#striped beige couch

[scrapxrat]

Patio - Gazebos

Ideas for a brick patio renovation in the middle of the backyard with a fire pit and a gazebo.

[elenadoeslife]

~ home sweet home ~

[maximalismdaybyday]

Source

[lawlietisawesome]

Eclectic Living Room - Living Room Inspiration for remodeling a mid-sized eclectic living room with an open concept, a beige carpet, a bar, white walls, a standard fireplace, a plaster fireplace, and no television.

[kriosgat]

Contemporary Living Room - Enclosed Image of a medium-sized, contemporary living room with a light wood floor, white walls, a metal fireplace, and a wall-mounted television.

[kellerdavis]

Denver Game Room Example of a large transitional loft-style carpeted game room design with beige walls, no fireplace and a wall-mounted tv

[monikabose]

Uncovered - Traditional Deck An illustration of a medium-sized, traditional backyard deck without a cover

[animublog]

Craftsman Sunroom Inspiration for a sizable craftsman sunroom renovation with a beige floor and a standard ceiling but no fireplace.

[beansprean]

Me, the ultimate Lily apologist, understanding Nadja enough to know she would be a hater kdjhfdk. Throwback to the very beginning of the comic!

My Familiar's Ghost Masterpost Masterpost 2

See the latest pages on Patreon!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Waist up of vampire Guillermo hugging Nadja from behind with a contented smile, eyes closed. Nadja whips her head around to look at him with a confused snarl, asking, 'Why are you hugging me?!' Guillermo replies, 'Because you saw me when I was invisible.' 2. Repeat. Nadja's hands have dropped from their startled flight to cover Guillermo's at her midsection. They both look back, Guillermo in annoyance and Nadja in confusion, when Colin Robinson pops into frame with a smile and says 'The Princess Diaries, 2001.' 3. Full body of Colin and Nadja sitting on a couch, Guillermo cross-legged on the floor in front of them, as they all watch The Princess Diaries together. They are all wearing pajamas; Colin in a beige striped set and slippers, Guillermo in a blue striped set, and Nadja in a pink Victorian nightgown with her hair up in a bun. Nadja is pointing at the TV and demanding, 'She should just kill this bitch of a friend already!' Guillermo bats a hand upward at her without taking his eyes from the screen and says, 'Nonono, Lily's cool, they make up. It's very relatable.' Nadja shoots back, 'They better do it quick before I rip those stupid pig's tails from her stupid head!!' Colin is sitting with his legs crossed at the knee, texting with a contact called 'Stu-bear' on his phone. He types, 'What would you think if I grew giant sideburns?' Stu writes back, 'Hmm. I mean. Is it just the sideburns or w/ hair? I like you bald.' /end ID

[ucitavanje]

Family Room Loft-Style (Atlanta)

[millersfinest]

the thing in your chest that beats ⁴ | e.w

santa barbara!ellie williams & ex-firefly!reader

wc: 5.9k

mini-series: california | oregon | idaho | wyoming (you’re here)

tags: @elliecoochieeater

blurb: you put up a good fight with those rattlers, but it wasn’t good enough—all it got you was strung up near a beach where the sun scorched you dry. abruptly, their set-up gets fucked by their own prisoners, saving your life by only a thread. but the wrath that lingered under your skin was immense, and you’re not the only one to experience that phenomenon. when another damaged soul encounters your brittle state; the dreams that put you in a tough position manifest into reality. along with a few extra miscellaneous things…

cw: healing!reader, healing!ellie, vulgar language, ellie being avoidant as hell, slow-burn romance, little jj, reader being really depressed at the beginning, little time jump, sexual content but not smut per se, pure sugary sweet ending (almost pissed ME off)

note: omg final chapter!! i didn’t really know how i wanted to end it, so i went through scenic route. i hope you guys enjoyed my little series, because i had fun writing it.

wyoming

For the first time in a long time, you were cozy—absolutely bored and comfortable, and what a delight that was! The settlement in Jackson was everything that you had hoped for. It was warm and welcoming. Not by everyone, but by enough to want this place to feel like home. When the moon replaced the sun and the stars trickled over the night sky, warm yellow lights flickered on. Draping over the center of the settlement, where the establishments flourished. Lighting up a path that was being adorned by the first snow of the year.

It’s been a while since you’ve seen snow in all its icy glory; you were nothing but a child then. Waking up from a troubled sleep, in a spacious home that you could call your own, you shuffled to a frosted window. With your arms wrapped around your body, looking to see minute flurries fluttering from the sky. Collecting in piles on the outer edge of your windowsill.

After a month of already being in Wyoming, at the settlement, reality had set in. You were no longer a soldier, or a slave, or a traveler. Finally, you have made it to the place that was nestled in your mind for endless days, weeks and months.

Relief. Solace. Everything you’ve ever wanted. Except for one thing.

The house was a two-story home, with beige striped wallpaper; mahogany wood accenting arches separating rooms, cabinets, bannisters and floor boards. Upon your arrival, it was already furnished. A long, soft maroon couch. Decorated with quilts and knitted blankets from neighbors. A square wool carpet laid flat under a mahogany coffee table. Lamps in various places, warmly illuminating the room.

A dark wood dining table. Iron cookware. Upstairs, a quiet bed frame with a decent mattress and comforter on top. A couple of pillows. Two dressers. A proportionate closet—this house looked like a home. Minus the adjustments and additions you were planning for. However, it didn’t quite feel like a home.

It was empty… Or you were empty.

Since your arrival, talking with Ellie became a challenge. You rarely saw her; it was like she handed you off to the officials of Jackson’s and dusted her hands from you. It was dramatic to ruminate over a woman who’s only obligation was to get you to Wyoming—to this community. That’s what you tried to tell yourself to stay in line, but it wasn’t working. Even after busying yourself with different jobs and tasks to start earning your keep, you still thought of her.

Hell, you caught glimpses of her. Jackson wasn’t that big. She’d be walking hand-in-hand with a small child, a toddler, talking intimately with a dark-haired woman. You saw them together often. It could only be assumed that they were important—her ex-girlfriend and son. Well, now, you were uncertain if that was her ex-girlfriend… But, again, you shouldn’t be ruminating. You got what you wanted, remember?

It was an early morning when Maria had asked to meet with you, at a coffee shop in the middle of the square. Dressed in an insulated coat with a hoodie underneath, a pair of trusted light-wash jeans and black leather boots; you began a trek from the corner of the settlement in a light layer of snow. The asphalt wasn’t cold enough to let it fester just yet, but the grass held onto the ice. Headphones rested over your ears, playing a tape gifted to you as a housewarming gift from your young neighbor.

Some old rock band from the 90s. Nirvana’s About A Girl played in your ears as your boots crunched the snow.

It took about four songs off the album for you to get to the coffee shop. Pulling the flimsy headphones down to rest around your neck, you entered the shop looking for a head of sleek blonde hair. An aroma of burning coffee beans and sugar infiltrated your nose. Small chatter was heard from people holding warm mugs, looking at old newspapers, reading novels.

From a table in the far corner of the shop, Maria stood to wave you over. A friendly smile spread across your lips, taut and plastered, as you approached the square wooden table. “G’Morning, Maria.” You reached your hand out to shake her hand, professionally.

She looked down at your hand, snickering. Impressed by your insistence on professionalism. After all, she basically was your employer. It was the one thing the fireflies taught you well—respect your superiors. “Good Mornin’,” Maria firmly shook your hand, taking her seat.

The heaters in the shop toasted up your exposed skin, causing you to remove your jacket before sitting down in the seat across from the older woman. Two cups warm mugs were put in front of you, almost on cue, by a young girl with a maroon apron. “Thank you, Melissa.” She smiled at the barista. “I wasn’t sure if you liked coffee, so I just ordered you a hot chocolate. Hope that’s all right.”

“Oh, it’s fine. No complaints here.”

“Good.” Maria curtly nodded her head, pulling a black binder from a bag hanging on the back of a chair. “You’ve been sleeping well in that house?” Dabbing her middle finger on her tongue, she sifted through the pages and hand-written documents.

You blink, wrapping your hands around the ceramic mug. “There’s good nights and bad nights…” Nodding, you attempt to take a sip of the hot beverage, but it was too scolding. “Not the fault of the house, just me.” The ends of your lips curl as a softener to your words. Being negative in the face of someone who granted you a place to stay felt like a crime.

