, it’s not like he had come up with the plan on his own.

Everyone always talked about how different he and Eddie were. Always pointed out how preppy he was, made fun of Eddie for falling for a jock, had even asked at the start when they first came out publicly to their friends who was blackmailing whom into the relationship. Steve knew he had to change. They were too fundamentally different. It was the only way to keep Eddie.

Except Eddie didn’t look like he was going to be kept. He had started slowly shaking his head, pulling back, his eyes skittering over Steve again but in a way that said he wasn’t liking what he was saying. Steve’s panic spiked again.

“Eddie. This is good. I’m willing to change for you, that’s how much I love you,” Steve breathed, reaching out to grab Eddie’s hand with desperation. “I listen to your music now, and I play Dungeons and Dragons, and I don’t even talk about basketball around you anymore. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy. Don’t you see? Isn’t that all that matters?”

Eddie’s lips turned down into a sharp frown. A shuddering breath left him before he all but yanked his hand from Steve’s, his dark eyes turning even darker as he pulled away from Steve and said those damning words:

“But I’m not happy, Steve.”

Steve felt all the air leave his lungs, felt all the blood first rush to his head and then drain out of him, felt his mouth and tongue and throat shrivel into dryness as his eyes widened in horror. Eddie was shaking his head, stumbling out of his chair and back, an unreadable expression on his face as he distanced himself from Steve and this revelation.

“This wasn’t what I wanted, Steve. This doesn’t make me happy.” Eddie’s took another step back when Steve stumbled from his own chair, putting the table between them. “I…I need to go. I need to think.”

Steve knew with certainty that if he let Eddie leave now, that this thing between them would never be the same. His heart clenched in his chest painfully, and he felt his eyes sting with encroaching tears. “Eddie, please…” he begged, his words cracking.

Eddie only shook his head, sending his hair arcing around him, before straightening his spine. “This isn’t you. I don’t want this to be you. I love you Steve, but this version of you? The one that I created—” This time it was Eddie’s voice that cracked.

Clearing his throat, Eddie backed away. “No. No, this isn’t what I wanted. I’m sorry, Steve, but I need to go. I need to think. I can’t be here right now. I’m sorry.”

And with that, Eddie spun on his heels and all but ran towards the door, escaping from Steve’s incompetence, his unworthiness, his undesirability while Steve could only stand there in frozen horror, the tears he couldn’t hold back any longer slowly dripping down his cheeks.

Because he knew. He knew this would happen. He knew that no matter what he did, he would never be good enough. He knew that Eddie would leave him one day. Knew that he would never be able to keep the one he loved.

Knew that he, like his love, would always be complete and utter bullshit.

-

Part 3

-

tag list: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump

[saltofmercury]

Sentimental

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Author's note: Writing feels so good!!! I'm so happy to be writing again :)

Summary: Jason holds onto things that make him emotional. That doesn’t make him emotional.

*

Jason Todd would never call himself emotional.

He prefers the term sentimental. Sentimental is what surrounds the items in his trinket box. There’s not many items inside —some personal information mostly. A death certificate, a watch, and more recently items from you. A scrunchie, a broken keychain, and notes.

He had noticed the bracelets, gold and silver trinkets decorating your arm, then something not as shiny, the weird black ribbon scrunchie. The scrunchie you never gave it to him.

He watched as you pushed your hair back, your hands guiding the elastic weaving through your hair, sitting on top of your head.

What was left was the red indent on your wrist. You seemed to pay no attention to it, but he did not like the idea of something leaving a mark on you. Red and indented. The angry mark kept being shown, often closed off by your other bracelets.

“Does this hurt?” He asked you later at night wondering how it hadn’t gone down since the afternoon. 

“No, I get these all the time.” You say, carefully gauging his reaction.

“But I don’t like the impression it leaves you with.” He scowled, rubbing his thumb along the indent. 

Impressed by the mark it did leave—He took the scrunchie the next day, wearing it for a total of five hours. He had come back to the apartment you two shared, showing you the indent of his own. Now he keeps your scrunchie on his arm, willing to hold it for you. You never really take it back though, you just let him hold onto it. Seeing how he fidgets and snaps it on his own. He doesn’t give it back either.

Sentimental over the keychain you bought him for the key to your apartment. A big step in your relationship, where he had been earning your trust, giving you space, waiting for you to take the next step — you just wanted some peace of mind from him entering through the balcony window.

It had been a small joke between you guys about how you wish you had a pocket sized “him” so you could tell him at any moment anything that happened during your work day.

It prompted the idea to make him into a Lego.

You carefully selected the top, bottom, and head, and even added a red cap on top as an inside joke for his mask.

Jason could hardly respond. It leaves him tongue tied at the little figurine placed in his hand. Your smile beaming at him, then, expressionless when he doesn’t say anything. 

“You don’t like it?” You pout, hoping you didn’t cause offense.

He stares back at you intensely, suddenly breathless.

“I love it.”

He does wish he were more careful with it. After falling from a two story building, he had landed on it causing the little figurine to crack into multiple pieces. He would have taken a dislocated shoulder over the broken keychain.

“You fell on it?” you ask, seeing it cracked in multiple pieces in your hands.

“The guy snuck up on me and kicked me off the ledge.”

“And you fell … on it? Didn’t that hurt?” You peer up from your hands concerned he’s not fused with any other Lego pieces on his leg.

He tries to glue it back together, seeing the irony in himself in the Lego pieces. It frustrates him, he places it in a bag and puts it away in the box. He just starts to keep the key around his neck. The next day he gets surprised by the different figurine.

“Don’t land on this one ok?” You smile up at him.

Sentimental over every note you’ve ever written him— which causes his small box to overflow with colors of

“I’ll be back with dinner”

“went to the market” 

“Ice cream in the freezer!”

And all the “I love you’s see you later”

Scribbled in your writing on blue, white, pink, and yellow scraps of paper, post-its, and notepads. 

What seemed like a small note was a reminder to him that someone does come back for him. 

Someone is there for him.

So no, Jason Todd isn’t emotional. He’s just sentimental.

[thelostconsultant]

Double surprise

pairing: Lando Norris x reader

summary: Lando wants to surprise you, but in the end you surprise him too.

Lando could tell Max was already planning to bang his head against the coffee table, but it honestly wasn't his fault. Maybe he was terrible at making decisions at the moment, yes, so what? It's not like he had anywhere to rush at this time, and if he was a true friend, he would stay to provide emotional support.

Because Lando was preparing for something big, and the first step was asking a jewelry store employee to jump in the hotel he was staying in with a bunch of engagement rings. If he showed up in the store himself, social media would be full of pictures within a matter of minutes. He didn't want to ruin the surprise. And it was also much more comfortable this way.

“Lando, just pick the third one. You said it yourself, that's her style,” Max tried.

With a thoughtful hum, the Brit picked up the said piece and took a better look at it. “Yeah, it's true, but,” he began, then came to a halt as he grabbed the last one the jeweler showed him. “I don’t know, the first one is a classic, but what if she prefers something modern and trendy?”

The jeweler watched him in silence, the patience of a saint radiating from his smile. He had been there for two hours now, it was already nine in the evening, but he not once made a comment about still being there. “Which one is closer to what she usually wears?” he asked softly, trying to guide him towards a decision.

Lando thought for a moment. “The classic one,” he replied while he took a closer look at it again.

One big, round white diamond with two smaller stones on its side, completed by a yellow gold band. It was clean. Nice. Something simply elegant for her. But then he glanced over at the other one and saw the curved white gold band with a big, pear shaped yellow diamond, and a voice in his head told him that was the one. People would go insane over it when you shared it on social media.

He looked up at the jeweler with a thankful smile, then turned to Max. “All right, I'm buying both. She'll get the trendy one, but if she doesn't like it, all I'll have to do is pull out the classic option. She can even wear whichever she prefers depending on the day,” he explained his master plan.

Max let out a sigh of relief and mouthed ‘finally’ under his breath, while the jeweler clapped his hands together and closed the box with the rest of the rings. Meanwhile Lando had a huge grin on his face, clearly satisfied with his decision. He solved the problem. Sure, it took two hours, but he wanted to pick the perfect ring for you.

Since he specifically asked for rings already available in your size–which he only knew because he stole one you wore on that finger–he kept the chosen ones and said goodbye to the jeweler after paying for the items. Once they were left alone, Max picked up the rings and took a closer look at them, carefully examining every centimeter, every curve, and every stone. As if he was waiting for approval, Lando raised an eyebrow at him.

“Good choice if you ask me. Seeing her disappointed in your taste wouldn't make you feel good, even if she said yes,” Max said with a short laugh before putting down the jewels.

Rolling his eyes, Lando stretched his arms above his head and fought back a yawn. Media day always took a lot out of him and today wasn't any different. Add the stress of making the right decision and he felt like a truck had hit him. “Thanks, mate,” he told his friend.

“When will you ask her?”

“She arrives tomorrow, so I guess I'll get it over with as soon as I can. I need an extra boost for qualifying,” he added with a laugh.

Max gave him a ‘good luck out-qualifying me’ look, but Lando was too hyped to notice. So he let out a sigh and decided to voice his only concern. “So you want to get this over with? Sounds romantic.”

“You know what I mean,” Lando said defensively, giving him a disappointed look that was mixed with the hurt feeling because he dared to joke about him not being serious enough about it.

“Well, tell me how it went.” Max patted his friend on the shoulder before standing up, then watched him with a small smile. “But I'm proud of you. She's nice and has a good influence on you… You chose wisely.”

“Thanks. See you tomorrow at the track?”

Max nodded, then he raised his hand to wave him goodbye and left the hotel room. This left Lando alone with his thoughts, and he began to wonder if he would succeed. The two of you had been going through a bit of a rough patch lately, and he told you this trip was all about fixing that. You would join him for the race weekend, then you would stay in the area for a little trip, just the two of you, away from curious eyes.

His mother told him this plan of his might backfire, because you weren't entirely pleased with him right now, and who knew, maybe you would consider this a way to force you to stay in this relationship. He obviously didn't want you to feel that way, but he didn't want you to leave him either.

His phone buzzed next to him, and when he took a look at it, a wide smile grew on his face. “Hello, beautiful,” he answered happily.

“Hey, you have a moment?” you asked him hesitantly.

