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cherryredstars · 6 months

Note

Not sure if I’m doing this right since I’m new to tumbler :D but hi love ur writing followed you in an instant!

I was wondering if you could write something for a very low self esteem, inexperienced reader who goes to uni so is like 21 or something and is Miguel’s neighbor. They live in this building and their other neighbor is a rude lady who complains at the slightest Noise basically. she doesn’t dare bother Miguel but is always bothering the reader since reader can’t tell her to f off. Reader is just such sweet chubby lil cinnamon roll :(

Idk if I should have been less descriptive or more TvT; ?

Anyway hope you’re doing great :D don’t forget to hydrate ♥️

1K Prompts

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Age Gap, Sexual Touching (With Clothes on), Slight Fluff

Summary: He helps you, you help him.

A/N: This is perfect, don’t worry, love!!!

Word Count: 2.4K (Not Edited)

This is most definitely going to leave you a crying wreck in your bathroom later.

Your nerves were already on high alert with finally becoming independent and moving out of the college dorms, that pesky exam and assignment you procrastinated on working on, and your job has been firing and hiring people left and right. The last thing you needed was your cranky old neighbor, (it is crazy to think that you once thought she was going to be a kind old woman who would give you cookies when she was lonely), to come banging on your door with a list of complaints and reasons why she could get you evicted. You do not know what to do, never being in this type of situation before. Honestly, you do not even know about half the things this woman is accusing you of.

You can only stand there, hand tightly holding the door open as you try not to cry from stress. In your head, you are counting in an effort to make sure your breaths are coming out evenly. The last thing you want is to have a panic attack and have your neighbor add the threat of a mental hospital to the list. You nod along weakly to what she says, letting out whispered apologies that only seem to make her angrier.

“You useless teenagers and your need to ruin good things, don’t think I forgot when you tr-”

“Is there a problem here?”

His voice is deep and smooth, causing the both of you to jolt. You visibly relax when you turn your head to find Miguel standing outside his apartment door. He has just gotten back from work and running errands, his lab coat draped over his arm as he holds paper bags in his arms. His hair is slightly tousled from the autumn breeze, and a few strands of his black hair are scattered with grey. His sweater hugs his arms and torso in a way that is mouthwatering, and you quickly look away when his eyes meet yours.

Miguel is the only neighbor you really know. He had helped you the first time you moved in, hearing the way you struggled to bring some things up to your apartment. He offered to help, carrying in boxes faster than you could into your apartment. When you had gotten furniture, he was happy to come over and assemble it for you. He is so kind to you, offering to help with a leaking pipe or to answer any of your questions about how to do something. You might have grown a slight crush on your neighbor, something that slightly freaked you out when you realized because of the obvious age gap the two of you have. You have not even finished college yet and he is in his mid-thirties working in a big corporate lab.

Miguel clears his throat and you look back at him. He stares at you expectantly, totally ignoring the stuttering woman who tries to answer his question. He is only ever interested in what you have to say. You flush under his intent gaze, quickly shaking your head. You do not want to cause more problems, and you definitely do not want to have your cranky neighbor form a bigger vendetta against you.

Miguel’s eyebrow raises, definitely catching the anxious expression on your face. He hums dismissively after a minute, eyes lazily trailing back to the older woman. His nose scrunches up slightly at the sight of her and he looks away again as the woman stops trying to defend herself. Miguel shrugs, the paper bags rustling with their contents. He turns to face you, once again ignoring the older woman.

“Then you wouldn’t mind helping me put away my groceries, right? Can’t get my keys with my hands full,” Miguel speaks in a lazy drawl.

You are quick to nod your head in agreement, stepping out of your doorway and closing the door. The woman steps back, a displeased look on her face as she watches you walk over to Miguel. Miguel keeps his eyes trained on you, watching everything you do. You are shy when you smile up at him. With your back turned towards the old woman, you mouth a ‘thank you’ to him. His eyes instantly snap to your lips, intently studying your exaggerated words. His eyes seem to darken for a second before he blinks and it is gone. His eyes trail back up to your eyes and he tilts his head slightly down.

“Keys are in my pants pocket.”

You quickly nod, whispering out an ‘okay’. Your face burns as you have to get closer to him to not knock into his arms. The angle is slightly awkward, your hands slip into his pants pocket and your face burns from having your hand so close to his…thing. As you try to find his keys, Miguel looks down at you with a heated look. He watches silently for a few minutes before looking back up and over your shoulder to the older woman. His face is masked in indifference, maintaining eye contact with her until she fidgets and turns away without saying a word.

At the same time she walks into her own apartment, you make a sound of victory as you finally retrieve his keys. You dangle them in his face with a proud smile, and he gives you an amused smirk. He steps away from his apartment door, giving you room to step in front of him and unlock his door. As you insert the key, you feel Miguel press up against your back. His warmth seeps into your spine and you are quick to bite your tongue so you do not let out a squeal.

His breath tickles your neck and ear, warm and slightly minty. “What did I tell you about standing up for yourself, hmm cariño?”

The question rumbles with his voice and you have to hold your breath in order to not make an embarrassing sound. You turn to look at him over your shoulder and instantly regret it. He has not moved his face yet, and you are a breath away from him. If you leaned forward the slightest bit, your noses would be touching. You gulp nervously, and Miguel’s eyes trail down to your lips once again. He lets out a deep hum as you lick them nervously.

“I- she’s not that mean to me.” You whisper out in the older woman’s defense. You cannot help the way your lashes flutter as you try to meet his eyes.

Miguel scoffs at your defense, finally backing away from you. He shifts his hold on the bags, freeing his hand to turn the doorknob. Your hand is still there, and your breath hitches when his large hand encompasses yours. His hand moves both yours and the doorknob, making a combined effort to open the door. You are still watching him from over your shoulder, mouth slightly opened in awe. Miguel looks down at you, something playful in his eyes as he tilts his head to the side.

“You’re blocking the doorway, cariño. The ice cream I got you is going to melt.”

Your blush returns from the pet name and you stutter out an apology as you rush inside his apartment. It’s warm, and you’re hit with the smell of him. You find the light switch and turn on the lights, flooding the whole place with a warm glow. Miguel follows you into the kitchen, placing the paper bags on the dining room table. He rummages through them, glaring at you when you try to grab one to start helping. His hands connect with something cold, and he pulls out a personal pint of ice cream. He hands it over to you and you turn it around to see the label. Your eyes instantly light up when you read the brand and flavor. Last week you had ranted to Miguel about how the grocery store did not have your favorite ice cream in stock as he was fixing a problem with your internet. The whole time he just hummed along, you did not actually think he was listening.

He smiles softly at you as you beam up at him. He turns back to the groceries, sighing when he sees your hand reaching for the bags again. He turns to you with a bored expression. He gently removes your hands from the bag, telling you to go eat your ice cream before it melts. You grumble playfully under your breath, complaining about how you were supposed to be helping. He chuckles as he follows after you, getting a spoon out for you.

“I thought the whole point was that I was supposed to help you put the groceries away, not eat them.”

Your complaining is cut off by a yelp when Miguel grabs your waist. He lifts you up, putting you on top of the counter. Your eyes are wide as you look at him and his head nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You squirm slightly from his proximity.

“You can help me by sitting prettily and keeping me company. Tell me about your day.”

He pulls away then, returning to the dining room table and carrying a bag to the counter next to you. Your eyes are still bashful as you watch him, quietly opening your ice cream and beginning to eat it. Miguel starts to pull contents from the bag and looks over at you expectantly. Hesitantly, you begin to go through your day, easing into it the more you talk. You speak between bites of ice cream, half paying attention to Miguel as he walks around the kitchen to place things in their proper places. Occasionally, he looks over at you as you speak, his eyes trained on the way you place the spoon in your mouth and lick at the delicious treat.