Maria hummed, looking up at with genuine blue eyes. “Well, I hope there are more good nights than bad nights.”

“Yeah, of course!” You shrugged, answering entirely too quickly. Which certainly gave away the fact that you telling the truth. Her icy blues were intimidating, although you’ve seen much worse than a pair of eyes.

Falling asleep alone, in the dark was another challenge you had to face. After spending months on the road with someone, knowing they’re there… It was an eerie feeling being far from them—being along. Especially, those last few weeks leading up to knocking on the community’s door. Whenever you found a place to camp out for the night, her arms would be wrapped around you. Or your arms wrapped around her. Relishing in each other’s clothed or bare bodies; it had become a tragic comfort.

Your skin burned for her like it did on that fucking pillar. It tingled, ached and wanted for her touch. Her lips. Her eyes. Her hands.

The nightmare’s of your traumas persisted when you closed your eyes. You wanted to blame it on Ellie’s absence, but they rarely surrendered with her around. But at least when you woke up, boiling, sweating and heaving like you’d just run a marathon, a pair of arms were there to lull you back to sleep. Kissing the back of your neck to remind you that you weren’t there anymore—that you were safe.

And, when she had her moments, shooting up from your arms with tears rolling down her cheeks. You coaxed her back to sleep with her head on your chest, and affirming whispers.

You couldn’t help but wonder if those moments meant as much to her as they did to you.

She hummed at your response, pursing her lips. “If you’re having any problems let me know. I have some great remedies to help with sleep.” The blonde woman offers, a soft smile spreading on her lips. You nodded, chewing on the soft skin inside of your lip. “Now,” Maria begins. “I see that you’ve had some time to try out some of the positions we offer. Have any taken your interest?”

Flipping through a couple of pages, she continues. “I’ve heard great things from Ava Marin, she manages the patrols. Uhm, and Mrs Hayworth, from the gardens and greenhouse…”

“Mrs Hayworth is a very kind woman. I enjoyed working with her— she’s great at explaining things.” You compliment, thinking about the few days you spent with her planting vegetables and fruit. Her salt and pepper hair puffed in coils around her cherubic but wrinkled face. Crowd feet leading to a pair of squinty hazel eyes. Mrs Hayworth treated her plants like they were her children, and she enforced you to do the same.

“She is— wonderful woman.” Maria agreed.

Humming, you think about all the jobs your tried—which was a lot. Patrol was something that you were used to. Being out in the world wasn’t a grand change. However, you weren’t certain that you wanted to go beyond the walls so often. You’ve spent lots of time patrolling, surveying, killing infected—you wanted to hang that up. Every once in a while wouldn’t hurt, though. “If I were to sign up to help out with the gardens… Would that mean that patrolling would be off limits?”

The blonde woman shook her head, pursing her lips. “Not at all! For patrol, it’s in a sign-up basis. If you were to mainly do patrol, it would mean going out every other day. If you were to mainly work the gardens, that would be more of a consistent job— but you could still sign-up for patrols if you wanted.” Maria informed. “As long as you’ve been approved to go, and you have.”

“Hm…” You thought, weighing your options. The inner rage that you harbored had remained dormant since you arrived. It had been replaced with rumination and sadness for things out of your control. “Gardening full-time seems serene… I’ve spent enough time out there.” Nodding, with a subtle curl to the corners of your lips, you admitted.

Maria begins to scribble with a pen on a sheet of paper, connected to the rings in the binder. “Sounds fitting. But, of course, you can change your mind anytime.”

After you deal with business, Maria continues conversation with you. Casual, of course. You could tell she was trying to pry without being obvious—wanting to know more about you. Willingly, you gave in, because why not? It’s been a long time since you’ve had a real conversation with someone. Maria Miller seemed genuine enough.

However, when she brought up Ellie, the air stiffened. And you could tell she noticed it.

“You and Ellie… Have you spoken, lately? It’s been hard getting a hold of her— it’s like she’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time.” She chortles, taking a sip of her coffee. Pressing her lips together at the bitter taste.

Stunned by the mention of her, you shook your head. Fingers growing numb around the warm, untouched, hot chocolate. “Uhm, no I haven’t…”

She hummed, leaning her head to the start. “That’s odd.” Maria scoffs, bunching her eyebrows. “She made it seem like you two were very close— being that you traveled so far together…” It’s like she was thinking out loud, making you want to bolt from the wooden chair holding onto you. “I mean, she made sure that you got the best house in Jackson… I would assume that she would’ve at least visited—“

“Well, she hasn’t.” Sternly interrupting her, you inhaled, sharply.

Noticing the mistake, she sighed, looking at with blue eyes filled with pity. It irked you. Trying to fix it, Maria plastered a bittersweet smile on her lips. “She’s more like Tommy than I thought.” Bunching your eyebrows, she continued. “My husband— ex-husband— I don’t know… It’s complicated.”

You know the feeling… Kind of.

Ellie had told you about Tommy Miller. He was a very ambitious man, to say the least. Ambitious enough to send a grieving girl to kill someone in his absence—feeding off her own despair. You caught that much. But, if it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t have ever met her. What a selfish thought. “They’re both hermits in their own right, but they always come around.” She released a wistful sigh. “Ellie will come around… Just give her some time to get all her ducks in a row.”

With tight lips, you nodded. How much time? You desperately wanted to ask, but you didn’t. Instead, you stood up, pulling your jacket over your shoulders. “Thank you so much for the hot chocolate, Maria, but I have to go.” Speaking quickly, you slid your arms into your puffer jacket. Maria abruptly stood to her feet with an inquisitive expression.

“Oh, well, uhm,” She began, rubbing her hands together. “Of course. You’re schedule should be out in the next few days. Consider the meantime your sabbatical.” Her eyes drifted over your frame like a concerned mother. “It was a pleasure talking with you, y/n. I’m glad you could join us here.”

Sending another tight-lipped smile her way, you stuck your hands into your pockets. “I’m glad you let me. See you around.”

Leaving the coffee shop, the cold air was a smack in the face. Pulling you from shackles of solemnity—briefly. Raising your headphones back around your ears, you resumed the tape inside of the Walkman clipped to your hip.

Thin flurries of snow began to fall from the bright grey clouds. Trickling over the strands of your hair, melting in contact. Stuffing your hands back into your pockets, you walked down the icy path of the square.

The main square in Jackson was littered with people. Some were standing around conversing, with cigarettes in their hands. Some worked pulling supplies in large wooden carts, moving them to another establishment. You seen a man on a ladder fixing a broken light on the outside of a pub. And a woman walking a train of small children holding hands—like they were on a field trip of some kind. They laughed and giggled under knit beanies, bundled in their jackets that may have been too big for some.

A smile appeared on your lips as you watched them march by you.

You stopped at an art store, looking up at the wooden sign. Quoting Maria, you were on sabbatical; so, you wanted to use this time to fully explore the settlement. In the month that you’ve been in Jackson, you have visited the local pub more often than you’d like to admit. Entering the store, a bell sounded, and you smiled at the few people walking around the decorated shop.

Organic paints and brushes were located in the back corner of the store, taking up two walls and some floor space. While the rest of the store harbored artwork from the people who lived in the community. And some refurbished work found outside the wall. A sign on the wall read: talk to an attendant for group and private classes. You hummed, impressed by the normalcy. Perhaps, you could sign up for one.

Meandering around, your eyes survey the paintings and drawings. Thinking about your home, it could use some personalization. You came across a landscape portrait of two women. The strokes emulated grass—olive tones—that they were lying on—intertwined with each other. Arms and legs entangled. Lips grazing each others cheeks. The strokes that were made were intentionally blurry and messy. Who were these women? Was their relationship as unofficial and indifferent as your own?

Fingers grazing the canvas of the painting, you couldn’t help but think of that freckle-faced woman you’ve grown to adore.

“You interested in that one? Nice choice.”

Even though your headphones played Nirvana in your ears, you could still recognize the outsourced voice. Her voice was like honey. Soft, warm honey. Luring you like a spell spoken by a witch or warlock. God, you missed the sound of her voice. “Funny thing is… The woman who painted this actually has a husband.” She chuckled, glancing at you with a nervous glint.