“For you? Always.”

There was a short pause, he could hear the traffic in the background, but before he could ask you where you were, you took a deep breath and began to talk. “So I said I'm gonna arrive tomorrow, but I won't.”

Lando felt like he was stabbed in the heart, like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. “What do you mean you won't? You promised to come here, you can't just back out of it! Unless it's a family emergency. Is it a family emergency?” he asked, barely able to hide the anger that latched onto his voice.

You remained silent for a while and he silently cursed under his breath. How could you do this to him? You had agreed you would join him two months ago, there's no way you couldn't plan that much ahead back then. But then you let out a laugh, one of those adorable laughs he loved so much, and his anger disappeared at once.

“I'll send you an address. Get in the car and meet me there,” you told him.

“I'll be at the track all day and you arrive in the morning, don't tell me you won't–”

You cleared your throat to interrupt him. “I was talking about now, you muppet. Or are you about to sleep?” you asked him teasingly.

Lando huffed and rolled his eyes. But then it struck him, you were talking about now, you were talking about him driving to that mysterious location, which meant… “Wait, you're already here?” he asked you.

“Just meet me. There's something I need to tell you.”

And with that you ended the call. He didn't have the brain capacity to stop you, and it didn't occur to him that he could have called you back. Instead he stood there, staring at the screen of his phone until the notification popped up. He put the address in the search bar and checked the map. It was close, only a fifteen minutes drive from his hotel.

Without hesitation, he grabbed his keys and headed to where you were apparently waiting for him. He was already standing in front of the elevator when he realized he left the rings in his room, and he didn't want to leave without them. So he ran back and picked up the two boxes, putting them safely in his pocket.

After a car ride that seemed painfully slow, he finally arrived at his destination. According to your message, you were right here, but when he looked up, he noticed it was a private clinic. Hoping this was the right address, he went closer to the door and it opened right away, so he went inside and tried to figure out where to go next. This place was huge, and at this time it felt like he was in The Walking Dead.

“Mr. Norris? Please, follow me,” a woman in her thirties told him with a polite smile, gesturing towards the elevator.

“Where are we going?” he asked when the door closed behind them.

The woman only watched him with a mysterious smile, probably perfectly aware of what was happening, but she didn't say a word. She probably promised to keep your secret, which was nice, but also extremely annoying. Why in a clinic? Did something happen to you? But you sounded happy, surely everything was okay.

Before they stopped, the woman handed him an eye mask and asked him to put it on. At this point he didn't dare to ask questions, so he did as he was told and followed her guidance after the elevator came to a halt. After she made him stop, he heard a door open and he was soon pushed ahead to enter.

He waited. Someone would hopefully come over to tell him what this was all about, and until then he decided to remain silent. And then he felt soft fingers trace his cheek, only to find the edge of the mask and slowly pull it off his head. There you were, happy and in one piece. With a smile, he was quick to pull you into a hug.

“I missed you,” he whispered as he kissed your head then buried his face into the crook of your neck. “What are you doing here? Or rather, what are we doing here in a clinic?”

“I have a surprise for you,” you purred into his ear, and he could feel your nails scratch the skin on the back of his neck as you spoke. It felt nice. He missed this.

For the first time, he took a look around the ultrasound room, and when he noticed the posters on the walls, his suspicion began to grow. “Wait a second,” he began as he took a step back and looked you in the eye. “Are you…?” He pointed at your abdomen with a raised eyebrow.

With a laugh, you took his hand. “I am. Eight weeks in,” you informed him.

For a while he was staring at you with a dumbfounded look on his face, but then he stepped closer to pull you into a passionate kiss. What started out as something serious soon turned into a series of giggles from the both of you. Lando was the one who pulled away, suddenly remembering something.

He excused himself and stepped outside for long enough to find the main ring’s box in his pocket, then returned with his hands held behind his back. There was no plan, at least not for these circumstances, so he had no choice but to improvise. You looked confused and he had to flash a smile at you to let you know it was okay.

“I… You know… Damn it. Okay, so there was a plan, I promise, but you didn't really leave me a choice. Pick a hand.”

“What?” you asked with a confused look.

“Choose a hand. Left or right?”

You let out a thoughtful hum, visibly thinking about the answer. Then you flashed a wide grin at him and said, “Right.”

It was in his left hand, but nevermind, he grabbed the box with his right one and held it out for you. “This is yours,” he said nervously.

The shocked look on your face made him worry, but it slowly melted away as you slowly opened the box and saw the ring inside. You took it out to take a better look at the piece of jewelry, and soon a smile grew on your face before you finally turned to him.

“What do you say?” Lando asked.

“You didn't ask me anything.”

With a roll of his eyes, he reached out to take the ring and took your hand as well. “Will you marry me?” You nodded without hesitation, tears already forming in your eyes, and he quickly put the ring on your finger before you could change your mind. He kissed you again, but he could tell you were looking at your new ring behind his back. “You like it?” he asked once he pulled away and took a look at it as well.

You nodded. “It's beautiful.”

Lando reached into his pocket for the other box, and showed you his plan B. “If you'd prefer something classic, here's this one too,” he explained.

“You're insane. One ring is more than enough,” you told him with a laugh.

“Well, I know how many shoes you have, this can't be any different.”

With a playful laugh, you slapped his arm. “An engagement ring is different, trust me,” you said as you leaned closer. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He looked around and motioned towards the machine in the corner. “So… Are we here so I can take a look at my child?”

You nodded and went out to ask the doctor to come in. Meanwhile Lando couldn't help but think about how much organizing it must have taken to get this ready, but he was honestly grateful, because it was a big surprise. A big and amazing surprise. This was one of the reasons why he loved you so much, and all he wanted was to make your life as good as he could in return.

[caxde]

yellow | steve harrington x reader

summary you're Dustin's older sister, you used to go out with Steve, but the distance broke you off, you're back in Hopkins, for good, and destiny makes you bump into eachother. (3.9k)

warnings fem!reader, fluff, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn exes! to lovers, idiots in love!!!, mentions of alcohol use, english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read! 

-

“Since when do you own this?” Dustin asked as he pulled a yellow crewneck out of one of the boxes. 

“Oh, uh…” You hadn’t seen it in a while. It fell on your hands as Dustin gave it to you, the softness of the fabric still holds a reminder of his cologne. “It’s not mine, it’s Steve’s.” 

He grew quiet for a second, looking at you intensely. They were still friends, Steve had seen him grow up, and was close to him, almost like a brother, and when you broke things off, you begged him to not leave him. He kept his promise, he always did. 

“Sorry.” He muttered, an apologetic look stayed on his face even when he stopped looking at you, you shook your head. He didn’t need to apologise, not to you anyway. 

“How is he?” The curiosity always took the best of you, and you had left quite some time ago, not really thinking about him. Running away so you wouldn’t have to think about a broken heart. 

“I haven’t told him that you came back home.” Your little brother blurted out, with a grin on his face, letting you know he is really glad that you’re actually back, his way of telling you he’d missed you. “He’s doing good. He’s working, and he went back to studying… He’s happy.” He smiled back at you, seeing how your face was no longer expressing grief or melancholy, but a pleasant smile. 

You were unsure of a lot of things, but one thing that you were certain of, he deserves all of the happiness in the world. 

“That’s nice to know.” Your attention went back to the sweater. The coldness of the night he left it to you seemed to reach your fingertips, and the warmth of the memory reached your gut, butterflies that you thought dead flew for a second. “You should give it back to him.” You added, lifting your head up to look at him. 

“You sure?” Even if he was the youngest, he always treated you in such a delicate manner, it made you softer, you had missed him. 

“Yeah, it’s been long enough.” You chuckled as you said it, and he nodded along. You hadn’t been home in years, hadn’t seen him in two of those. 

“I’m meeting him in a bit, I can give it to him then.” You nod, and he mouths a soft okey before leaving the room. 

You had a moment, for the first time since you had arrived back home, where you were alone. No music, no noise, no one else with you. 

You left so you could go to college, that was your excuse. Then he broke up with you, the distance only exposed other problems, in both of you. When you did break up, he told you that he still loved you, but it wasn’t enough. 

The echo of his words still with you, it isn’t enough, am i not enough? 

The sweetness of his voice shocked with his broken tone, tears fell from his eyes when he said goodbye. That was the last weekend you came down, and you had been avoiding coming back ever since. 

The walls of your room were empty, the new coat of paint now dry, half full boxes of clothes and shoes and memorabilia were scattered around the floor, the bed half done, the cover still having to be put. It seemed like a new beginning, a new chance for yourself. 

Not a lot of people knew you were back. Dustin knew, of course. It had been funny seeing him finally drive, his hands still a bit insecure behind the wheel, but he looked so happy being able to pick his sister from the airport, it had made you beam with happiness when you saw him.

And you had called Eddie as soon as you woke up today. He was ecstatic, begging you to come to a party tonight, telling you that he’d come pick you up as soon as his shift at the garage was done. You knew he’d missed you, even if he’d come often to the city, and vent over everything he had going on. Avoiding to bring him up, even if you did. 

So you laid down on your floor, staring at the same ceiling you did as you grew up in that same house. 

Before you were aware of what you were doing, or why, a pen rested on your hand, scribbling down on a piece of paper. 

Hey, I’m sorry it took this long to give it back, guess I wasn’t ready to let you go. Maybe I’ll never be. I hope you’re happy, and that you have everything you deserve. I’m also sorry if it stinks of me, it has been with me for a while now. Bye. 

PS. Don’t be a stranger. I’m here if you need me. 

You signed it, and folded it one too many times before dropping it inside the little bag that had his sweater in it, the green clashing with the yellow fabric. 

Dustin grabbed it before he left, you smiled when you heard that his car sounded the same. 

-

Loud music, sweaty people and colorful lights. 

Your drink was empty, it had been for a while.

Eddie smiled while he danced and took a sip of his drink, happy that you’re finally back, his head swinging back and forth. His attention was split, between you and an unknown blonde girl that was on the bar. You smiled when you caught her staring. 

“You’ve got a fan Edds.” You chuckled as you teased him. Raising your voice so he could hear you. 

“Who?” 

“The blonde”

“I don’t think that’ll work.” He laughed, his shyness coming in as it always did when the attention was on him. 