You are almost done when he puts the last thing away. He walks over to you as you continue talking absentmindedly, just finished slipping the spoon out of your mouth again. You stop talking when Miguel’s eyes drop to your mouth, his thumb coming up the swipe at your lower lip. When he pulls it away, a bit of melted ice cream is stuck to his skin. His eyes meet yours again when he brings it to his mouth, licking it away. He hums in appreciation for the taste.

Your mouth drops open with a gasp as you watch, eyes trained on the pink muscle. You watch as his lips form a sly smile, and you blush as you look back into his eyes. But his eyes are still trained on your parted mouth, eyes dilated and hungry. He leans forward slightly, hand returning to rub at your bottom lip before he replaces it with his lips. He is not kissing you exactly, only sucking on your lip until it is swollen and red. He gives it a small nip before he pulls away, his hands falling to rub your thighs. It causes a small whimper to escape your mouth and Miguel basks in the noise.

His hand seeps closer and closer to the area between your thighs, grabbing the carton of ice cream and moving it to the side. His hands hastily return to the area between your thighs, fingers brushing against your center. Your breath hitches and you look down to where his hands are. Your attention is snapped away when his gravelly voice meets your ears.

“Continue with the story, querida. You don’t sound like you finished.”

You stutter over your words, the topic of conversation blanking from your mind. Miguel chuckles knowingly, his fingers continuing to brush up and down until they land on your clothed bud. He presses into it hard enough so you can feel it through the fabric of your pants and panties, gently reminding you where you left off. You nod nervously, hands snapping up to meet his shoulders as you feel wetness rushing into your panties. You stutter and choke on your words, eyes shutting as you rotate your hips sloppily into his hand. The movement is jerky, and you feel slightly embarrassed at how painfully obvious it is that no one has ever touched you like this before. But Miguel seems to like it, likes the idea that you’re untouched and he is the only person who has seen you like this.

It gets even better when you make those soft noises, cutting yourself off and having to be reminded about what you were saying. Miguel continues his hand movements, pressing into you and rubbing and stroking. Your wetness has seeped through your panties, dampening the material of your leggings. If you were not lost in how good it feels, you would have been grossed out and uncomfortable. A weak call of his name escapes you and Miguel looks up from your cunt to look at your face. He hums in acknowledgement, watching as you try to pull his face closer to yours in a kiss.

He swiftly avoids it, and you would have curled into yourself at the blunt rejection if you did not become distracted by his mouth suck and licking along your neck and jaw. Your mouth falls open with a moan, head leaning back to give him more room. He groans against your skin, fingers pressing tight circles to your clit. With a few hard circles, your back arches and your hold on him tightens. Gasping moans leave you and you feel the band in you snap, releasing more wetness into your panties as you finish. Miguel pulls his head away from your neck, keeping his fingers to your bud as you ride out the orgasm. Once you slump back down, he pulls his hands away. As you catch your breath, Miguel cleans up the mess on the counter. He reaches over, closing your melted ice cream and putting the spoon in the sink.

You are still in a daze when he pushes the warm container in your hands, his own hands gentle as he lifts you off the counter. Your eyes are glossy in after-lust as he gently guides you out of his apartment and into yours. His warm hand leaves the small of your back, massaging your sides before he whispers a thank you into your ear for your help. You are only pulled completely out of your daze when you hear your door lock and close as Miguel leaves. You turn to look at the door, cheeks blazing as you clutch tightly onto your ice cream.

You are totally getting a noise complaint for that old woman tomorrow.

Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5

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sarawritestories · 1 month

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Love Story (All Too Well Chapter 1 Pt 2)

Cassian X OC, Eris X OC

Summary: Under the Mountain, Estella, have flash backs to her 50 years in captivity, and losing hope she will ever see her lover. That is until a human girl shows up and give her and her brother Rhysand something they lost decades ago...Hope and in a matter of mere months she is reunited with the love of her life. The General of the Night Court Armies.

Content Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ Torture, Dub con, Physical abuse, Under the mountain trials

A/N: Special Thanks to @milswrites and @eve175 for keeping me sane when I wrote this and honestly prevented me from scraping and starting over again!

Also Two post in one day from me! I am on a roll! And probably will be taking a small break 😅😅

All Too Well Master List ACOTAR Masterlist

The sound of Amarantha’s screams was like music to Eris Vanserra’s ears. He watched as Tamlin ripped her to shreds, glancing over to see Estella holding Feyre’s body close to her murmuring something to herself that his fae hearing couldn’t pick up on. The screams ceased and Tamlin walked back to where the young fae princess and the human cursebreaker.

Eris watched as Estella a tear-streaked face looked up at the High Lord of Spring her laced covered chest heaving, “I’m so sorry Tamlin.” She lowered her head in shame, as if this was her fault.

Tamlin lifted Estella’s face to meet his eyes, “This wasn’t your fault. Okay?”

Eris moved toward Amarantha’s mutilated body as he heard Estella let out a sob, “You asked me to protect her I failed.” Eris closed his eyes and rubbed at his chest hoping the ache would dissipate.

Eris looked over at Amarantha’s remains that were mostly ribbons of flesh and found what he was looking for as Tamlin hushed the Princess of Night. “You did no such thing, Stella, now please give her to me.” Tamlin’s voice was tender as he knelt in front of the female holding his love’s corpse. “Come on, Flower.”

Romeo Save Me Somewhere We Can Be Alone

Eris looked over at the dais to see Estella, half of her pinned to the back of her head, the rest of her hair had fallen past her breast in soft curls. Clad in a sheer orange gown, the fabric barely covering anything, especially how his high queen had her positioned on Tamlin’s lap. Her legs spread by his thighs, her back pressed against his chest. The Princess placed her hand over the Lord of Spring and Eris noticed his thumb moved over hers and began swiping periodically. As if he was trying to bring her comfort. The heir of Autumn knew those two were friends just never realized how close the pair was.

The red-haired male moved his gaze to the rest of the ballroom, fighting the urge to clench his fist, he caught his brother’s attention. His russet eyes met with a similar pair of Lucien, his metal eye zeroing in on him. The young Emissary of the spring court’s face was impassive though his eyes, held pure resentment. Lucien didn’t let his stare linger on his brother rather it moved to his two friends at the front of the room. Guilt threatened to take hold, but the eldest Vanserra brother forced it down in a box where he kept most of his emotions shutting the lid tight. Another person that he had let down.

“Estella, darling be a dear and entertain us.” Amarantha’s voice drew Eris his attention back to the princess of night. “Dance.”

Estella froze, “Your Majesty?”

Amarantha pinched her chin, “I said dance, has whoring you around my court made you dumb.” Eris gripped the side of his leg tightly as he glanced over to the High Lord of Night, his tanned face a mask of cool indifference, Eris gazed lowered to Rhysand’s hands to find his knuckles were white as a result of gripping the arms of his chair tightly.

“No, Your Majesty,” Estella responded. “Or perhaps you would prefer to give a dance to one person.”

Rhysand cleared his throat, “Your majesty, I would be-“

Amarantha whipped her head, “No.” She looked out to the assembly in the hall. “I will accept volunteers from anyone that is not related to her.”

Eris’s feet moved of his own accord and managed to reach the dais before Lucien could. As he bowed lowed, “Your majesty. Though I have no need for a dance, I would be honored.”