You froze at the sound of her voice, eyes glued to the art before you. Just blinking. Buh bum. Buh hum. Your heart beat in your ears, in your chest, in your hands—everywhere! Skin growing hot as if you were sat in front of a furnace. Were you mad or just upset? It was hard to tell, even for yourself.

The smile on her lips faded, immediately. Fiddling with her fingers—she always did that. “How’re you settling in—?”

“I’ve already settled in…” Your voice was eerily calm, side-eying her as you spoke. “I haven’t seen you in five weeks, Ellie.”

She sighed, adjusting the knit cap over her hair. Licking her lips, nervously. “I know—“

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t.” When you finally look at her, she notices the irateness in your eyes. Crowding over the feelings of yearning and sorrow.

“Can we talk? Please, just let me explain.”

Gritting your jaw, you peer at her. Thinking about hashing it out within a small walk. But, you were tender, sensitive—you couldn’t be sure that your reaction wouldn’t be explosive. What if she told you she was getting back with Dina? Going back to her family. That alone could send you into ruins. And you too far from your house to escape the public once you unleashed hell upon that woman. “You know where I live.” You told, with a pinched expression.

That was your cue to leave the store, pulling your hoodie over your head. Maybe, today wasn’t the day to tour the community. Another day. Plus, you had to spend the rest of the day anticipating a knock at your door.

It was a glum walk back to your place. You had put your Walkman on pause, walking in a depressive silence. Each step you made up your porch was deliberate and slow. An old swing chair swung in the wind, bolts shaking once you put your weight on the porch. It wrapped around the entire front of the house, and it definitely needed more décor.

Entering your house, you hung up your jacket and kicked off your shoes at the door. Stalking up your staircase, leaning in the railing, you made your way to your bedroom. The un-made bed beckoned you; so you kicked the door closed, and jumped under your covers. Hopefully, getting some shut eye could ease your nerves.

The sleep was rocky—you were in and out. In the moments when you awoke, you pulled a book from your bedside table to read—George Eliot—hoping to fall back asleep. But the novel only intrigued you for hours. Distracting from that anticipation long enough for it to come sooner than you expected.

It was dark, but it was no later than six-thirty.

You approached the door with a heavy heart, sliding your fluffy socks across the wooden floor. The reveal of the woman on your porch caused your body to heat up once more. She turned around, still dressed in the clothes from earlier.

“Hey,”

“Hey…”

Pressing her lips into an awkward line. “Nice porch.”

Scrunching your eyebrows at the compliment, you abandoned the door while it was ajar. Telling her to enter without losing your dignity. Ellie stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. “Shoes off.” You tell her, waving a hand, carelessly.

Walking to the kitchen, you threw onto the stove a metal kettle filled water. While your innate anger was healing, there was still pridefulness about you. You had to have some sort of control over any situation that you’re in. Ellie came to your house; this conversation was on your terms. And it was going to stay that way.

Ellie had navigated around your living room, feeling the softness of the carpet under her feet. I did good. She thought. Ellie taking part in the decision making for your accommodations was true. She wanted to give you the absolute best, because she knew she was going to need some time alone.

Appearing from around the corner, you leaned against the mahogany frame lining the entrance to the living room. With your arms stubbornly crossed over your chest. “You have about seven to eight minutes before that kettle goes off, and when it does, this conversation is over.”

She slid the hat from her head, dragging it down to the place over her belly button. Kneading the fabric with her thumbs. “Do you not want me here?” Her voice cracked, hands smacking down at her sides. “Because we can talk another time—“

“Six minutes.”

Her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “You know, what?” Ellie scoffed, striding past you toward your kitchen. Irritation rushing through her nerves. It confused her how she could be so obsessed with someone who might’ve been more stubborn than herself.

You followed her into the kitchen. “What the hell are you doing?”

The woman reached for the kettle, taking it off the small flame. Flicking off the fire, she turned to look at you. “You’re not gonna give me six minutes to explain myself— I’m not gonna let you rush this.”

“I’m not rushing anything.”

Narrowing her eyes, she crossed her arms. Leaning her back against the counter, coolly. “Are you seriously insulting my intelligence, right now?” Ellie raised an eyebrow, mocking words that you’ve said in the past.

Squinting your eyes, glaringly, you scoff. “Just… Talk, Ellie.” You waved your hand, leaning on the threshold bordering the kitchen and the small foyer. Perhaps, you were pushing it a bit too far.

The auburn-haired woman sighed behind speaking. Placing her hands on the edge of the counter. “When I left… It was an immediate decision— made in the middle of the night in a farmhouse I shared with my girlfriend, now ex-girlfriend, and my kid.” She began, eyeing you intently. “I left my family behind, y/n, including Maria and Tommy and anyone else in this fucking community that I knew.” Her hands moved as she spoke, passionately. “In that moment, I don’t think I ever planned to come back. There was nothing to come back to…

Then, I met you. When I thought I traveled so far for nothing— I met you.” Her olive eyes looked to the ceiling, thinking. While your heart blundered under your ribs. “Coming back was never my intention, and I left that way. So, when I walked through those doors… I had a lot of work to do. A lot of bridges to mend and gain the trust of again— which I’m still doing, by the way.”

Her hand jutted out, before slapping against her thighs. “I didn’t mean to ghost you like that. Truthfully, I was overwhelmed.” The woman confessed, scratching the back of her head. “For the first two weeks, I was begging for Dina to let me see JJ, my son. For the next, I was arguing with Tommy for letting Abby go— it was a lot. And I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to put any of that on you.” Pursing your lips, you nodded. “You’ve been through enough… I was protecting you. I wanted you to just focus on settling in.”

“Well, it was hard settling in without you.” It almost came out like a whisper—a little louder than a whisper. Followed by a dry, stubborn chortle. “I spent months on the road with you, and it’s like you just hung me out to dry. That fucking sucked.” Averting your eyes, you peered at the shining floorboards.

She nodded, frowning at your downcast expression. But, there was an element of proudness. Give or take a few weeks back, you’d argue her down over anything. However, this time, vulnerability leaked from you. Poured from your words and demeanor like liquid gold. “I know, and I’m really sorry. It was fucked up. But it will never happen again— I swear to you.”

“What if something else comes up?” You question, chewing on the skin inside your lip.

“I’ll clue you in— every time.”

You hummed, raising an eyebrow. “What’s the status on you and Dina?”

Ellie rubs her nose with her index finger, ready to answer your rapid-fire questions. “Cordial co-parents.”

“Does she know about us?”

A goofy smile spreads across her plump lips. “We’re an us?”

Narrowing your eyes at her, fighting a little grin, you responded. “Answer the question, Ellie!”

“Oh, my God! Yes, she knows about us, and she’s happy for me.” With amused features, she begins to slowly approach you. “Now, are you done with the twenty questions game? Because you haven’t accepted my apology once…” She pouted, sliding her hands over your arms, pulling them from their crossed position.

Batting your eyes at her, feigning thought. The touch of her fingers on you sparked a fire, setting your skin ablaze. Even if it was in your best interest not to accept her apology, you probably still would. The way her eyes looked into you with such gentleness—it couldn’t be replicated by anyone else. “I accept your apology…” You admit, grazing your fingers up the sleeves of her flannel.

“Fuck, yes!” She wasted no time to embrace you, wrapping her arms around your neck. Tightly, you wrapped your arms around her back, leaning your head over her shoulder. “I missed you. I hope you’ll let me make it up to you?”

“You have no choice but to make it up to me.” You spoke against her exposed skin, pecking the side of her neck. “For the sake of lost time.”

Ellie giggled at the brush of your lips, pulling away with raised eyebrows. “Oh, shit. I almost forgot— be right back.” She runs to your front door pulling it open, and leaning to the side to grab a flipped canvas that was leaning against the outside brick wall. It was the portrait you were considering buying at the art store. “Housewarming present!” She grinned, presenting it in front of herself.

You matched her smile, reaching out to take it from her. “That woman is totally gay for making this.”

“So gay. I feel bad for her husband.”

Sharing a laugh, you look back at her, setting the canvas to the side against the wall. Walking up to her, you grabbed her face, caressing the skin of her cheeks. Musing at her earthy features, taking them all in like you’d never see her again. The last time you saw her, it’s like you took it for granted—not knowing if it was going to be a while before you got to look at her the way you wanted to. Leaning into her, you pressed your lips against hers, unabashedly. Her hands found comfort at the divot of your waist, pulling you flush against her.