“I think it will if you actually go talk to her… buy her a drink?” You shake your head in her direction, he knows you’re actually telling him it’s okay, you can go, i’m okay. 

“Sure?” 

“Yeah, I’ll go to the other bar and get a drink, wait for you there.” He nodded, and you smiled as you saw him blush. 

He looked back at her, he rubbed his chin in a nervous manner, before actually walking over to her. You laughed at him, smiling deeply seeing your friend acting the same he always had. 

As you shook your head to yourself, stifling another laugh you left him on his own, Eddie flirted better when you weren’t around anyway. You started walking to the other bar area, the only problem, you had to find your way through the dance floor before you could reach it. You looked at the people there, all of them dancing mindlessly, some couples that had been formed, kissing or dancing together -it always made you smile, seeing people loving each other, publicly, without fear- and some doing what you were doing, looking around while downing their drink. 

You were halfway through, when you saw him. 

Everything else became fuzzy, the only clear image in your vision was him, wearing the yellow sweater. 

Steve saw you too. 

And time seemed to stop for a moment, and before it started again, there was a few seconds of slow motion. His hair flicking to the beat of the music, as his lips curved upwards at the sight of you, his eyes softening. He’d missed seeing you. He looks the same he did. You thought, though taller, broader, happier. 

Before you knew it, you were face to face. 

You didn’t say anything. You just looked at each other. Years of not seeing him, of avoiding him, it all didn’t matter now. His smile had the same effect on you as it always had, melting you on the spot. He broke the distance, and his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in close for a hug, your arms laying behind his neck, your fingers stroking his hair. 

I miss you. 

“Hi.” Steve whispered into your ear. An excited but yet calm tone could be heard in his tone. 

“Hi.” You whispered back, holding on to him for a second longer before pulling back. 

“Dustin told me you came back.” He raised his voice now that your head was no longer close to him. “I didn’t think I’d see you today.”

“I can tell.” You joked, as you grabbed his sweater, and you saw him chuckle in response. 

“D’you wanna go out? And talk?” He pointed at where the exit was. Of course you wanted to, you almost felt like you needed to. Hear his voice for once, not just remember it. 

As soon as you nodded, he started to head out, grabbing your hand as he passed in front of you. The same tingling feeling comes back to you, as if it was the first time you went on a date with him. The excited nervousness, the hopefulness, the wishing. 

Cold air hitted your chest, even if it was an unseasonably warm night, you blamed the alcohol because anything else would be too confusing, and you were really trying to not get too much into your head. Not now, when he was standing against the wall and his pretty brown eyes were fixed deep into yours. 

“So, how have you been?” He broke the silence, and the moment of admiration between the both of you. 

“Good.” You smile shyly to yourself. “I’ve been good.” 

“How did the big city treat you?” 

“Chicago is… Interesting.” You chuckled, as you scratched your forehead. He knew that was your anxious tick, the way you had when you had too many thoughts swimming around inside your mind. “Uh… You’d hate deep dish pizza.” 

He laughed, and the little butterfly hidden in your stomach came alive again. Warmness and goosebumps on your skin. 

“I did hate it.” He recalls, looking up for a moment, the street lights shining on him. He looks like a statue, you thought, unaware of how pretty he is.

“When did you try it?” 

“I was waiting for one of your classes to end, got hungry and saw a little place that was selling them, disgusting.” He shook his head in a funny manner, it made you giggle, so he did it again, wanting to hear you again. 

“I ended up liking it, y’know.” 

“Of course you did.” He teased, a finger poking your cheek, your face leaning into his touch. 

“You get used to it.” You shrugged, your hand reaching for your purse, searching for the pack of Marlboros you knew you had. 

“You’re good at that.” He grinned as his eyes became softer, he couldn’t stop looking you up and down. “You’re good at everything.”

“‘M not.” You laughed as you took a cigarette out, placing it between your lips. “I still can’t cook as good as you can.” 

“You miss my cooking?” He raised his eyebrows as he asked, a cheeky grin on his lips. 

“I dream about those meatballs you made.” You confessed, trying to hide your truthfulness with a giggle, that he saw through. His head tilted back for a moment, as his Adam's apple moved as he sifted a laugh. 

“D’you remember when I tried to teach you how to make Napolitanian pizza from scratch?” You started to laugh at the memory, failing to light your cigarette, hiding your face on the palm of your hand. 

His heart started to beat again, louder, stronger, faster. If you weren’t too busy trying to quiet yours down, you’d hear it.  

“God… I ended up covered in flour.” 

“Your hair was all white.” His tone softented, as did his eyes. His body seemed to be closer to yours, itching for contact. “I missed that laugh.” He finally confessed, even if the thought had been on his mind since he first heard it that night. 

“You did?” 

“Yeah, I missed you too.” 

It happened then. The wave of nervousness, relieved in an instance. 

He missed me. Hemissed me. Hemissedme. 

The excitement that came with it, the realisation that what you felt in some way was reciprocated. And that the complicated feelings were felt by the both of you. 

“Really?” Your voice was full of hope, your eyes shining bright at him. 

“Yeah.” He was blushing now, as he smiled. A wide upside down grin that made your stomach flutter. “Did you?”

“Of course I did.” 

How could you not? He has been the best person that has ever stood by you. Even if things had ended, you could only remember the good times, the fun times, the soft ones. How loved he made you feel every single day. How wanted. How cared for. 

“When we broke things off…” You started to rumble, as smoke escaped through your lips, finally having ignited the cig. “It wasn’t because I didn’t love you anymore.” 

“I know.” He muttered, his tone letting it known that he had a knot in his throat. “I still loved you.” 

“Yeah.” You looked up at him, your hand reaching for his, a needed familiar contact came back. “I needed to be okay.”

“Are you?” You knew he was worried about your answer, in a weird way, Steve never had stopped caring about you. And neither had you. 

“I am.” You nodded, the curve your lips made made him know that you couldn’t be lying. “I don’t have panic attacks every night, I’m fine being on my own. Honestly.” 

“I believe you.” His hand squeezed yours, the soft touch telling you he trusted you, implicitly. You felt yourself falling back into him. “And I’m proud of you, really.” 

“I’m proud of you too.” You finally took a step closer to him, your legs touching and a love sick grin on both of your faces. “Dustin told me you’re studying.” 

“Yeah well… I finally decided, I guess…” 

Even if your attention was on nothing else but him, when the doors opened and people started to come back to the street, smelling of alcohol, smoke and sweat. A chattering invaded the quiet street, and your focus changed. 

“Shit.” Your eyes were scanning the multitude, trying to find Eddie, or the blonde girl, or any of her friends. 

“What?” Steve’s eyebrow furrowed again, not really knowing why the swarm of people had made your demeanor change. Your hand letting his go, your body taking a step back. 

“I came with Edds… Do you see him?” 

“Oh, you’re with him?” You scoffed at the question, rolling your eyes lightheartedly, as you shook your head no. Steve nodded as the smallest grin appeared. A relief appeared in his face, and you chuckled at his question and reaction. 

“He’s a friend.” You still were trying to find him, people kept passing you by, taller, shorter and drunker. “D’you see him?” 

“No.” 

Steve left his hand on your shoulder, asking for your attention, knowing that you were getting into your head, and you were worrying too much too soon. And he also knew that once you felt his touch, your shoulders would relax and drop. Your mind stopped spinning. 

“D’you remember where he parked?” As soon as he speaks you feel grounded. You nodded, and he replicated the movement. “We’ll wait for him there then, come on.” 

You started walking, comfortable silence was one of your favourite things. Just knowing that he was there made you feel better, glancing at him from time to time, catching him staring at you everytime you did so. Making your lips curve everytime you catch him. 

The van wasn’t there. 

“Fuck.” 

“He left?” His tone was a bit agressive now, not at you, if anything he just was protective, so in consequence he seemed pissed that he had left you stranded. Alone. 

“I’m guessing he got lucky with the blonde.” You chuckled out of nervousness. Your hand playing with your hair, placing a strand of it behind your ear, trying to look everywhere but him. “S’fine, I’ll just call a taxi and wake Dustin up.”

“Shut up.” He scoffed, his arms crossing in front of his chest, looking down at you, a look of decision in his eyes. There was no way you were going home alone. “I’ll drive you, c’mon.” 

“I don’t have my keys.” You mumbled. “Dustin has mine. I was supposed to sleep over.”

“Then you’ll sleep over. Let’s go.” His hand reached out, an invitation you weren’t sure you should take, but do anyway. 

-

The car ride had been filled by music, and soft touches. Loving stares, and nervous chuckles. 

It really did feel like old times. 

It didn’t help that his house smelled the same, and time seemed to not move in the Harrington household. 

The only difference was the most noticeable of them all. All of the family pictures had been put down. 

“You changed it up.” You whispered as soon as you walked in, seeing the bare walls, were paint was darker where frames used to be. 

“They don’t live here anymore. So…” You knew he wanted to tell you about it, just as much as you knew he didn’t want to talk about it now, so you just nodded, and he understood what you knew. Words weren’t even necessary. 

“Who does?” You changed the topic, slightly, once you saw a jacket that wasn’t his hanged on the wall. 

“Robin.” He smiled, his face relaxing and becoming brighter. “Her parents didn’t really get the whole… uh… liking girls things.”

“Right, how is she?” You had wanted to reach out to her, but you weren’t sure if she’d wanted to hear from you, you worried, and Steve’s voice echoed in your head you worry too much.

“She missed you.” He confessed with a smile, starting to climb up the stairs, finding his way to his bedroom, you followed him closely. “We all did, I guess.” 

His head hung low for a second, remorse in his voice. Looking back at you for a moment before he turned on his bedroom light, his skin glistened under the moonlight that sneaked through his window. You smiled, seeing him in this light again, with the same background that you had becomed so familiar with once before. 

His walls where still the same colour, and bedsheets were still stripped. It smelled and felt the same as it had always done, and for a moment -however brief- you were back in time. 

You were eighteen again, and you were sneaking into his room for the first time again. 

The orangy bedside table filled the room again, and Steve had his boyish grin that had made you fall in love with him all those years ago. He looked at you, fondly, lovingly, melancholically, as you looked around, noticing the new photos on the wall. 

“Most of them are from Jonathan, some of them are your brother’s” You chuckled as you carefully looked at all of them, seeing what he had been up to. 