Amarantha’s voice had a jovial lilt to it, “Ah Eris Vanserra. Yes, you have my permission to use her, however, you please. Rise. Claim your whore.”

Eris rose to his full height and walked up to the young heiress. He held out a hand for her, “Come now, Viper.” Estella curled her mouth in a small snarl, though her eyes were vacant, hallow as if she mentally went somewhere else. Though she gripped his hand all the same. He yanked her off Tamlin’s lap and pressed her chest to his. His arm snaked around her waist, his fingertips grazing the bare skin of her hip. Electricity bolted up his arm at the contact though he easily ignored it.

“Estella, how do you thank Eris, for claiming you this evening.” Amarantha prodded; Eris didn’t miss her face contorted in a grimace. Before she looked up her ice blue eyes meeting his warm copper ones, life had returned to her, but Eris could feel her dread, it emulated around her like a shield. Though that didn’t stop her from lifting her hand sliding it up the red velvet embroidered vest he was wearing. Or when her soft, gentle fingers slid up his neck and through the silken strands of his long hair.

She rose on her tippy toes her plump lips inches away from his own, “Thank you, Prince Eris,” Estella closed the distance kissed him. Eris slid his hand up her back, lightly grazing her spine as his hand wrapped around her raven-colored locks and yanked her back hard enough to cause a gasp from the princess’ mouth, giving the Autumn Court Heir access to slide his tongue against her. She tasted as sweet as he hoped she would. His tongue clashing with hers he could have sworn a small moan escaped her throat.

The need for oxygen and knowing that the two had put on enough of a show for their audience, Eris pulled away, with a smirk as Estella opened her eyes her pupils blissed out from their moment. Before he could ask, Amarantha, was waving her hand, “Eris you and your pet are dismissed for the evening.”

Eris bowed, and Estella followed suit, aware that it would expose her backside to the fae standing behind them. Eris placed a hand on the small of her back and led her out into the hall. The two had walked down for a few moments the sound of Estella’s skirt swishing against her skin, her hands clasped in front of her, when she asked, “What do you plan on doing with me, Princeling?”

Exhaustion weighed heavily on the prince’s body, as he sighed, “Sleep, My Little Viper. We’re going to sleep.”

This Love Is Difficult, But It's Real

The whole court ogled around and watched as the High Lords of Prythian dropped a kernel of power on the human girl that saved them all. Eris Vanserra on the other hand watched as his brother held onto the Princess of Night as her sobs softened. He could see Lucien whispering in her ear though from where he stood even his fae hearing wouldn’t be able to decipher. Ignoring the spectacle Eris walked over to one his handmaidens.

She bowed when he approached, saying nothing, he gripped the plump woman’s sleeve and began wiping the blood of the Tiara he grabbed. Once he was satisfied, he turned and walked over to Lucien and Estella. The youngest Vanserra son tightened his hold on Estella when Eris approached. “Relax, brother, today is a joyous day. We can put aside our differences for now.” Lucien growled, “Feel free to hate me again tomorrow.”

Estella’s eyes pierced the Autumn Prince’s and Eris presents the tiara glancing down at the lace covered bodice of her dress that dipped down to her stomach, “I believe this belongs to you, Little Viper.” He smirked as he met her eyes again. She glanced at his hands and reached out to grab the accessory from him, tearing herself from Lucien’s arms as she did so. Eris took a step back and dangled the tiara above her head, “Allow me.” He motions for his index finger to spin around. She obeyed and crossed her arms, the dark red silk of her dress swirling as she did. Her scent of Ocean mist and Jasmine invaded his nose he fought the notion to bask in her scent, as he placed the tiara on top of her head. Stepped closer and noticed the sharp breath she took as his nose brushed against her ear, “There now you look fit to rule a kingdom, Princess.”

He could hear her heartrate quicken as he took a step away and once more as cheers erupted through the cave. The three of them turned to find Feyre embraced in Tamlin’s arms, ears pointed heartbeat strong and steady. “By the Cauldron.” Lucien whispered and ran up to his friends. Leaving the two alone.

“I have to thank you, Princeling.” Estella’s voice broke the tension.

“For?”

“Giving me brief little moments of reprieve from this nightmare.” Her piercing eyes met his, “I am in your debt.”

Eris was about to dispute it when in a flash arm wrapped around Estella pulling her into a tight embrace, had he not seen the matching raven-colored hair, the heir of Autumn would have prepared for an attack. Rhysand pulled away as if remembering where he had put his hands in his pockets assessed his sister. “Are you hurt?”

Estella turned to Eris only to find he was already gone. She sighed and looked back at her brother. “I’m fine, Rhys.”

He nodded and, in her mind said, The High Lords are meeting to figure out the next steps. I don’t know how long that will take. Then out loud he said, “As your High Lord, I’m demanding you head home immediately and make sure our court held up in our absence.” Estella noticed the hint of a smirk on his face, Tell Cassian hello for me, and that I’ll be home soon.

Estella’s face lit up, she kissed her brother on the cheek, “Thank you, High Lord.” She took a step, looked back toward Lucien and Tamlin. Both males embracing Feyre. Green eyes met hers and with a dip of his chin she bolted and winnowed home.

I’ll Be Waiting

The Summer night breeze kissed her skin as she arrived in front of the town home. Home. She was home. Picking up her skirts she bolted through the front door of the town home. She could hear laughter in the dining room pause when the door slammed shut. Before anyone could get up, she ran into the room. Gasp and fallen utensils were the only thing she heard before, Morrigan her hair in perfect waves and dressed in her signature red gown rose from her seat, her eyes turning glassy. “So, it’s true? It’s over?” She asked.

Estella wiped the stray tears that had begun to fall, “Yeah. Its over.” She croaked as Mor pulled her into a bone crushing hug. “Fuck, I have missed you guys.”

A pair of scarred calloused hands tugged at her bare shoulders, “Don’t hog her, Mor.” Azriel’s deep voice joked as he pulled her into an embrace of his own. He pulled away and she felt the cool kiss of his shadows up and around her body, checking for injuries. He pressed his forehead to hers, “Its good to have your home.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and guided her to a chair. He began to make her a plate of food, as he asked, “Where’s Rhys?”

Estella eyes grew wide with the spread Azriel placed before her. Taking a heaping bite before she answered, she couldn’t help but moan as the warm food met her mouth. The bountiful flavor bursting on her tongue. She looked at Mor, and Az as she swallowed her food and said, “He said there would be a meeting with the High Lord’s about what is going to happen next, no doubt trying to get Amarantha’s” She fought the cringe at the sound of the female’s name coming out of her mouth, “men collected and figuring out what to do with them.”

Amren’s cold calculating voice was a welcome reprieve, “Why didn’t you stay with him?”

Estella turned her head to the female and smiled, “He wanted me to come home, let you know he would be back soon.” Estella, smiled and looked at the table, acutely aware of the empty missing, “Where is he?”

Azriel gave her a warm smile and placed his hand on top of her own his hazel eyes ablaze with warmth and happiness, “He went to the Illyrian camps a few weeks ago. He has been spending a lot of time up there to personally train his soldiers. He says its to make sure they have the best training we can offer.”

Estella felt guilt bubble in her stomach, “But?”

Azriel’s face fell slightly, his shadows curling around him as a form of comfort, “He had been struggling staying in Velaris for too long. It Reminded him of you and the future you two were planning. He missed you.”

“We all did, Girl.” Amren corrected. Estella’s blue eyes met her swirling silver ones, “Don’t look so surprised. Your quick wit against these overgrown bats was impressive. It was nice to not be the only one with a silver tongue.”