Sliding your hands down to the nape of her neck, the kiss deepened. You whined into her mouth when she slipped her tongue between your lips. With the combination of her grip on your waist and the taste of her lips, you wanted to merge your bodies—so she could never leave your side again. You’ve survived enough tragic loss; was it so bad to want this one thing? The touch of your troubled lover.

Ellie backed you against the wall, muttering against your lips. “I wanna take my time with you…” She began to trail hot kisses over your cheek, down your jaw, to the sensitive parts of your neck. “Show you…” Smack. “Just how much…” Smack. “I love you.”

Under the waistband of your jeans, you throbbed, but the thing beating inside your chest swelled and beat louder. “Y— You love me?” The tips of your fingers scratched at her scalp, comfortingly. As she pulled her face from your neck, her freckled cheeks flushed.

“Yeah, I do.” Her thumb came up to caress your jaw. “I really do.”

That was your cue to completely devour her. You pulled her upstairs, into your bedroom, to ravish her—to ravish each other. Stripping from your clothes to come unto one another with a sickening love. Her lips traced every part of your body; suckling, nibbling, tonguing down the most sensitive parts. Pulling moans from your diaphragm, seamlessly. She cooed for you and spoke filthily in your ear while touching you with a gentle firmness that only she could replicate over and over—making you come undone hard. As if the universe came from within you.

Stars, planets, galaxies—celestial bodies!

You and Ellie were two halves of one whole. Everything that led up to that beach happened with the purpose of bringing the scorned together. To cancel it out, blossoming something much greater. Somehow, you proved to each other that you were both worth saving. No matter the sin. No matter the guilt. It was all worth it to end up wrapped in her arms, skin to skin, caressing her battered epidermis.

As months progressed, gearing up for the spring season, Ellie had long moved her stuff in. Her easel and unfinished works nestled in the guest room. Her clothes were stuffed beside yours in the drawer before your bed, and the closet beside your door. Bringing in sunrises with sleepy, feathered kisses and innocent touches. It was a dream you both got the chance to live out.

This wasn’t enduring or surviving—it was living. Experiencing life.

With your hands covered in dirt, replanting a radish, joyful voices were behind your back. Looking over your shoulder, a tiny frame was trotting toward you, calling your name. Ellie in his trail, with her hands in her pockets.

Gasping, you turned around with a grin. “Hey, buddy!” You opened your arms for him to promptly land in them. Keeping your hands far from his jacket so the soil wouldn’t dirty him up.

“Careful, JJ, she’s working!” She tried, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Oh, Ellie, it’s fine.” You waved a dirty hand, sliding them off your fingers, dropping them onto the grass. So you could reach under his arms to hoist him onto your hip. The sun landed just right on his little head, sparkling off his small growing teeth.

Ellie’s lips curled at the sight. “He wanted to come visit you at work before I dropped him off.” She meandered toward you, pecking your lips.

“Just JJ? Or you, too?”

“Both of us, whatever.” Playfully, she rolled her eyes. “Plus, I had to remind you of our dinner date tonight— its mandatory. You can’t be late.” Her fingers pushed fallen pieces of your hair from your forehead.

Once you had gotten into the grove of gardening, time flew by. It would go from seven in the morning to eight in the afternoon like it was nothing. Causing you to miss out on some of the plans you made with your generous lover. “You’ve been reminding me since I got up this morning. Trust me, I remember, Ellie.” You squeezed his chubby cheek, cooing at him. “Ugh, I love him.” You gushed, peering between him and your girlfriend.

“Oh!” You pulled a folded-up paper from your back pocket. “JJ, you wanna do me a big favor?”

His eyebrows lifted, grinning.

“Give your mama back this recipe for me, all right?” He takes the paper in his hands, preparing to unfold it. “Promise me you’ll give it to her…”

“I promise!”

“Okay, bud. Tuck it tight into your pocket until you get there.”

Instead of unfolding, he pushed it into the pocket of his coat, messily. Patting it, to let you know it was inside. Kissing him on his cheek, you put him back on the ground. Eyes glancing at the watch on your wrist. “Well, I gotta get back to work.” Your hand found hers by her side, leaning your body toward her arm. “Thanks for visiting me, babe. Letting me see that beautiful face of yours.”

Ellie blushed, averting her glazing eyes. You leaned your head closer to hers, warmly kissing her cheek. “My pleasure…”

“I’m sure.” You teased, inconspicuously biting her ear. Quick enough that it went unseen to the surrounding people, and JJ as he played with the leaves sticking out of the garden. Ellie released an airy sigh, narrowing her eyes at you. She whined your name as if she were embarrassed. “Don’t be like that— you know I love you.”

“I love you more… But you have to chill. Mrs Hayworth is right there.”

“You don’t know Mrs Hayworth like I do.” You snicker, waving a hand to the older woman a few bins away. The salt and pepper haired woman waved, sending a teasing wink. Ellie looked back at your with confused, and slightly horrified, features. “I’ll tell you about it later. At the dinner I’m not going to be late to.”

“And you better not.” Ellie poked you, with pouty lips.

“Ellie, I won’t.”

“Okay, I believe you.” She kissed you one more time. A little longer. A little deeper. “I won’t keep you from the vegetables anymore. JJ, say buh-byes.” He jumps from a squat, waving his hand with a smile. “I’ll see you later. C’mon, kid.” Ellie hoisted him up into her hip and began walking back the way she came to deliver him to Dina’s. Leaving you with metaphorical heart eyes, pulling your gloves back onto your hands.

And, when later came; over a hearty chicken dinner prepared by Ellie Williams herself, a shiny silver band was presented to you in the pages of a book. Laying over an underlined and highlighted excerpt of the book—something you highlighted. It was a novel you had finished sometime between the end of December and early January.

“‘What greater thing is there for two human souls, than to feel that they are joined for life–to strengthen each other in all labour, to rest on each other in all sorrow, to minister to each other in all pain, to be one with each other in silent unspeakable memories at the moment of the last parting?’” Ellie had recited, evenly. With not a speckle of wavering, or awkwardness, or pause—unless it was intentional. “Adam Bede. Your favorite book… I hope it’s your favorite book.”

Jumping from your chair across from her, you leaped into her arms after placing the book into the dinner table. Pecking your lips across her face. “Yes! Yes! Ellie, a million fucking times, yes!”

“I didn’t even ask the question.” She laughed in your ear, looking up at you with dilated pupils.

Pulling back, you narrowed your tearing eyes at her. “You don’t have to. I already said yes.”

“But isn’t that the exciting part… Popping the question?”

You scrunched your eyebrows. “I thought the exciting part was me saying yes to marrying you…?”

Ellie spent days studying George Eliot, hours setting up the dinner, and minutes shaking with anxiety. Working herself up to saying those magic four words, only for your to swipe the chance right from under her. And, honestly, she loved you more for it. “All right, can I at least put the damn ring on your finger?”

“‘Course, you can, Els.” You pull the book toward you, opening it up on the page with the ring. Ellie takes it from your fingers, glancing at you with opalescent olive eyes. She slid it onto your ring finger, delicately twisting the band around. You grinned, hopelessly, with your bottom lip between your teeth.

Her hand trailed up your arm, squeezing. “My lucky charm…” She muttered, thoughtfully.

“I’m all yours.” You lean close to her lips, glancing at them. “And you’re all mine.”

Neither of you were able to finish the dinner while it was hot.