Him working at Family Video with Robin, him with his hands on his hips, apron on and full of flour with a rag over his left shoulder. Him asleep on the back of Eddie’s van. 

And your favourite one, Steve laing on your bed, looking straight through the camera, a smile that he was hiding behind his arm still evident by the way his face looks, barely woken up. You took that one, when he came to visit you, before you ended things. 

“You looked really beautiful.” You whisper, a tone of sadness could be noted on your voice. But your body relaxed when you felt him stepping closer to yours. 

“I don’t anymore?” He halved joked, the same lovesick look all over his face, his hair falling messily now that he had took his sweatshirt, hanging it back to you. A gesture that said you’re always cold before sleeping, you can wear it.

“Thanks.” You mutter before taking it, your body feeling his warmth through that piece of clothing. “You do. You always are.” 

He stood there for a second, and you could tell he wanted to say something he didn’t quite have the courage to do so. 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” He answered, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pressed. You scoffed as you shook your head. He knew that you were saying don’t lie, i know you better than anyone. “Think I’m still drunk.” 

“Maybe.” You admit with a half laugh, as you feel the weight of the alcohol that you did drink, and how it had swapped for tiredness not that the clock was closer to four. “You still have something in your mind.” 

“Yeah.” He stepped closer to you. His voice was softer, quieter, sweeter. And his eyes couldn’t stop looking at yours. Well, that might have been a lie, he did look at your lips once or twice. His hand reached for yours, nervous that you might pull away. But you never did. You never could. “I’m sorry.” 

“What for?” You squeezed his hand tighter, wanting that gesture to make his frown disappear, but you only see his anxiousness shine for a second. 

“I don’t know. Nothing? Everything?” 

“You’re not making that much sense, Stevie.” It had slipped out, the old nickname. You felt a bit embarrassed until you saw him smile. A true deep fond smile. 

“I know, honey.” His didn’t, he chose to say it. The dopiest grin that made your heart skip a beat came back, while his fingers played with yours. You could feel the warmness of your cheeks staying there. “I just… I meant everything I said, when we were together.” 

“What-?” 

He interrupted you, too iger to let you know what he had been thinking since he saw you through the club lights and the sea of drunk people. 

“I told you, you were the one I love. It hasn’t changed. I’ve tried, believe me. I tried to stop loving you, and move on, and be with someone else, anyone, but they never came close to you. Nobody knows me like you do, nobody can read me like you do, and I don’t think I can love anyone else like I have loved you.” 

With every word, with every breath your body came closer to his, excitement and electricity growing with every word that reached your ears, you couldn’t really believe that it was really happening. 

And you weren’t conscious about what you were doing before you did. You just knew that your right hand was tangled with his, and that your left one was cupping his cheek, looking fondly at his eyes before closing the distance between your lips. 

They were as soft as you remembered. And he still tastes the same as he did. 

You enjoyed it, for as long as you could, your heart beating as one, as your breathing synchronized, and his neediness became yours. Your kiss, this gesture, was enough, more than words could even say. 

“I haven’t stopped.” Your voice comes out lower, softer, quieter than you intended to. Your forehead pressed to his. Your eyes still closed, enjoying the way your breathing was mixing with his. 

“Thank god.” He giggled as he pulled you close once again. 

The second kiss was longer than the first one, but it still made your heart flutter, and your skin warming up in familiar desire. His free hand found his way to your waist, holding you closely, afraid that if he opens his eyes you might disappear. 

“We can talk about us, tomorrow.” 

“Yeah.” 

You buried his head on his chest, as he pushed you closer to him. A warm hug that you didn’t want to see the end of, a closeness that you’d missed, and that you hoped you didn’t have to miss again. 

The promise that tomorrow you’d wake up next to him again, and his warmth wrapping you up under the sheets let you actually rest for once.

-

if you enjoyed it please leave a comment or reblog. i promise it makes a huge difference <3

requests! are open

[leah-lover]

Royal support.

Jenni Hermoso x Alexia putellas x royal!reader

“ Your royal highness thank you very much for agreeing to give us some of your time today.” Said the interviewer.

You were sitting in a well lit room across from a camera. It was something you were very used to. Interviews and social conventions were a part of your job as monarch. You didn't love the attention but you didn't hate it either. You frequently used it as a way to connect with your future subjects as you were the heir to the Spanish throne. 

You used your very large platform to talk about social  issues that were important to you. This was a double edged sword but you were ready for every consequence. 

You were sitting in front of that camera today  for a specific purpose that was close to your heart. 

“ So your highness we are here so that you can deliver a statement to your people about a pressing matter that has taken Spanish news by storm.” 

“ Yes, indeed, we are here to talk about the crime committed against a member of the Spanish women's national team, Jenni Hermoso. What has been done by the RFEF is inexcusable and the people involved must be punished.”

“ What would your message be to your people, your royal highness?”

“ I think the message would be that what happened to Jenni Hermoso is only an example of what happens to women on a daily basis. I think we as a country need to stand in support of these women and believe them instead of ridiculing them in public. I once again reaffirm mine and the crown's support of Jenni Hermoso and every woman that has been through a similar experience. And I promise that I have my full attention on the matter and will personally see it through to the end.” you said firmly while looking at the camera in front of you. 

“ Do you have any plans of attending any of the upcoming games of the women's team?”

“ Yes I do, I am in fact going to support them at their next celebratory game.” 

“ Well thank you very much for your support, your highness.”

“ It is only my duty and thank you for being here “ you responded, shook her hand and got up leaving the interviewer to close out her segment. 

You then head towards the head of your security who then ushers you towards your room in the palace. 

Upon arriving you were met with your assistant and a few members of your father's council.

“ Princess, what you have said has now happened. Important people have sided with you and are now announcing their support for Jenni and for the entire national team just like you predicted.” Said your assistant. 

“ You gained the support of many which may help you in the future, your highness.” added one of the council men. 

After thanking them for the praise they offered you finished some pressing matters and then headed to bed. 

You kept your promise and attended the Spanish’s game which was now sold out. You sat in the royal box knowing cameras were going to document your every move. You were wearing a red and yellow jumpsuit so as not to favor a player for another. 

The game went well with Spain winning 5-0. After it was over and after much disagreement with your team you made your way to the field.

As soon as you stepped foot in the grass the crowd's shears were loud. You headed first towards the losing team and then made your way to your country’s team. You thanked everyone, shook their hands, gave most of them a hug, and took photos with all of them. You made it a spectacle for all to see your support of the women to which they have voiced their appreciation. 

When it was time for them to head to the locker room you asked your head of security to guide your special guests to a private room in the stadium. A room that only a few knew about which granted you the moment of secrecy you were craving.

You weren't an anxious person but this moment found you bouncing your leg in anticipation of the arrival of your lovers. Mere moments later the door opened to reveal the blonde and brunette Spaniards that stole your heart. You exchanged a nod with your head of security which meant that you wanted your privacy, and as soon as the door was closed the dark haired Spaniard made her way to you, picked you up and gave the tightest hug. 

“ Princesa, you can't believe how I have missed you.” whispered Jenni in your ear. After a few moments she put you down, grabbed your face locking her lips with yours in a messy, passionate kiss. Your lips danced together and it was like time has never passed since the last time you were together in her apartment. The kiss was cut short because of a series of forced coughts by your other lover. 

“ Mi Reina, no reason for jealousy.” You joked as you made your way to a now frowning beauty. You took her face in your hands and went in for a kiss. While Jenni's kiss was messy, Alexia's was soft and sweet. Together they were everything you needed and more. Jenni crept up behind you, pushed your hair to the side and started kissing you neck. Delighted, you threw your head back, placed your hands on Alexia's toned abs and enjoyed as they both pleased you, sucking gently as your neck. 

“ I have missed you so very much.” You moaned. Alexia and Jenni's hands were wandering all over your body. 

“ We have missed you too, Reina.” answered Jenni.

“ You were very sexy today out on the pitch. I am very proud of you both.” You responded. Then they both abruptly stopped. 

“ What's wrong?” You asked . 

“ Thank you. I know it wasn't easy supporting me publicly. “ Said Jenni while looking down on the floor. 

You raised her head up by her chin, looked her in the eyes and said “ don't ever say that, I love you, I love both of you, and I will do everything in my power to support you, whatever the cost.” 

A knock on the door interrupted your moment together. 

“ Your  highness, it's time to leave.” said your head of security through the door.

“ We will meet back at the hotel. I have booked a suit so that we can spend the night together. And I can reward you properly for all that you have done for the country.” you joked as you gave a kiss to both of them, each one lingering too long. 

“ Princess, your statement the other day has caused some commotion so it is best to go to the palace tonight.” said the head of your security. 

“ Antonio, I will go to that hotel tonigh. It is a non negotiable.” You reaffirmed to which he only nodded. 

The ride to the hotel was long as you were very eager to get in and get ready for your lovers. So you mindlessly opened the door of the car and got out only to be met by a sharp sound that caused  you to drop to the ground. You then felt a sharp pain in your abdomen, as blood covered your already red outfit. It took you a second to realize you were shot and you were bleeding. Your security hurried to your side. 

“ Don't worry princess, everything's gonna be fine.” assured your head of security as he picked you up. Screams filled up the air, orders were being barked everywhere but the only things you were thinking about were your girlfriends and how you werent gonna see them tonight. 

[lilsmv1]

orange cat - OP81

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

Summary: What happens your neighbour's adorable orange cat starts to pay you daily visits?

Word count: 1k

London welcomed me with its perpetually gray skies and damp weather, a stark contrast to the sunny shores of California I had left behind. As I settled into my new apartment, I couldn't help but feel a pang of homesickness for the warmth of home.

For the first few weeks, I hardly saw my neighbours, lost in the shuffle of unpacking and adjusting to my new surroundings. But one persistent visitor soon made himself known – a vibrant orange cat that would perch itself on my windowsill, peering into my living room with curious eyes.

At first, I found it amusing, but as the days went by and the cat became a regular fixture, I grew concerned. Surely, someone must be missing their furry friend. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands.

I scribbled a quick note on a yellow post-it, explaining the situation and tucking it under my neighbor's door. "Your cat seems to be visiting me often," I wrote. "Just wanted to let you know in case you're worried."