Estella blinked; she couldn’t remember a time when Amren had outwardly complimented her. Though she wasn’t about to question the tiny one’s motives, she went back to shoveling food in her mouth. She went for seconds and cleaned that plate too, Azriel grabbed her plate when she attempted to go for more, “Pace yourself, you’ll make yourself sick.”

“The food was awful down there.” If she got any that was. She didn’t miss the concerned glances from her friends when she arrived. She hadn’t looked in a mirror in 50 years and she was afraid to, terrified at what her reflection might reveal. How badly Amarantha’s abuse taken a toll on her physically as it had emotionally. Estella met Azriel’s gaze and he gave her a smile, kissing the side of her head. Estella cleared her throat, “Um, I am going to go upstairs and wash up.”

Mor gave her a warm smile, one she never thought she would see again, “Your room has not been touched, your clothes have been routinely cleaned.”

Estella rubbed her chest and the base of her throat fighting the emotion threatening to come up. “Thank you.”

Azriel cupped her cheek. Stroking his thumb against her cheek, “Welcome home, Princess.”

She wrapped her arms around Az and squeezed him tightly. “I missed you. I never thought I would see you again.”

“Likewise.” He pressed his hand on the back of her head holding her close. “Fuck.” She pulled away at the Shadow Singer’s expletive and saw that his eyes lined with silver. “I’m just..” He took a deep breath, “I’m just happy to see you.”

“Me too, Az. I missed your face.” He laughed wiping his eyes, as she looked to all three of her friends, “Not a day went by that I didn’t think about you.” The two females rose from their seats and as if they were reading each other’s thoughts smothered the young female into a tight embrace, where she let her tears flow freely.

Home. She was finally, Home.

On The Balcony In Summer Air

The cool night air kissed Estella's skin for the first time in fifty years as she leaned against the balcony the silk of her red night gown doing nothing to prevent the chill, but the female couldn’t bring herself to care. Looking up at the night sky. She couldn't help but smile as tears pickled her pale blue eyes. This is what it felt like:

To be free

"Hello, Sweetheart." The low timbre of a familiar voice elicited a sob to escape her throat. Turning from the view of the city, she met glassy hazel eyes, bruises darkening his tanned skin under them. His wings were tucked back, but his siphons glowed.

She gave him a watery smile, "Hello, General." She covered her mouth to stifle the sobbed. Not being able to contain herself, she leaped into his awaiting arms and legs wrapping around his waist. Burying her face in the crook of his neck.

Cassian's arm held her up by her waist, his free hand pressing the back of her head holding her close, tears streaming down his own face. Estella pulled away and pressed her lips to his.

Cassian pulled away, pressing his forehead to hers, "Welcome home, Estella." And his lips reattached to hers as he took her to their shared bed. Plopping her down on the bed his hazel eyes met her blue ones he swiped a strand of hair from her face.

She cupped her hands against his face, and took a moment to look at him, his eyes had dark circles under them, as if he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in the last fifty years. He had grown out a beard the scruff rough against her skin. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” She whispered.

Cassian cupped his hand against her cheek, tears spilling down his face. “I’m thinking that you are just as beautiful as the last time I saw you.” He kissed her forehead, “I’m thinking that I can’t believe that you are right here in my arms.” She closed her eyes as he pressed his lips to her cheek. “I’m thinking…” He took a deep breath, and she opened her eyes. “I’m thinking, how I never thought I would see you again. And yet here you are.”

Estella smiled, “Here I am.” She took his hand and placed it over her heart and he closed his eyes as he felt its steady beat. “Cassian, not a day went by where I didn’t wish to be with you. To be in your arms.” Tears threatened to fall but she forced it down. “I missed you so much.”

Cassian shushed her and placed his lips on to hers in a gentle kiss, “It’s okay, Sweetheart, I know. I missed you. More than you could ever know.” He kissed her again, “And just so we’re clear when your brother comes home. I am beating the shit out of him.”

“Cass?”

“Hmm?” He smirked.

She gripped the collar of his leathers and pulled him closer to him, he growled in approval as she whispered on his lips, “Do not talk say my brother’s name while you’re in my bed.” And she clashed her lips onto his.

Estella ran her fingers through Cassian’s curls as the General was fast asleep on his stomach. Sliding out of her bed, she opened the drawer of her nightstand, grabbed a piece of parchment, and walked back out onto her balcony. Looking back once more she made sure that Cassian remained asleep as she turned back to the parchment in her hands. Opening the parchment thinking about the author of the note.

Estella awoke back in her cell. The memory of Autumn leaves and cinnamon returning to her. She adjusted to a sitting position her brows furrowing as she felt something in her palm. Opening the note, her breath quickened as bile threatened to rise as the question, she asked the night before came to the forefront of her mind:

“Then what do you want with me, Princeling?”

One sentence gave her his answer in perfectly neat handwriting.

I want you, My Little Viper.

Estella folded the paper and threw it on the opposite side of the cell. Pulling her knees up to her chest she had to question just how far the Prince of Autumn would go to get what he wants.

Estella sighed, staring down at the swirls of Eris’ handwriting, questions swirling in her mind. As if she summoned him with her thoughts; a note appeared in front of her. Grabbing the parchment, she unfolded it.

Will you ever truly be free, Little Viper?

Estella glared at the parchment hoping it would erupt into flames. Folding both notes, she walked into her room, placed the notes in her nightstand, and went back to bed. The General of the Night Court’s armies arm pulling her against his chest. Though luscious red hair and russet eyes plagued her dreams.

You’ll Be The Prince and I’ll Be the Princess

After fifty long years Eris, stepped into the familiar room of orange, red and gold hues of his study. Twelve heads perked up as they saw Eris step in. The familiar dark eyes of his hounds perked up and all of them ran to their owner’s side. He bent down on a knee and allowed each of them a total of one lick per dog. Unable to fight the smile from his features of reuniting with his companions. “Hello dear Friends. I have missed you dearly.” They all swished their tails at the sound of their master’s voice.

Home after Amarantha’s fall, the High Lords met for two days in a row and after sitting in a room with massive egos, it was nice to return home to the quiet of his study. He walked over to his desk the mountain of paperwork there. He sighed and leaned against his chair closing his eyes, only for the ice blue eyes and raven-black hair plagued his brain. He pressed his hands to his eyes and groaned.

He sat up and removed his hands from his eyes, as an idea began to form. Opening his drawer to find his favorite quill and ink pots right where he left them. Pulling them out along with the stack of parchment. Eris began to write, as soft pink lips and the scent of Ocean Mist and Jasmine lingered in his mind as his quill began swirling across the parchment:

My Sweet Little Viper. My Beautiful Mate.

It’s A Love Story, Baby, Just Say Yes

To Be Continued...

Story tags: @milswrites @eve175 @melsunshine @believinghurts @awkardnerd @historygeekqueen @mischiefmanagers @mybestfriendmademe @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris @glitterypirateduck @littlestw01f @mal-adaptive-dreams @lilah-asteria @hellodarling1357 @shadowdaddies @bxm-1012 @inkyvelvet @chasing-autumns-chill @ghostwritermia @esposadomd @anuttellaa @slytherintaco @marigold-morelli @saltedcoffeescotch

If I missed someone please let me know!

#cassian x reader #cassian acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar #cassian imagine #eris imagine #eris x oc #eris x reader #eris vanserra x oc #eris vanserra #eris acosf #eris acotar

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miheartsedthings · 3 months

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(And a hopeful rhythm broke within him)

Glory

(You are required by law to listen to this song while you read this)

Just a little post StarCourt fluff

Billy Hargrove stands in the summer sun flooding your porch, his arm leaning against the frame. Steve, Nancy, and Robin are waiting in the car parked in the street. He’s looking at you, so determined but of what you have no idea. His cool blue eyes take stock of your face and then flick away as he glances over his shoulder at the car.