[astralnymphh]

ROBINS EGG BLUE

⤹ . moments with domestic!ellie x pregnant!reader

WC; 1.07k

⤹ . content; fluff, lovey–dovey, may cause baby fever or heartwarmed tears to swell, reader discretion is advised ౨ৎ

pregnancy is infuriating as not being able to comb your hair thoroughly. there is always a fat fucking knot to stem the fluid moment thereof– just as there lies a fat, fleshy boulder fastened to your stomach for a gruelingly long nine months. the bulge of your belly button has witnessed most of three seasons, and you weren't buoyantly idling around for the fourth to appear. this baby– this little devil, needs to get the hell out of dodge.

from the chagrin of a pair of jeans failing to button at the hips, straining the seams as you pull that fly parallel to your mother yanking the poor hairs from your scalp with a paddle brush– to the fleeting aggro nearby popping a blood vessel you feel when arguing with your wife, ellie, about some nonsensical, fruitless or futile dispute about what wallpaper pattern best suits the small dimensions of the nursey– pink and pearl striped with roses or robins egg blue and beige striped with roses, ellie continuously states "they're basically the same baby, i don't see what all the fuss is about." or whether ellie should throw in a batch of dino nuggets or regular nuggets cause the taste totally isn't the same, the shape definitely impacts how salty it is to your tongue, illogical banters.

but ellie will still be your loving, selfless, fond, and doting wife. your number one. apple of your eye. stupid auburn–haired heartthrob. you name it. through thick and thin of your expanding belly, she will always be the first palm to greet your baby in the morning, plastering her blanket–hot hand just beneath your navel and pressing her sweat damp fingerprints dimpling into your stomach, bending her index lightly into the petunia purple stretchmarks that vertically dip into your hips, waiting for minutes in the virgin sun morning for your baby to kick. literally, she has abandoned her old forenoon routine just to feel that first thump on her hand. and when it finally does happen, a little pounce vibrating beneath her palm lines– her fingers twitch lightly and a smile immediately crafts upon her rose lips, purring excitedly upon the fringe of your ear, words that only your snoozing brain with hark, "huh, see? he knows who his mama is– told ya."

but, ahh, stretchmarks.

she adores those little lightning marks lacing your belly– you on the other hand, thought the contrary, to which that husky fry would remind you, "ts' cause y'gotta baby growing in there, yeah? ours." flowing past the pouty berry lips so adamant on plowing kisses to the span of your scruff, ghosting them dry over the fine threadlike hairs with a pitched promise to never let you– or your belly go.

or, goddess, that one time ellie insisted you sit on the couch while she played her acoustic guitar, denting her fingertips with the strings as she plucks, subtly leaning the bay oak instrument closer to your belly so the baby would pick up those hollowed notes vibrating through the air. the fattest smirk would mushroom those cheeks to hug her nose– grooving those nasal lines to encase the thin curve of a smile, deepening at the corners. you even recall the dorkiest shit ever, how it carried to your ears out of the blue and left you pinching brow lines of amusement, "gonna' play this lil' guy guitar everyday– hey, d'ya think if i do that, he'll come out already knowing how to play?" spoken on a smokey chord, glancing up at you through lashes slightly downturned due to her facing the belly, directly. you told her with a sigh, "ellie, that is not how it works." dumbly smirking back, and she replied, "what? c'mon, maybe if i play electric, he'll be born a rockstar!" squeezing her voice with silly enthusiasm. a roll of your head cracks your neck, dangling back to barb, "you are ten times the idiot than you were yesterday." cause, well, she's constantly spewing the dopiest ideas. next thing you knew, she was rasping, "m'your fuckin' idiot." that cheesy motherfucker, slinking her guitar off the round of her thigh and stowing it at the sofa's footing, lurking forward on all fours to tackle your belly with bespattering kisses, moist and fiendish as ever.

infuriating was the task of putting socks on. fucking socks. the effortless effort that would usually clock you under ten seconds, moreso felt like ten eons. "ughh!" you would grunt from the depths of your compact lungs, extending two zombie arms over the blockage of your portly belly, perking the ears of ellie who was just in the abutting room, walls thin enough to bombard with sound. she whips around the door trim, leaning her lank weight away from it and cocking her head, distinguishing the predicament you had landed two feet in. a dry chuckle sounds from yonder the room, trailed by her honeyed resound, "need sum' help babe?" which, to her, falls to strike as a question– au contraire, soft, padded footsteps of feet who already had socks on, lucky them, carries ellie over and at your side, crouching with her knees splayed apart like bird's wings, raising hands to politely creep fingers under yours, prying the cottony ball from your grasp and craning it to her chest, sidling in her squat so that she would be an eyeshot vis–à–vis to you, at your beckon practically.

you remained silent, doused in the soft moment before you, yet a little embarrassed you couldn't do it yourself. a raspy, "here's one.." croaks from her throat prior to a hand cupping the ribbed underside of your ankle, tamping it gently into her chest so she could unfurl the sock and roll it up your foot, hedging your toes first with the linty fabric and laying it up the heel, letting the band snap in place– and her fingertips lingered at the ankle, caressing the nub for only a twinkle in time. "and the second one.." she scoops up the other foot, repeating the same tedious tenderness she gave to your other, gliding her hand from your ankle to your knee as she stood up, plating a pressure to the top of your thigh as she leans in, lips first, uttering, "there you go," smacking a puckered kiss to your stagnant lips, whispering upon them, "m'comin' to the bathroom with you. wanna hold him for a bit."

not even wild wolves could tear ellie from your baby, her baby.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Daddy Dearest

Title: Daddy Dearest

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Prompts: Lloyd Hansen + Female Reader + Daddy kink + “Can you feel how much I want you?” + Darkfic, requested by @hansensgirl

Summary: Your latest client takes everything from you.

Warnings: Creep!Lloyd, Daddy kink, Dark!Daddy!Lloyd, pet name (Princess), darkfic, sex work, forced ageplay, Lloyd has a corruption kink, dead dove: do not eat, dacryphilia, violence against Reader (choking, threatening, Lloyd tackles Reader) 

A/N: Hi, Sab!!! Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Sweet Treats Event 2024 Masterlist

My Masterlist

The dossier for your latest client reads like a warning label. It is full of kinks and fetishes you are familiar with but have never experienced yourself. And then there were a few that you had to do a little research on. 

There isn’t much to read about his personal life. You notice that he is single due to his line of work, which is only listed as ‘Contractor’. You decide to keep the conversation only about pleasing your client.

The car service drops you off at a gorgeous modern mansion in the hills. In the back of a gated community, it shines with floor-to-ceiling windows and marble stone walls. The fountain in the middle of the circular driveway spouts glistening water that shoots a bit higher out of the fish sculpture atop it to signal the top of the hour.

To say you feel out of place is an understatement. While you are used to meeting high-profile clients, you would rarely meet them at their homes. They tend to opt for penthouse suites in expensive hotels or apartments that their wives or girlfriends don’t know about. 

Your heels click and clack across the stone-paved driveway as you walk to the front door. You fix the short black dress that you picked to wear today. It wasn’t your usual style, a bit showy in places you would have seen on slinky lingerie, but you wore it so the client could get a better look at your assets. Noticing the doorbell camera to the right of the entrance, you press it and wait. 

You weren’t expecting to hear a woman’s voice.

“Mr. Hansen will be with you shortly. Please, do come in and make yourself comfortable in the lounge to the left,” she says in an eerily chipper voice.

Before you can respond, you hear the metallic click of the door unlocking. Swallowing your uncertainty, you turn the ornate handle and open the door. You peek around the door and then step through it, closing it behind you. Spotting the lounge area, you walk over and sit on the pristine white leather couch.

While looking around the room, you notice there are no photos or other personal touches that make a house into a home. You still haven’t seen what the guy looks like; he could be hideous. But he could also be just a normal dude. As if thinking about him could get his attention, you hear a cheerful whistling accompanied by quick footsteps skipping down the stairs.

Once he makes it to the entryway of the lounge, he leans against the door jamb and crosses his arm, studying you for a moment. You refuse to be the only one being scrutinized, so you cross your arms and tilt your head while staring at him.

Handsome face, even under that trashstache. Gorgeous blue eyes and soft pink lips. His yellow and beige striped polo fits him nicely, showing off his big biceps. His fitted khakis stretch across his thick thighs. You attempt to hide your excitement as you peek at the bulge in his pants, but he catches it and chuckles.

“Alright, Princess. As much as I love that dress you’re wearing, I’ve got something that is much, much cuter waiting upstairs for you.” He winks at you, stepping toward you and holding out his hand once he is towering over you.

You tentatively put your hand in his, and he helps you up off of the couch. “Thank you, Mr. Hansen.”

He tsks at your words. “Now, Princess, while I love how polite you’re being, you’re getting the name wrong,” he starts, smiling at your confused expression. “When you’re here with me, you are Princess, and I am Daddy. Go ahead, try it out.”