Days passed, and I received no response. I wondered if my neighbor had even seen the note or if they simply didn't care about their wandering pet.

But then, one evening, there was a soft knock on my door.

Opening the door, I found myself face to face with a handsome young man, his expression sheepish yet friendly. He held a small box in his hands, the smell of freshly baked pastries wafting from within.

"Hey, sorry to bother you," he began, his accent unmistakably Australian. "I'm Oscar, your neighbor from next door. I just wanted to apologize for my cat bothering you. And, well, to say thank you for looking out for him."

I couldn't help but smile at his genuine demeanor. "No problem at all, your cat is lovely, I was simply worried you might wonder where he was" I replied, accepting the box of pastries. "I'm glad to finally meet you, Oscar" I replied, introducing myself as well.

"Do you maybe wanna come in? I can make us some tea or coffee and we could eat the pastries you brought?" I added.

"I would love that!" replied Oscar with a warm smile.

From that moment on, Oscar and I struck up an unexpected friendship. We bonded over our shared love for his cat and baked goods, finding comfort in each other in the big city of London, so far from our respective homes. Oscar told me all about his work as a Formula One driver, and I could not help but be in awe of how passionate he was. I, on the other end, told him about the teaching opportunity that got me to move here, and I would often tell him cute stories from my classroom.

As weeks turned into months, our friendship deepened. Oscar proved to be not only a generous neighbor but also a reliable friend. Whether it was helping me fix a leaky faucet or lending a hand with heavy groceries, he was always there when I needed him.

Our weekly movie nights, whenever Oscar wasn't out of the country, became a cherished tradition, a welcome break from our everyday lives. We'd take turns picking films, debating over classics and hidden gems late into the night.

But amidst the laughter and camaraderie, I couldn't ignore the growing feeling in my chest whenever I saw Oscar. He was kind, funny, and undeniably attractive – qualities that drew me in despite my best efforts to keep my distance.

One day, as I scrolled through Twitter during a lazy afternoon, I stumbled upon something that caught me off guard. Pictures of Oscar, smiling brightly alongside a beautiful girl with long blonde hair.

A pang of jealousy shot through me, surprising in its intensity. I realised then, with startling clarity, that my feelings for Oscar ran deeper than I had initially thought. But it was too late – I was now pretty sure he was already taken, and I had no right to interfere.

Unable to shake off my newfound jealousy, I began to distance myself from Oscar, avoiding our usual interactions and retreating into solitude. But my sudden coldness did not go unnoticed.

One evening, there was a sharp knock on my door, and when I opened it, there stood Oscar, his expression a mixture of frustration and concern.

"What's going on with you?" he demanded, his voice tinged with hurt. "You've been acting strange lately, and I want to know why."

"I'm not" I replied defensively.

"Come on, don't give me that bullshit" replied a rather angry Oscar. "You've been avoiding me. Have I done something?" he asked, his voice laced with vulnerability.

I hesitated, the weight of my emotions heavy in the air between us. But then, with a surge of courage, I found myself blurting out the truth.

"I... I think I'm in love with you, Oscar," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. "And seeing you with someone else... it hurts more than I thought it would."

For a moment, there was silence, the tension palpable. But then, to my surprise, Oscar stepped forward, his eyes burning with intensity.

"God, you can be so dense sometimes" he breathed

"Hum, excuse me?" I replied, clearly offended.

"The girl you're talking about, that's my new PR manager."

"Oh..."

"I thought I was being fairly obvious as to how I feel about you." he said softly, reaching out to cup my face in his hands.

And with that, he closed the distance between us, his lips meeting mine in a heated and passionate kiss, leaving me breathless.

[ataliagold]

Flowers In Your Hair

For @astrangersummer week 3 prompt 'flowers'. Title from Flowers In Your Hair by The Lumineers.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: General

W/C: 1249

Tags: Post Series 4 Volume 2, Everyone Lives, Established Steddie, Fluff, Soft Steve Harrington, Steve Loves Yellow Flowers, Eddie Loves Steve, El and Max are best friends, summer, this is just softness

Summary: Eddie enlists some help to find the perfect flowers for Steve. Despite his own insecurities, Eddie is learning that his boyfriend loves soft things.

___

“Robin, what kind of flowers does Steve like?”

Eddie was draped over the Family Video counter, having stolen the barely-working desk fan air flow for himself.

Robin paused where she was rifling through the box of returned tapes to give him a confused look. “Flowers? Really?”

Eddie threw up a hand, then regretted it, because that had taken far too much effort in the stifling heat. “What? You think a man can’t buy flowers for another man? You judging me, Buckley?”

Robin scoffed. “No. Just…why flowers?”

“It’s romantic!” Eddie whined. “We have a date tonight and Steve loves that stuff. He might not say it, but he does. On Valentine’s Day I got him chocolates and roses and you should’ve seen his face, honestly if we hadn’t been in public I probably would’ve got on my knees there and then -”

Robin leaned over and slapped a hand across his mouth. “Jesus, enough.”

Eddie grinned behind her hand, and poked his tongue out to touch Robin’s palm.

She snatched it away with a shout, fake gagging behind the counter. “Munson, that was disgusting.”

Eddie shrugged. “You love me, though.”

“Steve loves you,” Robin corrected. “And so, by extension, I’m unfortunately forced to too.” She smiled a little, taking any sting out of her words. “Seriously though, the kids are over there, watch your mouth.” She dipped her head towards the sci-fi section, where Dustin and Mike were loudly arguing over which tape to rent for their next movie night. Max and El were hanging back, Max eagerly trying to explain a movie synopsis to El. Whatever it was, it sounded violent, and El looked confused.

Eddie leaned further over the counter, letting the weak breeze from the fan flick his hair around. “Help me?” he asked, batting his eyes at Robin.

She screwed up her nose a little before responding. “Honestly, I don’t know. You said you got him roses before, right? Did he like those?”

“Well, yeah, but I think he liked the gesture more than anything else.”

Robin shrugged. “Just get him anything, then. It’s from you, so he’ll love it.”

“But I want to get his favourite,” Eddie lamented. “He deserves the best.”

“Well, I agree with you there.”

“Eddie?”

A small voice sounded behind him, and Eddie summoned the energy to turn his head. El was standing behind him, looking a little shy.

“Yeah, supergirl?”

“You wanted to know Steve’s favourite flowers?”

Eddie slid off the counter a bit, straightening up. “Yeah, I do.”

El glanced between him and Robin for a moment. “Steve used to help me and Max with our hair. When mine was longer, we would make daisy chains and Steve braided them into my hair, he even let us put them in his sometimes. We tried to use other flowers sometimes but they did not stay together very well. But Steve’s favourites are yellow ones.”

And that…made sense, Eddie supposed. Yellow was Steve’s favourite colour, after all, but Eddie wasn’t sure where to find yellow flowers. He couldn’t afford much at the florist, and what flowers were yellow, anyway? Sunflowers? Where the hell would he get those?

Robin tugged his sleeve, pulled Eddie back to the counter so she could lean over and whisper, “The Klines have yellow roses growing by their fence.”

“The old Mayor?” Eddie asked with a frown.

“Yup.”

A smile slowly spread across his face.

“There are marigolds by the school field,” El added. “And yellow violas and tulips by the cabin. I can show you.”

And that was how, a short time later, Eddie was snapping off fragrant yellow roses at the stalk where they were poking out between the stark white pickets of Larry Kline’s fence. Max and El were standing further down the footpath, acting as lookouts while Eddie huddled by the fence and took his quarry as quickly as he could.

At the first surprised shout from inside the fence, he darted away, collecting the girls with a grin as he ran past them.

He threw back his head and laughed, roses clutched in his warm hand, Max beaming beside him.

“That guy’s an asshole,” she told Eddie as they jogged away from the house. “Serves him right.”

They couldn’t move too quickly – Max’s bones had healed, but she wasn’t exactly up to a sprint across town just yet. But they made it to Eddie’s van parked around the corner, and moved on to their next stop.

Just like that, Eddie spent the afternoon traipsing along with the two girls. El showed him where to find all sorts of different flowers, and Max went along because where El went, she went. It was hot, the sun baking them from above in a cloudless sky, but Eddie didn’t care – this was for Steve.

By the time they were finished, Eddie had gathered a large handful of flowers in all different shades of yellow and orange, and the girls had wrapped them in some plastic procured from Hopper’s cabin and poured some water into the bottom to keep them fresh in the summer heat.

“There,” El told him proudly, handing over the bouquet while Max tried to find some ribbon in a drawer to tie around it. “They’re pretty. Like Steve.”

Eddie spluttered a little at El’s directness. “Oh…yeah. Yeah, they are. He is.”

El nodded. “Max often says so, too.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Max yelled from El’s room.

Eddie smirked, because the girl’s little crush on his boyfriend was no secret. “It’s ok Max, I agree with you.”

Max stomped back towards them, slapped a length of gold ribbon into Eddie’s hands, and then took El’s arm and pulled her back towards the room.

Effectively dismissed, Eddie returned to his trailer to rush through a shower and getting changed, barely with enough time left to get to Steve’s before their dinner plans.

Waiting in front of his boyfriend’s door, Eddie passed the bouquet from hand to hand, a little nervous.

This is stupid.

Steve Harrington, former jock supreme, once-captain of the basketball team, nail-bat wielding badass wasn’t going to appreciate some yellow flowers.

Eddie almost turned tail. Almost tossed the flowers into the back of his van to be dealt with later, almost gave in to the nerves in his stomach.

Almost.

Because there was a softness to Steve that Eddie was learning to know and love. It was in the way he treated the kids, the way he gently held Eddie’s hand, the way he baked cookies when his friends were coming over and apparently braided flowers into the girls’ hair.

Eddie took a deep breath, clutched his yellow flowers, and knocked on the door.

It opened after a moment.

“Eds, hey, sorry I just gotta get my shoes on -” Steve trailed off as he took in the sight of Eddie standing there, flowers gripped in shaky hands.

Eddie cleared his throat, held out the bouquet. “For you. If, um…if you want them. Sorry if it’s stupid, I wanted to get you something but I couldn’t afford much and El told me you liked yellow flowers so I spent the afternoon going around town and finding them, and the roses actually involved some petty theft but -”

Steve took the flowers with one hand, and pulled Eddie through the door with the other, lips seeking his mouth and swallowing the rest of his sentence.