“You got this,” Robin shouts, and is then elbowed by Steve.

Billy makes a face as he turns back to you, one of aggravation and impatience. Though not with you, but with himself. It’s simple, this thing he’s come to do. One of many stops on his way to turning himself around. It’s been months since StarCourt, the day which had effectively electroshocked his nervous system, opening his eyes to the larger evils of the world. He knew now that he didn’t want to be part of them ever again. But the road to a better self was full of obstacles, internal and external.

This one he’d been putting off, but summer was nearly over and you’d be moving into the dorms soon. It was now or never.

“You okay?” You ask, stepping onto the porch.

He backs up to give you space and you drag the door closed behind you. This is only the second time Billy has spoken directly to you, the first being the day you recited a poem at the senior assembly, afterwards in the hall you’d bumped into him and he’d scowled at you.

“Good job up there, I’ve never felt so many of my brain cells fry up all at once.”

Those words burned, and stuck with you for many reasons, not least of all was that despite yourself, you had a thing for Billy. Not his rudeness or his boorish party games, but him. For some reason you liked him, you could love him, given the chance.

Now he’s on your porch, and his eyes are full of a question and he’s hesitating to say something.

“Look. Sorry about that day.” he says, his brows pushed together in a frustrated glare. “The thing you read was nice I just…yeah, sorry.”

You smile.

“I can’t believe you’re apologizing.” You say. “What’s come over you?”

“A lotta shit happened.”

You nod a little, and stand there watching him watch you, and your brows raise.

“Is that it?”

He huffs, grinning a little, shaking his head because he can’t believe he’s nervous.

“Come out with me.”

You blink twice, a flutter of surprise dropping you back a step.

“E-excuse me?”

He chuckles, shifting around, beautiful as ever in his denim jacket.

“You’re gonna make me say it again?” His eyes land on yours, and that charming grin spreads farther. His heart is beating so fast because…he really likes you. He's always liked you. A cool breeze sweeps across the porch, reminding you of autumn’s quick approach.

“Maybe.”

He looks at you, and his grin erupts into a full blown smile. You’ve never seen Billy smile like that and you didn’t know it’d be so lovely.

“Tease,” he laughs. “C’mon.”

You’re full of warmth. Your life full of welcome changes. You weren’t expecting this, but you can’t say no.

“Alright,” you say, and watch his smile fade a little, his eyes softening with the realization that you’ve said yes. You actually said yes. “I’ll go out with you Billy Hargrove, but you better be nice to me.”

His smile spreads again.

“Yeah, darlin, I’ll try.”

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things #fanfic #billy hargrove imagine #billy stranger things #billy hargrove fluff

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florencemtrash · 4 months

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Brown Eyed Beauty — Lucien x Reader

Fond, childhood memories are few and far between for Lucien. But he's reminded of every good thing when he looks at you.

Author's note: DAMNIT! Brown eyes deserve to be treated with the same tender reverence as any other color. This one is for all the brown eyed beauties (and Lucien lovers) out there.

There was a hidden stream Eris had taken him fishing once, back when he was a stringy child with two eyes and soft hands.

“You’ll need to build up your strength and the calluses on your palms, then the fish won’t be able to slip out of your grasp so easily.” Eris told him, standing up to his knees in the gentle current, pant legs rolled up with the ends dripping. His body was slim as a reed, but strong, and on the cusp of adulthood. Pale bruises were scattered across a pale, freckled chest, purple, green, and yellow.

Lucien watched with bated breath as Eris tracked a shiny, silver-pink body darting between the rocks, his eyes untricked by the bending of sunlight as it dove into the water.

There.

Eris leaned down and dipped his hands into the stream with lightning swiftness. “Gotcha.”

His hands broke the water. The salmon writhed, fighting with every gasping breath and splashing water onto Eris’s already soaking trousers.

“Here.” Eris stretched his arms out to where Lucien stood in the shallows. The salmon was giving up, the rhythm of its whipping body slowing. “It’s tired. Try holding it now.”

Lucien held on for five seconds before the tail slapped him across the face, startling him so much he dropped the fish and its scaly, sleek body began to race downstream.

“No!” Lucien dove for it, red hair slipping under clear waters. The current was stronger than he expected, or maybe it was just that he was weaker than his brother. He felt something pulling downward, keeping him submerged.

His first response was to panic, to flail his arms and legs out uselessly. But then he stopped. It was peaceful down here, the water so clear that he could catch every grain of sand splashed over brick-brown rocks like stars. Tiny fishes, silky smooth with beady eyes, darted in and out of crevices. Light behaved differently underwater, fragmenting and casting lovely golden shapes on stones the color of fresh-pressed coffee.

Here it was calm. Here was a place where Beron’s power couldn’t touch him. Here he was safe.

A strong hand grasped the back of his shirt, hauling him up soaking and sputtering with a brackish taste sliding down his throat.

The bruises on Eris’s cheekbones stood out on his pale skin, the fright in his eyes turning to anger.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Eris yelled and all but tossed his sopping body onto a yellowing patch of grass.

“I’m sorry,” Lucien mumbled. He sat, shivering in the Autumn chill until Eris caught another salmon and assembled sticks in a neat circle of sand, lighting it with a snap of his slender fingers.

“Tomorrow we’ll come back,” Eris promised as Lucien sank his teeth into the juicy, pink flesh. The skin was perfectly crisp and grease dribbled down his chin hot and slick. Eris wiped it away with a soft swatch of moss. “I’ll teach you to swim properly.”

He didn’t seem to mind the descending cold, and for that Lucien was grateful. It meant he would get to keep Eris’s shirt until his was finished drying on the cracked log.

But unbeknownst to them, Beron had come home earlier than anticipated with their other brothers. Eris was whipped ten times for leaving the Forest House unattended and Lucien was locked in his room for three days. They never went back to that stream — at least not together — and Lucien learned to swim on his own in less forgiving waters.

Lucien still clung onto the memories of that day. Good memories from his childhood were far and few between.

“You’re staring again.” You sighed contentedly and shifted in the little cradle of earth you’d claimed for youself. Yellowing, waist-high grasses swayed above you, occasionally bowing down with slender fingers to tickle your cheeks. A hundred yards away the Sidra tumbled over stones, rolled onto gray-sand beaches. The air tasted of salt and seaweed. Crisp, tangy, clear.

“How did you know?” Lucien asked, and you could hear the gentle caress of his smile in the words.

You cracked open your eyes against the sun’s assault high in the midafternoon sky. Sure enough, Lucien was staring at you, golden eye whirring. You ran a languid finger down the bond, light and airy as a kiss. He braced his arms by your head, sinking down until his body was pressed flush against yours.

You smiled. “I can feel it. It’s my special talent.”

“Oh?” Lucien chuckled.

“I’ve cultivated it over the years. A product of having a brute like you chase after me like a hound goes after a fox.” Not that you’d ever gone far.

Scarlet strands of hair slipped out of the braid you’d arranged hours ago. They hung around his elegant, scarred face like liquid fire, casting a warm glow onto his already tanned skin. You tucked them back behind his sharp ears. Traced the curve of his bones until he was leaning into your touch.

“You wound me,” he murmured, kissing your palms.

You blushed, feeling the brush of his full lips against your sensitive skin. “I didn’t mean it.”

He smiled — a crooked, boyish smile. “I know.”