His thumb soothes the skin on the back of your hand while his eyes stay on your face, waiting for a response. His smile threatens to fade as the grip on your hand grows tighter.

“Daddy,” you murmur, your voice barely loud enough for him to hear.

His other hand comes to cradle your face, then boops your nose. “Good girl, Princess. Don’t worry, I’ll get you to say it louder in due time,” he promises. “Now, come on. Let’s go and get you changed into something a bit more comfortable, okay?”

You nod, and he puts a hand around the shell of his ear. You realize that he wants you to answer him. “Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s my good girl. Let’s not forget that again. Daddy might not be as patient with you next time, Princess.” He boops your chin this time and turns, pulling you behind him as he exits the room and ascends the large staircase in the foyer to the second floor. You keep up with his quick steps somehow, ending up being tugged down a long hallway to a set of double doors. He lets your hand fall from him so he can be as dramatic as he needs to be.

Turning the knobs and pushing the doors open, he steps aside and lets you assess everything. A plush pastel pink carpet greets you as you move inside the room; its fluffiness compels you to remove your heels and feel it between your toes. Everywhere you looked, from the bedding on the four-poster canopy bed to the knickknacks on countless shelves to the stuffed animals piled high in one corner, various shades of pink and white assault your vision. 

Posters on the wall range from inspirational quotes to teddy bears dressed as ballerinas to anime girls with varying stages of undress. The pink and white marble wardrobe draws your attention, and you open it to reveal more outfits than you could wear in a lifetime. The clothing, all in pastel shades, is of great quality and, surprisingly, all in your size. You close the wardrobe and step back into the center of the room.

“You don’t like it,” he surmises, closing the doors of the room as he steps inside fully.

“I’m just confused. I don’t feel comfortable in here, Mr. Hansen,” you plead, facing away from him so you don’t see when his face changes.

“You’re about to feel a lot less comfortable, Princess,” he cautions.

You jump at the sound of the lock clicking into place in the room. Whipping around, you watch helplessly as he lunges at you. His hands wrap around your neck as he tackles you to the pink carpeting. You try in vain to peel his hands away, and as you struggle, he somehow manages to get his hips between your legs. He growls when he feels the heat from your barely covered pussy. He uses his grip around your neck as an anchor so he can grind into you.

“Can you feel how much I want you?” He loosens his hold on your neck when your eyes threaten to roll back in your head. He pushes your face into the carpet when you start to sputter and cough. 

After getting your breathing under control, you lay stock-still under him, afraid to make a move that may anger him and cause you more pain. As much as you want to push him off of you, he’s already proven what he’s capable of.

“You behave, and so will I, Princess,” he huffs, slowly rising to stand over you. “Now, you put on this cute little outfit and let Daddy take care of you.” 

You follow his line of sight to clothes laid out on the bed, pulling yourself up and fixing your dress. Once you are close enough, you take in the features of the clothing he picked out-a pink denim overall dress with a stitched bouquet on the large front pocket. To wear underneath the dress is a plain white T-shirt and white briefs decorated with flowers. White knee-high socks and pink jelly sandals complete the outfit.

If you weren’t so in shock, you would scream or try to fight him. But you are past the realm of where this wasn’t going to happen. Instead, you undress as he watches. Putting on the shirt, underwear, and socks was easy enough. However, he offers to help you with the dress and gropes you here and there. He sits you down on the bed and puts your shoes on for you in an act so sweet, you almost forget where you are and what you are doing.

After looking you over, he stands to his full height in front of you and cradles your face in his hands. “I am going to ruin you. Inside and out, Princess. You have no idea,” he chuckles, using his thumb to wipe away the tear that falls from your right eye. “And please, let those tears out. They only get me more excited.” The sniffle that escapes you had him biting his lip as if to prove his point.

The remaining shred of hope you had held onto floats away in the wind as you watch him unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. By the time he is lying next to you and catching his breath, your grip on reality has been fucked out of you. You curl into his side and smile at him, “Thank you, Daddy.”

A/N: Possibly the darkest Lloyd I have ever written. This Lloyd is a creep, but damnit…I love him.

[animationnut]

Holiday Sweater Exchange

My PnF Secret Santa gift for @danvillecheese

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!! Hope you enjoy your gift!

...

When Isabella stepped out of her house, it was to be greeted by her favourite kind of snow—thick, puffy snowflakes that drifted lazily to the frozen ground. She paused for a moment to admire it, holding out her mitten-covered hand to catch one. The snowflake was about the size of a nickel, the crystals glinting in the thin rays of sun that peeked from amongst the grey clouds.

There was a slight nip in the air, sharp enough that she had to tug up her purple scarf so it would cover her face. It was only a short walk across the street, but she hated when her cheeks were numb with cold.

She looked both ways before she crossed the freshly-salted street. The driveway to the Flynn-Fletcher residence was just as pristine, not a chip of ice or clump of snow to be seen. She ducked through the backyard gate and followed the path to the sliding glass door, which she wrenched open with one hand.

“Happy holidays!” she chirped, kicking the slush from her boots before stepping onto the Santa Claus mat.

“Happy holidays!” Phineas returned with enthusiasm. He grabbed a mug of hot chocolate from the tray sitting on the coffee table, and once Isabella was free of her winter gear, passed it to her. “We’ve got the works, so jazz it up however you want.”

The coffee table had been turned into a hot chocolate bar, with glass canisters of sprinkles, gingerbread, candy canes, and chocolate shavings lined up beside cans of whipped cream. Isabella added a squirt of whipped cream to her hot chocolate and a healthy dose of red and green sprinkles.

Baljeet and Buford arrived a few minutes later. Buford took enough time to kick off his boots before beelining for the hot chocolate, wrapping his fingers around the warm ceramic mug. “Oh yeah, that’s the stuff,” he said with a sigh, dropping with a heavy plop beside Isabella on the couch.

“I told you fingerless gloves were completely impractical,” Baljeet chided, taking more care in shedding his winter coat and accessories. “But no, you had to wear them, because they are ‘cool’.”

“Shut up,” Buford growled. He added a tower of whipped cream to his drink, and when he tilted his head back to spray some directly into his mouth, Ferb snatched the canister from his hands.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Once his friends were settled with their drinks, Phineas clapped his hands together, his eyes glinting with excitement. “Okay! Who wants to kick off the homemade holiday sweater exchange?”

“I do!” said Isabella brightly. She thrust out a shiny, red-wrapped package. “Merry Christmas, Buford.”

Buford set his candy-cane striped mug down and took the gift, eyeing it warily. “If this has something adorable on it—”

“Open it and find out.”

“Because I swear, Princess, I explicitly said nothing cute or fluffy or—”

“Buford, just open it!”

Grumbling under his breath, Buford ripped off the paper, revealing a beige wool sweater. He unfurled it and, when his eyes caught sight of the design, he let out a disbelieving snort. “This is so stupid.”

Buford flipped the sweater so everyone could see the front, which displayed three fuzzy white kittens wearing reindeer antlers. Each kitten was wearing a black sweater featuring a skull wearing a Santa Claus hat.

“Those are certainly two things I did not expect to see together,” remarked Baljeet.

“It’s clever,” said Phineas with a laugh. “It suits Buford. Appears hard on the outside, but super soft on the inside.”

Buford narrowed his eyes. “If Ferb wasn’t sittin’ right there, I’d smack ya for that.”

“I know. That’s why I said it.”

Shaking his head, Buford refolded his sweater, sending Isabella a raised brow. “You think you’re clever, huh?”

“Pretty clever,” Isabella said with a nod. Her lips turned downwards slightly. “You don’t completely hate it, right?”

Features softening, Buford reached out to ruffle Isabella’s hair, causing her to squeak. “I’d hate it if you didn’t try to mess with me somehow.” He picked up a rumpled, blue snowman-wrapped gift. “Ferb, you better like this.”

Smirking, Ferb took his gift and peeled off the paper. He held out a dark green sweater, which was covered with Christmas-themed patches; festive Stumpleberry Finkbat characters from the harshly-panned Christmas special, red candles in brass holders, vintage Santa Clauses, nutcrackers, and mice wearing tiny mittens.

“I didn’t knit the sweater, but I sewed on the patches. That counts, right?”

“Sure does,” confirmed Phineas. “It looks awesome, Buford.”