When they finally pulled apart, Eddie smiled shyly. “You like them, then?”

“I love them, Eds.”

___

[jellyvibes710]

PART 3

Previous

Next

(Previous bonus part)

TW: dead animal

blood (if you look really fucking hard)

Glitchy effects (I tried to go easy on it to avoid straining your eyes too much)

Enjoy!! :D

To all those wondering where Leo was, here he is! An he’s sure been busy

@abbeyofcyn lookie lookie, it’s done! I’ve been trying new things too, like angles and perspective✨

This takes place about a day later around 3:30am, so he’s had plenty of time to himself to put his plans in motion >:3c

I’m so excited for what’s to come heheheee

I got a little Carried away with the details in this part but it was so worth it. I tried typing the words on this part and immediately gave up because it was irritating, everyone is stuck with my crappy handwriting forever

Anywizzle, here’s Leo’s character sheet :D

Don’t mind the boxes, they aren’t important

…yet.

I decided to remove the torn suit jacket so that Leo would pop out more and not get lost in the background (ended up adding the yellow/orange glow to avoid the same thing with Donnie) and to also really draw your eyes to him because well, he is the center of attention ✨

Off to the next part!

[demonicbaby666]

Daddy’s Home

One Shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds 

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 2k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, top!JJ, bottom!reader, daddy kink, cursing, asphyxiation, strap-on use (reader!recieiving), face fucking, rough sex, face slapping, brief mention of blood, little bit of degradation in there also

Summary: JJ comes home and needs to blow off some steam...

A/n: This was a little rushed and proofread at like 6am but I hope y’all still enjoy! <3

This was the way you liked it. You craved the hard pounding, the force of scolding slaps and the sizable bruises they left behind. Love was a language you knew to be best spoken in pain, and you were happy to have found someone who thought the same. JJ had surprised you many a time before, but the first time her fingers wrapped around your throat, squeezing so tight you felt your eyes bulge, was the moment you started seeing things through rose-tinted glasses. Now, a year and a half later, JJ still applied as much ferocity to the way she fucked you. 

When you heard her entering the house, the digital alarm clock beside your bed read 11:43, and it was an easy conclusion to come to that it would be one of the nights JJ would find her way to bed and crash out. You were sorely mistaken. With a click of the nightstand lamp, you rolled over to see your fiance's radiant look of hunger glow ominously over yellow light. In a split second, she pounced, flinging the duvet to the floor. JJ allowed herself two seconds to watch the sudden pebbling of your nipples before she forcefully pushed your negligee up, silk gathering in folds just above your breast, and placed her lips around a raised bud. 

She suckled hard and sought the help of her teeth to bring pain into the fold. With a drawn-out tug, your nipple was pulled further and further away from your chest, so far your stomach tensed, and a small cry broke from your throat—the sting resembling that of a sharp needle. You were held in place by the firm pressure JJ was applying to your shoulders and the weight of her body resting on your hips, but that didn't last long. Once satisfied she had paid equal amounts of attention to your breasts, leaving them both wonderfully sore, the blonde got back up to her feet. Standing above you again, she admired her handiwork, looking over forming and fading hickeys alike; she gleamed with pride. 

"Take it off," JJ ordered, nodding to the thin fabric still gathered below your neck. An arrogant smile crept over her lips as she continued. "Daddy's not going to fuck you unless you're naked and spread for me." 

The fact would always remain: no matter how many times you'd seen the ethereally nude form of your fiance, you would always be left breathless. Of course, this was known not only by yourself but by the woman who stood confidently undoing buttons, unfastened zippers, and removing article after article of clothing that fell to the floor with a dull thud. Beautifully bare, JJ looked down, an arrogant curling of her lips forming an elusive smile. She took fluid steps away, and with an added sway to her hips, the blonde turned and padded over to the closet, where she bent down to open and rummage through your sizable toy box. 

In favour of meeting earlier demands, you turned your sights to the slim spaghetti straps hanging off your shoulders. The faint sound of rummaging dulled by the delicate swish of silk passing overhead, and, if only for a few seconds, the blanketed feel of its balmy texture removed the trepidation that was forcing its way into your stomach, churning and squeezing at the contents of your dinner. By the time your teddy drizzled off the side of the bed, pooling on the bedroom carpet to join the rotting duvet, JJ had found what she needed. You saw little with her back to you, but it was still enough. The click of a lid, the squeeze of a bottle, a familiar sultry moan and then, in the blink of an eye, JJ stood at the end of the bed, harness-free, cocky as ever. 

With only a pat of her palm to the space in front of her, you were up on your knees, scurrying forward, ready to serve. 

"You know what to do," JJ spoke sternly, expectantly. 

Your bemusement, understandable as it was, was taken as an insult. A stinging slap of silicone greeted the side of your face, shocking your mouth open, in turn allowing JJ to freely glide the length of her cock through your parted lips. She wasted no time, fingers immediately in your hair, nails scraping along your scalp, until finally, with her grip secure, she yanked you forward. 

This was something you had yet to do, the logic being neither the recipient nor the benefactor garnered any pleasure. So the immodest act of giving head had never entered your and JJ's love life. Yet, as the blunt end of the dildo prodded the back of your throat, causing you to gag, a sound came from above you—a sound that was far from dissatisfaction. A rising heat spread across your chest the second time you let JJ fuck her length into your throat, once again hearing her make the same sound. By the third time, the tremors in your hands had evaporated into the charged air around you, giving way to the opportunity not only to relax your throat and allow yourself to be used but in addition encourage it. 

Quickly enough, with your hands posted on JJ's hips, you guided her fastening movements, hoping to convey your approval without the feeble need for words. However, if the implication was received, JJ showed no thanks. She only worked her cock harder into your mouth till tears were dripping down your face, and even then, she continued to thrust along to every cut-off whimper, growling as though the 9 inches filling your mouth indeed was an extension of herself. Admittedly, in a way, they were. 

Your windpipe felt raw, tender and bruised. Your head was light, fuzzy and in need of sufficient oxygen. Still, you made no complaint, took what was readily given, and even prepared your thanks. It was when your watery eyes had, of their own accord, met with the winter grey of JJ's that she snapped back to her senses. Slipping out, your fiance used the pads of her thumbs to wipe away the mess of saliva surrounding your mouth, and the funny thing was, there was so much care in the way she did it that you didn't even glance at the possibility of feeling embarrassed. 

"Thank you," you croaked, eager to appease even if it was detrimental to the recovery of your vocal cords. 

"You did a good job, baby," she praised from above, the sincerity in her voice so clear and bright that the capillaries of your cheeks filled red. JJ lined her middle and forefinger to your bottom lip, dragging it down in liquid motion, her eyes predatorily filled black. "Now, you get your reward." 

The pop of your lip set in motion the whirlwind of movements that next occurred. First - hands moved from taming your mane and cleaning your face to your shoulders. Second - a force had you reeling back. Your neck protested with a soft click as the thudded collision of your head hitting the mattress breathed life to - third - JJ's fingers, calloused yet soft, harsh yet gentle, demanding yet patient, roaming all over you. They started at your legs, prying them open to make room for her toned body to lay. Then, flittering over your stomach, up and up, blunt nails skirting over the ridges of your ribs, to finally mount their attack of piercing pinches to your nipples. Throughout, the presence of her additional appendage did not go unnoticed—enticingly weighing on your pelvis. The spluttering moans, whimpers and mewls only grew louder when the slide of JJ's hips had her length sliding into wet heat, running along your slit, offering the slightest of relief to the burning embers of desire low in your stomach. 

A shudder rode the column of your spine, rattling each vertebra, an appropriate response to another slide of hips and an accompanying bite to your throat. By the time the sporadic spasms of your cunt walls grew too much, ceaselessly reminding you that you were clenching around thin air, and led to pleading murmurs, JJ relented. She pulled back, only to quickly line herself up and catapult forward, hipbones crashing into the sides of your ass with a smack. All the air in your lungs left you with your next breath, so shallow you felt your stomach dip. It was big, she was big. And the sheer stretch of her penetrating your pulsing pussy told you that, indeed, this toy was being christened. A vague memory of a drunken purchase between two giggling adults flashed in your mind. There were no giggles now, only grunts, bated breathing and wistful cries. 

"Daddy's little cock sleeve," JJ whispered into the shell of your ear. Her smirk was not visible, but you needn't see when it licked each syllable that slid off her slippery tongue. It was a vile comment, heavy and grotesque, sickeningly and perfectly demeaning. It had you nodding your head and drooling like one of Pavlov's dogs. 

The submergence into deep water was a quick one. The muffling of your cries, the ringing in your ears, seeing only the black behind your closed eyes resemble the night sky so far out of reach, had you falling faster and faster, deeper and deeper into the abyss. You swayed and shook, breathed and breathed and breathed, but took in no air. Your lungs burned with effort as your body sweltered under the freezing jab of each savage push of JJ's prick. It was everything at once: pain, pleasure, love, carnal lust. It was the way you liked it: the hard pounding, the rough kisses, the hand wrapping around your throat to squeeze and squeeze and squeeze. 

"Yes, yes, fuck!" you screamed through the gaps of your teeth. It was raw and broken, rasping and bouncing off the lining of your abused throat. Your following sentence forced its way out in the same manner, this time interspersed between harsh bursts of breath. "Needed to be filled with daddy's big cock so bad." 

JJ read you better than anyone ever had or ever would. She read the different pitches of your moans like music, following the crescendo with rapt recognition. She knew from the pink flush spindling across your chest, rising to your neck and cheeks, the sudden quiet that filled the room, and the vacant cries coming out of your mouth like condensation that you were nearing your end. 

"Wait," JJ spat. 

Your eyes flew open, revealing the unyielding bite of a piercing gaze. Then came the sting of her slap, both poisonous and arousing. It tore a hole through the tension in your stomach, successfully distracting you long enough for JJ to fall onto her elbows. The whole length of her cock penetrated you—so deep it skirted along the edge of unbearable. But as the slow grind began, and the sound of low moans rumbled by the side of your head, when the suppressed sound of your cunt juices mixed with JJ's filled your ears, you knew. You knew you'd do this ten times over if only it meant the body above you was attaining even the slightest bit of pleasure. And, if the increasingly occurrent noises were anything to go by, JJ was indeed in a state of bliss, the dual end of her cock rubbing perfectly against her g-spot with every languid slide of her hips. 