He looked into your coffee eyes. The light bent differently when they touched your irises, curving around the bends like honey, cutting amber crescents at the edges of their rich color. You closed and opened them slowly, letting the light pour in like cream into coffee, swirling and setting them aflame.

Lucien was back in that stream. The world was still. There was nothing that could hurt him. Just clarity, peace, and the riverbed glittering beneath him.

“I love you, Y/n.”

#lucien vanserra #lucien x reader #lucien acotar #eris vanserra #you know I couldn't help but include a scene between the only two good Autumn Court boys #Eris Vanserra has untapped potential to become the next Rhysand and no I will not change my mind #this man is a goldmine and has done everything to protect himself and his family from beron #fuck beron he can rot in hell

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mistydeyes · 11 months

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take a walk in my shoes

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summary: With the 141 boys home and relaxing in your embrace, you decide to show them a day in your life. A sequel to opposite occupations.

pairing: 141 x civvie! fem!Reader (established relationship)

warnings: swearing, mentions of tattooing (tattoo guns and needles), but like before all fluff!

a/n: i love our lil squad of civilian significant others and thought a sequel needed to be made for our faves :)

🏷️ @fan-of-encouragement - thanks for giving me some ideas for price and the florist!

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watching love bloom - price x florist!

Ever since you first met, Price had been a tremendous help with the management of your shop. You had been going steady for a year now, "10 years in military time" Price would say. Although, it was as if you both were practically married. Besides hosting dinners and communicating with the other civilian girlfriends (in a group chat called "almost military wives🪖💍"), you lived like an old, married couple. Together, you and Price owned a small cottage placed in the English countryside. It was idyllic as Price could spend his evenings on the porch with a smoke and you could tend to a growing flower garden. Price requested some design choices but overall you furnished the home with items curated for the two of you. Your house was constantly filled with life, a new bouquet always resting on the table, and many thriving houseplants. Price would always joke that the plants were like your children especially when you went to water some and even sang to them.

Upon Price’s return to your shared home, he could tell something was on your mind. The living room was a mess with written notes and sketches as well as many sample flower bouquets.

“Darling I’m home!” he called setting his things down. He wondered where you could be. Suddenly you came from the backyard with an armful of flowers and your phone balanced between your ear and shoulder. When you saw him, you almost dropped your trimmings but Price moved to you and caught them.

“I’m glad you liked the arrangements, I’ll have them ready tomorrow,” you sighed before the other person on the line hung up.

After bombarding him with many kisses, he reminded you that the flowers were wilting with the lack of hydration.

“Who was that before?” he asked as he filled some buckets with water for you.

“It’s a bride from London, she and her partner are getting married in town. Funny enough, they started dating because of my little flower sign.” you chuckled as you began to prune the leaves and trim the stems from your haul. “Ah sounds like someone I know,” he said, gently kissing your forehead.

“As much as I enjoy the celebration of love and business, it’s been a whirlwind. You wouldn’t imagine how many phone calls and test runs I’ve had.” It was no exaggeration, these last few weeks had been a living hell as you helped the couple make their final preparations.

“Let me help you out tomorrow, got nothing better to do” he offered as he wrapped his strong arms around your waist. “You really don’t have to” you replied but he could see the stress this was putting on you. “Darling, there is nothing more that I would love than spending time with you and seeing you at work.”

You and Price woke up bright and early at 5 am. The sun crept on your sleeping face as he gently woke you. After some necessary coffee, you and Price opened your shop. You went to work, grabbing buckets of flowers from the fridge. You loved the brides but this order was shipped to you from a farm, one currently not being met with the cold, autumn temperatures. As you trimmed the summery array of dahlias, hydrangeas, and cosmos, Price helped to move the never-ending buckets and took care of the growing piles of trash. You were in the middle of showing him how to assemble a bridesmaid bouquet when you heard the door open.

"Fuck, can you take care of that?" you asked as you glanced at the clock, the wedding slowly approaching. "Love, what did I tell you when we first met?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I am not a man for flowers" you both said in unison. You continued, "Please John? I have a list underneath the counter detailing the different flowers for occasions. You got this!" you placed a small kiss on his lips, knowing he would do whatever you asked.

He nodded and exited to the front. When he emerged, he could see an elderly woman. "Can you help me pick out flowers? My grandson just got a new job and is moving here tomorrow" she sweetly asked. "Oh and young man, I just need them wrapped. No arranging necessary" she continued and you could hear Price rifling around for your book. Miraculously through your notebook's guidance and some of your aesthetic impressed on him, he was able to help her pick out a colorful array of peonies, tulips, and chrysanthemums - a perfect combination for a congratulations gift. You made sure to shout out from the back that he should include some wisterias and eucalyptus as a nice welcome message. You caught a glance at the bouquet and you were happy to see that the lilac hydrangeas with the orange ballerina tulips were balanced with the magenta chrysanthemums and the bundles of wisteria and eucalyptus. You can safely say, the one thing he was a natural at was tying up the loose stems. You guess his training did come in handy.

As you finished making the final additions to your bouquet, you heard Price making conversation with the older woman. “Young man, I hope you have a sweetheart at home waiting for you,” she said as you peeked and saw him handing her a bouquet. “I do actually, she reminds me that there’s more to life than destruction,” he said and you could’ve married him on the spot. The old woman wished him well as you heard the sound of her exit.

As you exited from the back, you planted a kiss on his cheek. “What’s that for?” he asked. “For being the boyfriend and employee” you smiled back at him, admiring his face that shined in the afternoon light. “Might have to change positions soon,” he joked and while you initially thought he meant employment, you realized it was something else as a more than year later he proposed. Don’t worry, he let you handle the wedding floral arrangements.

two inked hearts - soap x tattoo artist!

Although Soap had his own home, he always managed to end up at yours when he was on leave. This time was no different but unfortunately, the short notice did not allow you to take off of work. You had two customs the next day and four flash works as well.

As you were enjoying your beer, you heard the front door unlock. Knowing who it was, you walked to the entrance and saw your boyfriend standing there. Although he appeared tired and a bit grimy, his face lit up when he saw you. He kicked off his snow covered boots and dropped his duffle. He held his arms out and you immediately embraced him.

After many kisses, you lightly punched his chest. "I didn't know you were coming home so early!" you said, slightly pouting. "Well is that any way to greet a soldier," he replied and you couldn't help but smile as you missed his loving accent. "I would have called off work tomorrow," you began to say before he interrupted. "Work doesn't have to stop because I'm home, lass. I'll just go to work," he said as you pondered this decision. It was clear, he didn’t want your busy schedule to get in his way and would follow you around like a lost puppy. "I mean if the shop and the patrons don't mind, then I guess," you said back, ecstatic he would see you in your element. "Until then, you're all mine, Bonnie" he laughed before picking you up and sat you both back on the couch.

After a rushed morning, trying to get the man to let you out of bed, you showed up to work. It was winter so to Soap's dismay, you were unable to showcase all your amazing tattoos. He did insist on matching outfits. So emerging from the winter cold, you entered both wearing matching beanies and winter coats. Upon your arrival, one of your fellow artists warmly greeted Soap and commented on how cute you both were. After some catching up, you went to set up your station. Soap followed you and watched as you got your tattoo gun and the inks you would be using for the first customer. He held your waist as you sterilized the area. "My beautiful artist," he cheekily said and you rolled your eyes.