Ferb nodded in agreement, lightly running his fingers over the patches. He sent Buford a curious look.

“Your parents helped me out,” Buford said. “Turns out they had a whole bin of old patches at their store. They tracked down the Stumpleberry Finkbat ones for me, too.”

“Thank you,” said Ferb with a soft smile.

“You’re welcome,” mumbled Buford.

Ferb twisted slightly, so he was facing the armchair. He smiled as he handed Phineas a teal-wrapped present. Phineas laughed. “This doesn’t count as my Christmas present, right?” he joked.

“You’ll see,” Ferb said simply.

Phineas eagerly ripped away the paper, revealing a knitted sweater that was the same colour as the wrapping paper. He gave a delighted whoop, excitedly displaying the sweater for his friends to see. Perry’s silhouette, including reindeer antlers, was stitched on the front with white thread. Above, in delicate cursive stitch, read ‘We Wish You a Perry Christmas’.

“Okay, that’s perfection,” declared Isabella.

“I kinda want it,” spoke Buford. “Wanna trade?”

“Not at all.” Phineas happily wrangled the sweater over his head. “This is mine forever.”

“I’m taking a picture of you and Perry later,” said Isabella.

“That would be awesome! Good idea, Is.” Phineas picked up a lumpy package wrapped in sparkling blue paper. “Merry Christmas, Baljeet!”

“Thank you.” Baljeet took his gift and carefully pulled apart the paper. His eyes went wide at the red dashes and dots pressed to a green sweater. “Does this…does this say Merry Christmas in morse code?”

“It sure does!”

Baljeet hugged the sweater to his chest. “This is the best sweater ever.”

“The best nerd sweater, maybe,” said Buford with a scoff. “Jeet, not a single person is gonna know what those dots and dashes mean.”

“Someone will,” Baljeet countered. “And when someone comments on it, I will know they are my kind of people. Thank you, Phineas.”

“You’re welcome! I’m so glad you like it.”

Baljeet nervously picked up a small, pink bag with pastel purple trees printed on the plastic. “Okay, this is really bad,” he said weakly. “Very terrible. I am not adept at arts and crafts, so I am very sorry if this disappoints you.”

“It’s not going to disappoint me, Baljeet,” said Isabella gently, leaning over Buford to rest her hand against Baljeet’s knee. “You put your heart into it, and that’s what matters the most.”

“If you say so,” said Baljeet dubiously.

Isabella removed the white tissue paper and pulled out a scrap of blue fabric about the size of a tea towel. A menorah had been stitched with thin gold thread, and ‘Spoiled For 8 Days’ was spelled out in clumsy stitching.

“Is…is this a sweater for Pinky?” Isabella asked slowly.

“Yes,” Baljeet said anxiously. “I could not do a human sweater, so I thought—”

He recoiled as Isabella let out a shriek of delight. She sprang to her feet and dashed to the door, sparing enough time to shove on her boots. She vanished into the snowy afternoon, leaving her friends to gape after her.

“Does she like it?” asked Baljeet frantically. “That was a sound of joy, yes?”

“Pretty sure she just ran off to get Pinky, so yes, I think she likes it,” said Phineas in amusement.

Phineas was correct, for three minutes later Isabella returned, holding Pinky aloft with a beaming grin. “Look at him!” she cooed. “It fits perfectly!”

The sweater did not seem to do much to calm Pinky’s shaking, but the dog did not seem to mind his new item of clothing. Isabella hugged him against her chest as she took off her boots, once more settling down on the couch.

She plopped Pinky into Buford’s lap before embracing Baljeet tightly. “I love it so much, Baljeet. Thank you.”

“You are welcome,” said Baljeet with relief.

As the others changed into their new sweaters, Phineas set up the television for their annual Elf viewing. Ferb came down with Perry, and neither boys noticed the way his eyes softened with affection when he spotted Phineas’ sweater.

The group of friends clustered together on the couch, elbows digging into sides and legs splaying over laps, but no one minded. Pinky stayed in Buford’s lap, sneaking licks of his whipped cream when he wasn’t looking. Isabella tucked her chin against Phineas’ shoulder, her feet resting in Ferb’s lap. Baljeet was sandwiched between Ferb and Buford, the former’s arm stretched leisurely over his shoulders. Buford pressed his socked feet beneath Baljeet’s thighs, carefully balancing Pinky in his lap.

Bathed in the multicoloured glow of the Christmas tree, the warmth that filled them had nothing to do with their newly acquired sweaters.

[starysky1289]

Rookie!Vanessa X Guitarist!Reader. Steady

“ where’s our next gig at Mathew? “

“ why, so you can tell your new cop girlfriend to come watch? “

You groaned, ever sense the previous concert, Mathew and your fellow band mates may as well off been living in your business about you and Vanessa. You two didn’t really talk after the concert, besides the texting and the…lovely photos she sent you. You’d still find yourself going back and looking at them every now and then.

You all were setting up to start practice, when the patrol car rolled up to your garage. Everyone Audibly groaned, as Mathew walked down to the car, Derek got out, Vanessa at his side.

“ we haven’t even played, and fucking karen already called you? What’s wrong now?? “

“ I’m sorry matt, but yall can’t practice here anymore. The only person who has any right to practice in the house is Y/N. I’m sorry guys, to many reports “

“ this is bullshit! “

Mathew stormed back into your garage, angrily packing his stuff. You sighed, putting your bass down as you walked down to the officers.

“ officers, are you sure we can’t like, appeal this? We don’t have anywhere else to practice, we don’t get paid enough to rent out a space. “

“ I’m sorry y/n. You can try and appeal, but that’d cost more than a practice space. I’d suggest looking around for people who’d let you practice in open apartments or something, not much else I can- “

“ Fuck you Derek! And fuck you ‘ Officer Vanessa ‘, fucking rookie Bitch. “

Mathew shouted at the officers as he stormed into his car, immediately driving off. You stood alone, your other bandmates packing up, talking amongst themselves, glaring at you. Like it was your fault just because you had conversations with Vanessa.

“ I’m..I’m so sorry y/n…I can help you look if you want- “

“ save it. I don’t need your excuses…”

You groaned, turning back and heading into your garage, packing up the bass and heading inside. You threw the case on your couch, making sure it didn’t fall off, before laying on your bed, screaming into your pillow. Stupid neighbor, stupid cops. You couldn’t stand them anymore.

*~*

It was late, you were still up, starring at the ceiling. You had to eat something, you hadn’t eaten all day. You got up, heading to the kitchen, as your phone buzzed. You picked it up, looking down at the text message.

Vanessa.

“ Hey, can we talk? Maybe I can come over or we can call? “

You sighed, you weren’t mad at her. You’re here just upset at everything else. You shot her back a quick text before going to make something to eat.

“ You can come over. I suppose we should talk. “

*~*

Vanessa had came, like she said she would. She wore a simply beige sweater and some black pants, her blonde hair still in its ponytail. You let her in, leading her to the living room, letting her sit on the open spot on the couch. Your guitar case was still on it, so you pulled it off and laid it on your lap, opening it and singing. Its yellow metal was cold on your fingers, as you ran your hand over the black stripes on its edge.

“ Mathew didn’t mean what he said to you. You can understand why we’re upset. We don’t have anywhere else to practice, and our next few shows won’t get us enough money to pay for a studio to practice in. “

“ I know he’s upset, and you are too. What about a family member..? Maybe they could- “

“ I have no more family. None that’ll support me. My parents are mad I dropped out of college and joined this band cause I didn’t wanna be a lawyer. I guess it’s kinda stupid on my end, but I, I couldn’t do it. “

Vanessa was gentle with you, hiding your hand on the bass, studying it with you. She didn’t want to be the first to speak, she knew you had a lot on your mind.

“ in all honesty, Mathew is a douchebag. I originally wanted to be a singer, I could be double trouble, bass and vocals? I’d sell out clubs, but he was persistent about him singing cause he was the ‘ leader ‘. So we all just keep quiet, even if he didn’t sing to well “

“ oh, thank god I’m not the only one who thought he sucked the other day. You thought, you played wonderfully, the solo you had was amazing. I bet your voice is just as good as your bass skills too. “

You chuckled, closing the case and putting it to the side. You looked around the room, before back at Vanessa, sighing.