Tension was building again. Pulsing. Consuming. Suffocating. The world was still again as you sunk. The current moved your body for you, pushed your tailbone into the mattress, only to move it up again and force another circulatory orbit to the prodding length that caressed your sweet spot. Your hands found their way to tender flesh, marring crescent moons so deep they may have hindered JJ's ability to sit without pain. 

JJ grew louder. You grew quieter. 

Your back arched, and you scrambled for JJ. You found her lips, took the bottom between your teeth and forced her to endure a modicum of the pain you were enduring just to abide by her rules. 

Defiantly, JJ yanked her lip back, ignoring the drops of red that fell to your cheek. Her hand, previously hellbent on turning your face blue, gripped your jaw, and she teased her ability to crush it, squeezing so tight you heard the whisper of a crack. Lips swollen, eyes fierce, body rocking, she uttered the phrase - sultrily, dominate and firm - that was to be both of your undoings. 

"Come for daddy." 

Tags: @aws-l @babygirlscout @red1culous @7thavenger @sapphicprentiss @five-bi-five-mind @12fluffybunny12 @asensitivecookie @maxinehufflepuffprincess @whosprentiss @imlike-so-gaydude @taylorswiftsboyfriend @jareguiromanoff @lovelyy-moonlight @patronagrona @paulilvsremus @lostenby @waitaminutebaby @jarexuslover @iliketozoneout @homo-oddity @milfsincrime @noahrex | click here to be added to my taglist

[hedgehog-moss]

I realised I hadn't posted a greenhouse report since spring, and today seemed like a good day for a 2023 home-grown food review!

2023 was a great year for fruit; my apple & plum trees were so generous! In the greenhouse my most successful crops were tomatoes, red chilli peppers, beans, and pickles. I was able to make spicy plum chutney using my own plums, onions and peppers:

On the other hand I was unlucky with my non-greenhouse vegetables, there were so many insects this year and my courgettes got absolutely decimated. But then I complained about my bad courgette luck to some neighbours and was gifted 9 courgettes and 3 pumpkins. I spent the first half of my autumn cooking and freezing and pickling and preserving to try not to let anything go to waste; I made:

7 jars of pesto (with greenhouse basil); 8 jars of pasta sauce (with courgette-pumpkin-tomato-red peppers-onions-basil, + parmesan); an unknown but large amount of pumpkin-tomato soup (I put them in empty glass bottles and freeze them); 7 jars of spicy plum chutney; 2 small bottles of spicy oil for my pizzas (with some of my chilli peppers; the rest are still drying by the stove to become chilli powder); 5 jars of plum jam and 3 of blackberry jam (I also froze several kg of whole blackberries for winter desserts); 6 jars of pickles (they are delicious!! I'd never pickled pickles before this year, I'm really happy with the result); 12 small bottles of elderberry syrup; 4 large bottles of elderflower syrup; hundreds of little apple sweets; several bottles of apple juice; an absolutely dizzying amount of apple puree / compote / jelly, because I refused to leave any leftover apples for the dormouse population. They are not my friends.

(If you think I'm being too mean to the dormice, please know that a) they are unrepentant thieves; b) I became so competent at hiding my apples that a dormouse ended up sneaking into the shower at night to eat my soap. My bar of homemade (not by me) goat milk soap. It's hazelnut scented so I guess if you're a rodent it just smells like lunch.)

I took some stuff out of the freezer just long enough to take this family picture; though I already gave away a lot of things to guests and neighbours, so it's just what's left! (I also froze enough chopped onions to last until summer I think)

I am terrible at labelling my jars; in my hubris I always assume I'll just remember where I put which kind of sauce or flavour of compote. I never remember. I end up having to give my guests mystery jars, like "this is fruit jelly! Made with... fruits"

So it wouldn't get too monotonous I added various fruits to my apple purees: apple-raspberry, apple-blueberry, -plum, -blackberry... I also made a few jars of apple-pineapple-pumpkin compote because I had too much pumpkin and I regret not focusing on that from the start, this combo tasted so good and was the most cheerful yellow colour.

I finally used my last apples last week, making apple-quince paste which is currently drying in order to become sweets. I bought some pretty & thick paper to origami a few boxes to put them in, so I'll have New Year presents for my courgette-providing neighbours. <3

(My cats are currently banned from this room so they won't try to lick the fruit paste) (they don't even like it, they're just cats)

[mandarinmoons]

Hi Kettle, I was wondering if I could request perhaps a small fluff blurb where you and Spencer get married and live happily ever after in ur dream house. No pressure xoxoxoxo

You know I'm not one for writing something too self indulgent, but I could never pass up a request from you sweetheart hehe. Not exactly written as per request, but I think it's cute and that's all that matters x

“Hold on, I got it!”

Spencer grabbed the box out of your arms after you not even holding it for five seconds. You weren’t the strongest person, sure, but you were able to lift a few pounds, or twenty.

“Spencer, I can handle it. I’m not going to crack like a piece of China.”

“That might be true, but you definitely need to be handled with care as if you were a piece of fine porcelain.”

A chuckle left your lips as Spencer pressed a kiss to your cheek and strode off as he took a box of kitchen ware to the correct place.

A cool breeze brushed over your skin and you went to close the ajar patio door, but the sight of falling colorful leaves invited you to step outside and admire the beauty. Fall was your favorite season and no one was going to stop you from taking a moment to enjoy it.

Walking out and breathing in the crisp morning air felt satisfying beyond words. Spring is usually the time of year for people to start anew and get a fresh start, but for you, that feeling crept up during the last few weeks of summer. Relieved didn’t even begin to describe how you felt when your skin didn’t feel as clammy anymore due to the sweat brought on by the summer sun and as you packed away the swimsuits and made room again for the cozy sweaters.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when a hand snaked around your waist and were brought against their chest, but feeling the familiar sensation of nuzzling against your hair made you keenly aware who the person was and accepted the sweet gesture.

“What’re you thinking about?”

“Just how perfect everything seems.”

“I second that thought.”

Spencer’s thumbs caressed your side as you both took in the sight in front of you. Piles of red, orange and yellow foliage gathered around the backyard and in the distance you saw squirrels gathering up all the acorns they could find. All the greenery around you seemed to be wilting, but you found comfort in the fact that in due time it would bloom all over again.

“Do you want to go in and have some tea?”

“In a moment, I want to savor the feeling just a little bit longer.”

“Aren’t you cold though?”

You chuckled as you turned your head to look at the man behind you. His cheeks were already tinted pink from the cold, meanwhile you hadn’t felt a chill go down your spine since he took you in his embrace.

“As long as I’m in your arms I could never be cold.”

Spencer nuzzled his face into your hair more, leaving a trail of light kisses behind, “Good to know I’m doing my job well.”

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[lovexdeepspace]

All the Love and Deepspace boys react when you make a homemade scarf for them?

Thank you very much and hope all is well.

“made with love.”

summary; a gift is best when it comes from the heart.

warnings; none! enjoy the sweetness <3

note; aaaaa some fluff to break the angst cycle !! ty for the sweet request !!

( to be formatted in the future )

a box awaits each of the boys, wrapped neatly with a note attatched.

rafayel…

… immediately calls you, panicking that some crazed fangirl or someone he wronged in the past has found his address.

“what if it’s a bomb?” he shouts into the phone, peering through the crack in his front door at the box. “or worse! what if it’s some woman’s used underwear?!”

you fail to contain your laughter on the other end of the call, covering your mouth as you double over.

“how can you laugh in such dire times?” rafayel wails, clutching the phone to his ear. “this isn’t funny!”

after a moment you were finally able to compose yourself and say, “the box is from me, dumbass. i dropped it off on my way to work this morning. i tried to give it to you personally but someone wouldn’t answer the door.”

cue a sheepish chuckle from rafayel as he opens his front door and stoops down to open the gift then and there. he smiles to himself as he finds a blue hand knit scarf sitting in the box, his fingers running gently along the material.

“it’s so soft,” he says softly and you laugh again, amused by his genuine reaction. “i’m putting it on and never taking it off.”

“so dramatic,” you mumble, cradling the phone between your shoulder and ear as you pick up your book once more. the line went silent and you quirk a brow. “rafayel?”

your phone buzzes and you pull it away from your shoulder to find three image attachments sent your way with more piling in every second. each photo is one of rafayel in a different, exaggerated pose with the scarf wrapped around his neck. you laugh at his theatrics and save a couple to your camera roll before shooting him a quick text.

you look like a dork.

he answers immediately, as to be expected from your clingy artist:

i think i look amazing

xavier…

… opens the box as soon as he pulls it in his apartment without a single concern. if anyone could handle some danger, it’s him, so why worry?

the yellow scarf is soft in his lap as he reads the card you wrote for him, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. he sets the little card aside and wraps the scarf loosely around his shoulders before pushing himself off his couch, sending you a text that he’s coming over.

it doesn’t take long for him to arrive at your front door or for him to fish out the spare key you had given him, unlocking the door and pushing his way in. xavier shuffles into your apartment, leaving his shoes by the door as he calls out your name. he moves from the main room to your bedroom, finding you sprawled out on your bed. without a second thought he crawls into bed beside you, startling you awake.

“huh — wha? xavier?” you lay back down, groaning. “scared the shit outta me.”

xavier hums and pulls you into his embrace, your face burying in his chest. “i got your gift and needed to come say thank you.”

“you couldn’t have just texted me?” you ask sleepily, wrapping your arms around his midsection. “you’re welcome, by the way. tara taught me how to knit and she gave me some extra yarn. i thought the color would suit you.”

you pull back a little and eye the scarf around his neck before adding, “it does suit you.”

xavier nods in agreement, kissing your forehead. “you have a good eye.”

zayne…

… completely forgets about the gift. one day he comes into the office to find a box on his desk and makes a mental note to open it after his first patient.

then one patient becomes two back to back emergency surgeries and by the time that was all complete it was well into the night. finally having a second to himself, zayne plops down on his couch and leans his head back. his eyes finally close only to snap open again at a knock on his door.

“zayne, i brought you some dinner,” you say as you open the door to his office. he lets out a sigh of relief and relaxes once more as you shut the door behind you, setting the lunchbox on his desk. “oh! you still haven’t opened it?”