Now you were no idiot, there was no way anyone would let him tattoo them. Although his signature mohawk made him fit in with the shop's patrons. Knowing he would eventually become bored after watching you, you left him with a sketch pad and pens in a corner of your room. Your first client of the day was one of your frequent patrons. They had decided on one of your flash pieces, a hand holding a bouquet of rosemary leaves, on their thigh. As you got them comfortable in the chair, you gave Soap a quick peck and began the process. You would occasionally glance over and see him drawing with a concentrated look. “From strong, protective boyfriend to a child in seconds,” you mumbled and earned a hearty laugh from your patron.

And so the day continued, you tattooing away and Soap drawing in the corner. He would occasionally ask you what the different needle gun sizes were for and how you were able to create custom works for clients. He even conversed with another soldier getting a bicep tattoo of a skull with snakes surrounding it. You thought the idea was badass, complimenting his choice. Almost immediately, Soap interjected to say his tattoo was the best compared to the one they were getting. Eventually, once you were done for the day, you walked to Soap to see what he was drawing. You snatched the paper and in return, he pulled you into his lap.

"Well, what do we have here, my tattoo apprentice?" you asked, holding up the paper. As you looked at each drawing, you could see some familiar faces. You couldn't help but laugh when you say "You have to pay the" with Price's face following the words. He even managed to draw what looked like a depiction of Simon underneath his mask as well as Price in a florist's apron in front of his girlfriend's shop.

Your favorite was the bar of soap he had drawn in the corner with a surprising amount of detail. "You know with this work and the fact they call you 'Soap', I would think you wouldn't be as smelly," you joked. "I thought it was cool at first, they all said it was because I'm good at cleaning house but I see what you mean," he said, slightly embarrassed. You kissed him gently before telling him it was time to return to your warm bed.

Weeks later, you texted Soap a picture of your new tattoo. It was the sketch he had drawn of the bar of soap. You had done it yourself, his drawing placed on your forearm. He loved it, proudly showing it off to the other 141 boys and anyone who listened. He even was sure to text Alejandro and Rudy a picture with the caption "mira el nuevo tatuaje de mi novia!". He did ignore the reply from Alejandro that asked, “¿por qué la chica inteligente se tatuaría una barra de jabón?”

translations: mira el nuevo tatuaje de mi novia! - look at my girlfriend's new tattoo!

¿por qué una chica inteligente se tatuaría una barra de jabón? - why would a smart girl get a bar of soap tattooed on her?

being the teacher's pet - gaz x teacher!

"You know the kids always ask about you," you told Gaz as you lay leisurely on his couch. It was a Sunday and you both were enjoying each other's presence before the school week. He came home on Friday and you welcomed him home with a cooked meal and his favorite bottle of wine. The entire weekend was filled with cuddling on the couch and catching up about the last couple of months. You laughed when he told you of Soap's girlfriends tattoo. You joked wishing he had a cooler call sign so you could get it tattooed. Since your first date, you both had established a comfortable long distance relationship but you always loved when he was home.

"I could make an appearance," he joked. As you lay on his chest, you could feel him laughing lightly. He would come to regret that statement as you begged him to visit the class the next day. After some convincing, he obliged unable to deny your sweet face.

The next day, you stopped by Kyle’s flat for some morning coffee. As you opened the door, you could see him standing by the hallway mirror making sure he looked presentable. You smiled, noting he was wearing the beige button-up and navy blue sports coat you had bought him. You suddenly felt underdressed in your green slacks and brown blouse.

“You look great, Kyle, let’s go get something to drink” you spoke and he looked at you with his charming smile that brightened the room. He took your hand gently and you walked to the local coffee shop. It was spring and you couldn't help but admire the new blooms on the trees. Once you both arrived, you enjoyed your morning brew as he sipped his tea. You wished he could stay home forever as he looked so relaxed in the early morning sun. However, you suddenly were reminded of the time and kissed him on the cheek, reiterating that he should be at school for snack time.

Once you arrived at the school, you went about your typical routine and eventually, it was time to begin your lessons. You went through your plan, teaching your students basic arrhythmic in the morning. As snack time approached, you smiled knowing you'd make your students' day.

“Alright, class! I have a surprise for you” you eagerly said. Gaz was on the other side of the classroom door, smiling as he heard your enthusiastic voice. “We have a special guest today who’s going to join us for snack time!”

With that, you whisked open the door and Gaz walked into the cheers of the children. He had two lunchboxes in his hand and your heart melted. The entire class wanted Gaz to sit with them so you decided to form them into a circle so everyone could enjoy his presence. You opened the lunchbox to reveal a variety of strawberries and watermelon, delicately cut into hearts. As everyone ate their snacks, one of your students asked if Gaz would be teaching them today.

"Well I'm sure Mr. Military Man could teach you some things while we eat," you winked looking at Gaz. The children were giddy with excitement and kept begging Gaz to teach them some military things. Not wanting to expose them to the horrors of his job, he simply taught them the military alphabet and assigned them all code names. He carefully assigned one to each kid based on their personalities as well as some stories you had told him. As you watched your boyfriend methodically assign the names, you softly chuckled to yourself. In another life, Gaz would be an amazing teacher as he was great with the kids.

Once snack time was over, you let the children know they would be doing some quiet reading before practicing some of their writing skills. Gaz sat on the edge of your desk as you answered some emails from parents.

You both then heard a child whisper, "Goose, can we swap books? I finished mine." Her friend replied, "Shhh, Maverick I'm almost done." You let out a small laugh, enjoying the subtle nod to the Top Gun movie.

"Goose, you can get another book from the cubby" you said as the other children continued reading. Looking over to Gaz you gave him a smile. “Thanks for doing this, babes,” you said and placed your hand on top of his. The moment was momentarily spoiled when he whispered, “So when are we going to have our army of kids?”

Upon Gaz’s next return from the 141, he found his apartment filled with framed drawings from the children. You had surprised him with it and all of your students were more than happy to participate. Each one of them wrote their names at the bottom along with their call sign. They all had one theme: “Miss Y/N and her husband.”

a purr-fect romance - ghost x veterinarian!

"How's my favorite patient doing?" you ask as you see Ghost with Earl Grey in his arms. Simon had come home just in time to enjoy the beginning of summer and the clear skies. He was dressed in a neutral-colored t-shirt and shorts, enjoying the nice weather you recently had been having. He even had put Earl in a small straw hat you had bought. You loved seeing him look like a little beach-goer.

“I’m doing well, love,” he said and gave you a peck on the cheek. As soon as he got close to you, Earl Grey tried to leap on you. “Well hello to you, Earl” you smiled as Ghost gently handed him to you.

In the last two years, Earl and Simon had become your home. You and Simon owned a flat down the street, a lovely commute for you to the office and a place of solace for him. When you began to furnish your home, you were astonished at how little he had in personal items and how much he had for Earl. Maybe it was due to all this spoiling that Earl had a clear love for Ghost. When he would leave for deployment, Earl would find his way to sneak in between you both in bed. One time Ghost snuck out of bed and was able to capture an image of you sleeping on your stomach with Earl resting on your back. Although you said you looked like a hot mess with your sprawled figure and crazy hair, Ghost treasured the photo and printed out a small copy to keep with him at all times. Despite this domestic life, Ghost would always insist on bringing Earl Grey to your office whenever he was home. It would be easier to just have you bring him in with you for his check-up but you secretly loved seeing your boyfriend in your office.

“Just a check-up and vaccine for us today, Doc” Ghost said as you checked them in. It was later in the afternoon and you had sent your assistants home as the only patient was Earl for the rest of the day. Plus, you knew they would love to enjoy the warm evening around town. “Actually, would you like to see what I do?” you asked. He nodded and you could tell he was curious.