“ about the other night. I’m sorry I’ve ghosted you…I-i never ment too. I was so flustered from your photos, and then my mate’s have found out I talked to you and are all up my ass about it….i just..I’m not good at being a communicator…”

“ y/n…im not mad at you. I knew you practiced today, I figured what’s her name Karen would call and file a complaint, and we’d come up. I didn’t know about the situation until Derek said it to Mathew. I was gonna talk to you then, if things didn’t get out of hand. Did I, go to far with the nudes-? “

You quickly shook your head, slightly squeezing her hand before smiling softly.

“ n-no you didn’t! I..I enjoyed them..quite a w-welcome surprise. “

She scooted closer to you, holding both your hands now, blushing as she struggled to get her words out.

“ do you wanna…see it in person~? “

Your heart skipped a beat, as quickly burried your face in your hands, akwardly chuckling. The last thing you expected was her offering something like that.

“ think of it as a apology…we could…if you want, do more- “

“ n-no! No I’m just..I-I’m not ready for that..I should take you out a few t-times before I deserve that..”

“ alright then. Do you..wanna see them then..? “

You poked your head out from your hands, and nodded silently. Vanessa chuckled, taking your hands and putting them on her lap. She slowly lifted her sweater and bra, almost teasingly pulling it up enough for her tits to pop out. You blushed again, but stayed frozen. She looked just as gorgeous as she did in the pictures, her skin practically glowing in the dimly lit house.

“ you wanna touch me y/n..?. “

“ y-yes…yes please…”

Vanessa took your hands and placed them on her chest, letting you gently squeeze them. Her skin was just as soft as you imagined, as you gently massaged them she’d let out little moans, that’d only make you blush darker.

“ y-your so..pretty…I-i…I’m s-sorry I-I was mean to y-you earlier, I-i..”.

“ shh…it’s alright honey…cmere���”

You gently let go of here, and she pulled you into a hug. You held onto her tightly, putting your head in the crook of her neck. You pulled down her sweater to try and warm her.

She pulled back, holding your face in her hands, and kissed you gently. You felt like you were going to explode from it, your heart was racing. Vanessa could see it in your face and chuckled.

“ if…you want, you guys can practice in my place…and you can pay me back by taking me to dinner~ “

“ r-really! I-I mean..you’d let us? “

“ yeah, I have a open bedroom, yall can practice in there. I wouldn’t mind having a little show either. “

You chuckled, smiling again. For the first time you felt so loved, so appreciated. You kissed her once again, standing up and leading her to the door.

“ well…give me a text..I’ll try and talk to the guys. Thank you Vanessa..thank you so much…”

“ of course y/n. I love you dear…”

You smiled, and hugged her tightly.

“ I love you too…”

Vanessa let go, and made her way to the car. She hopped in, waving to you before driving off. You stood, watching her leave, before heading back inside. Never once where you shown such care and respect for your art, you couldn’t let go of her.

[xwingsandohs]

did anyone say good omens fanfic x cupid!reader ?!?!?

good evening tumblr. i have many thoughts for the ineffable fandom. can’t get out of my head a cupid!reader that crowley hangs out with now that azi is gone?!?? broken heart crowley?!?! crowley x reader smut ?!? gender neutral reader?!?!? gender bending crowley?!?!? sex shop running cupid ?!?!?!??! 🫣🤔🤭🪽

I wrote a drabble. Please send thoughts. May write a fic 🫣 XOXO, xwingsandohs.

Angels and demons have always been assigned their roles on earth to protect peace and create chaos, but it’s in the 15th century (or so) that the Almighty notices that humans have evolved themselves beyond simple procreation. And so God creates the Cupids, not necessarily a legion of angels and definitely not demonic, but a collection of holy beings powered by Earthly love to bring happiness and prosperity to humanity in new ways.

Where Aziraphale was defined by white hair and golden clothes, Crowley recognised by fiery red locks and sleek suits; this particular Cupid is defined by a rainbow of colours, patterns and flowers for every occasion.

It’s been three months since Aziraphale left for Heaven’s gates, or escalators to be more accurate, and your attempts to foster and create love in London has suffered thanks to a certain lonely demon moping around. Crowley can’t admit he just needs the company.

“Coffee?” You ask, Crowley hums positively. “What would you like?”

“Something strong.” He’s sitting on a lovely green couch in the back room of your shop, sprawled in all his comfort. It’s decorated with a variety of silly cushions, one particular eye-catching one being bright blue with orange tassels.

The room is littered with beige boxes of spare stock and new deliveries, but you still keep it looking bright with a mis-matched collection of hanging prints and printed wallpaper. You keep it on theme with what you stock.

“I know that, silly.” You shake your head and smile as always, you both do this routine most mornings. The coffee bean grinder grunts loudly and you pick out two big mugs from the cupboard. “What shall I try draw in your coffee with the milk? You know I’ve been practising.”

You have been practising. Despite coffee not being the main draw of your high street shop, you have a vision of giving out free drinks to customers if you can master the art of the latte. You’re getting better, actually.

“A leaf.” Your friend responds, standing up and heading towards you.

“You say that every time!”

Crowley picks up the yellow striped mug you’d taken out for his drink.

“I like the leaf.”

He’s nonchalant. He puts the mug back and looks around for the one he wants.

“But it’s easy and I’d like a challenge. Something silly.”

You grin up at him with a little humour, and he looks back to you with a raised brow.

He can’t find the mug.

You look up and find the mug immediately. It’s completely plain and black, with a slightly lighter shade of grey on the inside. He bought it and gave it to you especially for his drinks. You always fight back.

“Fine.” Crowley says with exasperation. “How about….” He looks around for inspiration in your decor, finding little that he wishes to ask for. “A tree?”

“Oh, I know!” You almost cut him off, exclaiming. He doesn’t know why you bother asking, again, this is your routine. His eyes roll and you can sense it without even seeing. “I’ve just remembered something I saw online the other day and I’d like to try it out.”

“Sure.” He rubs across his face with his hands then spins on the spot to head back to a seat on the couch. The milk steamer screeches and he considers it his cue.

“Could you do me a quick favour before I unlock the doors?” He stops, seconds away from reclaiming comfort on the velvet. He’s not your assistant, but you tend to always ask for these little things.

“I know you’re not my assistant, but there’s a pile of online orders printed out that I need to put together. Could you grab that pile from upstairs for me? It’s next to the-“

“The computer.” He finishes. Routinely.

You finish the coffee.

By the time he’s brought down the pile of paper and placed it where you like it behind the till incase of a quiet moment, you’re skipping over to unlock the door and flip the sign to ‘Open!’ Before it hits 9:01.

Then you rush back to grab the two mugs.

Crowley looks around at the shelves and pegs that hold the stock and shakes his head at everything he sees, humans and their rubbish. He does however appreciate the collection of green plants that have found a place amongst the shelves since he’d been spending lots of time here. They perhaps even look happier than his own, or maybe the colourful shelves really bring out their green.

“I wonder what lovely people will walk through our doors today?” You say with a smile, taking your first sip of coffee and smearing the pattern. Your hand holds out the other cup to Crowley.

He shrugs, takes the coffee from your hand and looks down at the pattern. “It’s a…”

“-A seahorse!” He wouldn’t have guessed it really, but when you point it out he notices. It’s definitely an animal of some sort.

“I like it.” He doesn’t really care for it, but you seem to like the labour, he understands that care. “Although it’s a little…”

He’s not going to say the word.

You’re still grinning, you know the word.

“A little…?” You ask.

“You know, it’s…” He doesn’t say.

“Phallic?” You say it. He doesn’t look away from the coffee.

“Phallic.” He confirms with an unsurprising demeanour .

“I know!” You giggle, he shakes his head.

“You really do take this all very seriously, don’t you?” Crowley chuffs as he leans back against the counter and takes his first sip.

“You could say it’s all about passion in this business.”

Well…. What else would a Cupid sell? The bell above the door rings.

“Good morning.” You call to the first two customers that come through the door. They respond politely back. “Welcome to Sugar ‘n’ Spice, let us know if we can help with anything.”

“Actually, we were looking for some bondage gear?” The lady says as her partner shrinks slightly behind her.

“Of course! Let me introduce you to our selection and then I’ll leave you to shop on your own.”