“opened what?” zayne asks, turning his head slightly to look at you. you pick up the gift on his desk and hold it out to him. “oh, that. i assume it’s from you, then?”

you nod excitedly and place the box on his lap. “go on, open it!”

“i’m sorry, today’s been a hectic day,” zayne apologizes as he carefully opens the box. the stress melts away as he looks into the box at a black hand-knit scarf with a small smile. “you made this?”

you take a seat next to him, reaching over and grabbing the scarf out of the box as he reads the card. “i did! and since you’re mr. jack frost over here, i think a scarf is the perfect accessory! do you like it?”

you wrap it haphazardly around his shoulders and zayne sets the card down on the coffee table before fixing it around his neck.

“out of all the gifts you’ve given me over the years, i think this one might just be my favorite,” he replies, placing a hand on your knee as he leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. “thank you, sunshine.”

[oneforthemunny]

how you like them apples |cowboy!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: you surprise eddie with his favorite fall treat, and, oh, is he surprised.

since i'm feeling so fall, i decided to write a ficlet around my love cowboy!eddie. also follows the lore that sweet girl is not the best cook lmao. super fluffy. genuinely nothing but the sweetest fluff and love.

Your head turned at the rumble of the truck, moving slowly down the gravel driveway towards the house. Eddie always drove much slower than you, always on to you about speeding down the gravel, flinging it everywhere. 

The red truck’s bed was filled with lumber, left over from the recent renovations the Ives’ family had done to their new fence, just up the road- well, that’s what Eddie always said, it was more like a good ten miles away. Irvine Ives had called Eddie up last night, asked him if he wanted it before he took it to the junkyard. He knew Eddie was repairing a patch in the fence a Bronco he was training had kicked out. 

“Back so soon?” You grinned, pressing a hand over your brows to shield you from the September sun. Not as bright as it was in June, but still unforgiving in the middle of the day. 

“Yep, wasn’t much, but I think I got what I needed.” Eddie hummed, turning the key and killing the ignition, cigarette still lit between his fingers. “Think I got enough to patch it though. Just gonna need to repaint it since it’s not the same kinda wood.” 

Your brows raised, walking over towards the driver’s side, leaning in towards the window. “I can help you with that.” You hummed, breathing in the cloud of smoke he exhaled with a content sigh. “I love to paint.” 

Eddie grinned back at you, a soft crease in his dimples that made your body buzz with excitement. “Yeah? We can go to town tomorrow if I get this done. Pick out a color.” 

“That sounds like fun.” You beam. “I was going to say we need to go to the grocery anyways, so that works out.” You hum, a large brown bag catching your attention, nestled beside Eddie in the passenger seat. 

“What’s that?” You ask, leaning on the door to see. “Apples?” 

“Yeah, Mrs. Ives insisted I take a few. Said their trees were overflowin’ with ‘em.” Eddie nodded towards the bag, lightly tapping your hand to move, opening the truck’s door. “Figure I’d give a few to Medusa. Try to do something with the rest, maybe.” 

You nodded slowly, wheels in your mind already spinning with an idea. Eddie handed you the apples, cradling the bottom until you got your grip on the heavy bag. “‘M gonna go start on this. Try to get it done today.” 

“Ok,” You hummed, hugging the apples to your chest. “Have fun, baby.” 

Eddie snorted in laughter, head ducking down, stealing a quick kiss from you. “I shouldn’t be too long.” He looked back at you, eyes narrowing in suspicion as you simply nodded, pulling the screen door open and slipping in the kitchen. 

Normally, you’d offer to come help him, sit with him and talk about nothing in particular, and hand him the tools while he worked. Not this time. You didn’t seem mad, or upset- really, you seemed perfectly happy. Which left him a little suspicious. 

The clanging of a large, steel pot falling on the floor soothed his worries, left him grinning to himself in humor as he started off to the barn. 

“Sift? What does- like move it around?” You muttered, brows pinched in concentration that was teetering on annoyance. Your eyes squinted in concentration, trying to decipher the loopy, old school cursive on the faded, yellowed recipe card in front of you. 

The first time you found the recipe box, it was buried under piles of other things, lost in the mess that was Eddie’s bachelor pad before you moved in- really, before you were in his life. His Mamaw Munson’s recipes, all her best dishes, all in one tin box. He sat in the kitchen with you between his legs, he’d poured over each one, told you which ones were his favorite, sometimes even added a little anecdote that had you beaming with joy. 

“Oh, this one was one of my favorites, baby,” Eddie had said, eyes lighting as they scanned over the card. 

“Apple Cobbler. She’d bake it in this cast iron skillet so it’d stay hot, and we’d put vanilla ice cream over it- holy shit, it was so good.” Eddie swallowed his drool, he could practically taste it still. “She used to have an apple tree before it got blown away by this bad tornado one year. But she’d go and pick them every fall when they were ripe, and she’d always make it for us. It was my favorite thing.” 

Looking at the recipe in front of you, you could see why Eddie loved it so much. It did sound really good. 

It was just very complicated. 

“Take your peeled- shit,” You looked at the sliced apples, still with the skin on, in the bowl in front of you. “Why wouldn’t you say that before I added the other stuff, Mamaw?” You huffed, pulling the drawer open for the whittling knife. 

The kitchen was a disaster, sticky and flour filled, bowls piling high in the sink; and you hadn’t even gotten halfway through the recipe. Grabbing a handful of the butter and sugar rolled apples, you placed them on the counter’s free space, carefully carving around the edge where the skin was. 

This isn’t too bad, not taking as long as I thought it would, You thought to yourself, finally in a grove of cutting around the skin, tossing the apple back in the mixture. 

A smoky, sugary, thick smell alerted your senses on your last few apples. Turning, you saw the filling that was supposed to be simmering, now bubbling with thick, burnt globs in the pot. You grabbed the handle with a panic, shoving it to the free stove eye, turning the hot one off. 

The mixture, which was supposed to be a light caramel brown, was a deep dark molasses shade. You lifted the whisk, cringing at the toughness of the gooey substance. “It’s ok,” You shook your head lightly, looking at the clock. “That’s- whatever. It’ll bake and soften in the oven.” 

Pulling out the pan, you shoved the now skinless apples to the bottom, scraping the hardened filling mixture on top. The wooden spoon nearly broke trying to mix it in, sticking out of the cemented filling. 

You could see Eddie through the small window over the sink, down to the last stake in the fence, already beginning the wiring. He’d be done soon, this had to cook for forty-five minutes, and the kitchen was a disaster. 

“It’s fine, it’ll be fine.” You muttered to yourself, pouring the batter on top, not bothering to smooth it out like the instructions said- there was no time for that Mamaw. Instead, you slid it in the oven, turning the timer. 

Eddie came in just as you’d finished putting your last dish away. Your body surged with excited heat, smug that you might actually get away with your little surprise- well, as long as he didn’t go to the back porch, where the burnt filling was in the pan, cemented in. 

“Mm,” Eddie sniffed the air, sugary and a little… smoky? “Smells good in here, baby.” He gave you a dazzling smile, hoping you wouldn’t pick up the hesitancy in his tone. 

It was no secret that you weren’t exactly the best cook. Not that Eddie cared, but after you almost burnt the house down making lasagna, he was a little weary when you’d cook. 

“Does it?” Your eyes lit up, filled with excitement that he wouldn’t dare take from you. Whatever you’d made, no matter how charred or inedible it was, he’d scarf it down with a grin if it’d make you happy. Even if it gave him food poisoning like the chicken ala king did. 

“Yeah, what’re you makin’?” Eddie reached for the oven’s handle. 

You pushed it closed with a click of your tongue, smacking his hands away. “Don’t.” You shook your head. “It’s a surprise.” 

And you were true to your word. It certainly was a surprise. 

When you placed the concoction in front of Eddie, grinning so big, so proudly, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but grin back. “Wow, you, uh, you made this for me, sweetheart?” He smiled, eyeing the plate in front of him. 

“Yes,” You giggled, topping the runny dough on top with a scoop of ice cream. “You said it was your favorite, and when you brought the apples home, I just thought I’d surprise you.” You chirped, sliding him a spoon. “I followed your Mamaw’s recipe.”

“You spoil me, sweet thing. You know that?” Eddie smiled, heart swelling at the sentiment. You really did spoil him, were too good and too sweet to him- even if you’re cooking wasn’t as good. 

“Try it.” You sat next to him, bursting with excitement. “I know it won’t be as good as hers, but I think I did a good job on it.” 

Eddie looked down at the plate, swallowing the dread building in his throat. He dug his spoon, sawing it through the thick middle until it finally came out in a clean cut. Taking a large scoop of ice cream, hoping it would mask the flavor, he took a bite. 

“Is it good?” You leaned forward, eyes rounded in hopefulness, scanning his features eagerly. 

Eddie hummed, his teeth cemented together from the filling, sure his crown might pop out from the material. The filling was tough, the dough undercooked and lacked something that made it rise, but the apples were delicious- just like his Mamaw’s except…

“Oh,” Eddie winced before he could help it, finger digging in his mouth. He pulled out the hard thing that was wedged in his molar, turning it with a brow raised. “Is that- is that a seed?” 

Your face fell, looking at the seed back at Eddie. “Well, yeah, from the apples.” You said, heart skinning in your chest. “I didn’t- it didn’t say to take them out or anything, so I just left them in.”

Eddie swallowed, stomach turning lightly at the bite. “No, it’s- I mean, it’s good, baby. Some people take them out, but- no, this is, it’s really good.” He nodded, smiling at you gently. “‘S really good.” 

“Really?” You squeaked. “Better than the muffins?” 

“Yes,” Eddie said truthfully, whole heartedly. That was the truth, this was so much better than the mess that was the blueberry muffins. “So much better. This is really good, sweetheart. You really surprised me. Too sweet of ya to do this.” 

You squealed, hugging him tightly, legs straddling his waist in the chair, lips pressing kisses over his cheeks, his chin, his lips. Eddie’s arms wrapped around you, squeezing you into him, playfully nipping at your jaw to hear you squeal, before his lips caught yours, pulling you into a heated kiss. He’d eat all your burnt cobblers if it meant you’d be happy like this, if it made you this happy.