You lead him to one of the rooms as you donned your coat and gloves of your own. You gently placed Earl down and went through the motions, showing Ghost how you typically performed an exam. You let him listen to Earl's heartbeat with your stethoscope and described to him what things to look for when examining his coat, ears, eyes, and mouth.

"Well I'm happy to say, Mr. Riley, that your cat is in perfect health," you smiled at him and you raised your hand in front of Earl to receive a high five. "Now just for that rabies shot," you said and you pulled out the materials from around the office.

As you drew up the vaccine, Ghost entertained Earl with one of the many ribbon teaser toys lying around. You laughed as you saw Earl going crazy for the thing. Finally ready, you let Ghost pet him as you found the best area on Earl's right hind leg to administer. Setting him on his side, your heart warmed hearing him purr gently into Simon's arms.

"Alright, Earl, this will be real quick," you said and you quickly administered the shot. Earl whined and Ghost tried his best, gently saying to him, "It's okay bud, the lovely doc is almost done." With that, you finished and allowed Earl to return to his toys as you cleaned up.

Ghost picked Earl back up and you closed up the office. As you walked home in the balmy night air, Ghost was clearly in a cheery mode. "You're so great with animals, when are we-" he began to joke before you stopped him. "We can think about adopting maybe another kitten. I swear if you make Kyle's joke about having an army of them, then you can live in a house with them while his girlfriend and I live in our clean flat." With that, he laughed and wrapped a free arm around you. You wondered how life could be so perfect. You lived with your soulmate, taking care of an animal who loved you both and got to end the night with long conversations over some tea. You smiled up at him, content with your loving boyfriend and his cat child.

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cityof2morrow · 4 months

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3t2: The Market Basket 001

Published: 1-14-2024 | Updated: N/A SUMMARY Build and buy mode items inspired by The Market Basket, a grocery store from Sims 3: Showtime (EA/Maxis, 2012). This is not an exact conversion. I’ve made several changes and added items based on my own gameplay needs.

DETAILS Requires all EPs/SPs. §100-1000 | Build/Buy Mode All files with “MESH” in their filenames are REQUIRED for all textures/recolors to show properly. This set requires the Repository Pack (Simmons, 2023) and BBNiche1Master (Buggybooz, 2012 – also included in the Repository Pack). You’ll also need one of the following: Shift Everything (Lamare, 2022) OR Object Freedom 1.02 (Fway, 2023).

WARNING: The DiGiMART Grocery Vendor has pulsing, flashing, and glowing light effects. If you are sensitive to visual noise, please download the LIGHT SENSITIVE version of this set. Only use ONE version in-game at a time.

The set includes matching recolors for Poster Pack 001 (Simmons, 2023). ITEMS Billboard (3070 poly, HIGH) Door Frame 001-002 (56-224 poly) Mini Signs 1-2 (92 poly) Single/Double Bollard (60-120 poly) Bulletin Boards 1-4 (18 poly) Shopping Cart (456 poly) Ceiling Lamp (56 poly) Columns (1-Story/2-Story/3-Story) (210-442 poly) Fences 001-002 (Orange/White) (180-315 poly) Garage (Deco) (36 poly) Grocery Display (82 poly) – holds up to 18 nonperishable items. HVAC Units 001-004 (Deco) (18-900 poly) Hanging/Standing Signs 001-002 (26 poly) Store Signs 001-002 (824 poly) Wall Signs 001-002 (18 poly) Rooms 001-002 (Frame/Roof) (672-978 poly) Building Trim (1-Tile/3-Tile) (4 poly) DigiMART Grocery Vendor (72-224 poly) – functional grocery kiosk DOWNLOAD (choose one) REGULAR VERSION (w light effects) from SFS | from MEGA LIGHT SENSITIVE VERSION (no light effects) from SFS | from MEGA SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED Be sure to place door frame 001 and 002 on the same tile. The building frame/roof objects fit 4x18 and 11x24 rooms respectively. Grab them on the front, left tile (see pic).

CREDITS Thanks: UV Mapping Tips (Frac, 2024 via SimCrafters Discord), Visual Noise Feedback (Despondenthottie, 2024). Sources: Any Color You Like (CuriousB, 2010), Bank (TruForm, 2015), BBNiche1Master (BuggyBooz, 2012), Beyno (Korn via BBFonts), EA/Maxis, Great Groceries Display (Balkopat, 2020), Imagery (Freepik, 2023; 2016; 2014; Macrovector, 2020), Lay Me Low – Sims 3t2 ‘Late Night’ Metropolitan Buildings – Part 5 (Misty_Fluff, 2013), 3t2 Market Ads (Amovitam, 2012), Offuturistic Infographic (Freepik), Solar Panel (Autumn Rose, 2020; EA/Maxis, 2020), Supermarket Concepts (Yaun, 2017; McDonald, 2017).

#ts2downloads #ts2cc #sims2cc #sims3t2

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justwriterbritt · 7 months

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#day 2 #morning #autumn #assembly #autumn assembly #church #jesus #facebook #prayer

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minhyeong · 6 months

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WAYV + SIMPLE DATES !

[ kun ]

being pushed by him on the swings at an empty playground after all the kids return home and streets slow down and you can finally have a moment of stillness

wraps his own scarf around you since it's a little chilly in the evening

sways you gently until you're asking for more momentum, but he will never not worry about you falling down so he only puts so much force

sitting in comfortable silence with the occasional creaking of the chains as you inhale the air that smells earthy and sink into the embrace of the autumn breeze

you look back and he smiles, eyes crinkling when your gazes lock, and you suddenly feel like you're eight again with nothing to fear

[ ten ]

wearing matching pajamas and brushing your teeth together after indulging in way too much sugar for the night

he gets even louder and more unhinged than usual when all the sugar in his system hits

your shared playlist is playing in the background, volume turned up loud enough that he has to scream over the music to communicate with you but you both like it that way

laughs at all the foam that sits on your mouth as you brush your teeth when he doesn't look much neater

bumps his shoulder into yours when you make eye contact through the mirror but fakes pain when you do the same back and claims you have to kiss it better

[ winwin ]

dragging him out to grocery shop after you opened his fridge and noticed that there was barely anything edible

pushing the shopping cart side by side with hands resting just close enough on the handle

he gets distracted and sneaks a few packs of junk food into the cart that you side eye because they're not filling, and he definitely tilts his head and gives you puppy eyes for permission to get more ice cream

but also remembers to stock up on your favorite snacks for when you go over

hands you the lightest bag and then tries to carry everything else back into the house at once because two trips are for the weak according to him

[ xiaojun ]

napping at 6am because you stayed up all night pondering life and made sure you had someone (him) to ponder with

doesn't even have to be something deep because he will stay up to debate whether humans have one butt or two

but now you both look like zombies and have eye bags that sink all the way down to your cheekbones, so you finally put the debate aside for a moment and crawl into bed

he sets the alarm for 8am and giggles almost hysterically for a second out of disbelief because did you two really just forgo sleep to talk about butts

tenderly interlocks his fingers with yours before he shuts his eyes and mumbles that he's definitely right about the debate

[ hendery ]

assembling furniture together after a spontaneous trip to ikea that resulted in bringing home a shelf that you definitely didn't need but wanted regardless

unboxing takes an hour because he got distracted by the bubble wrap and challenged you to see who could pop them all quicker

purposely rolls up his sleeve and unnecessarily flexes his arms when he's using the screwdriver and sends you a wink that has you fake gagging

is actually very focused on trying to decipher the instructions when you both finally get to work

proudly moves the finished product to the place you want it and tells you to put a framed photo of him on the shelf so everyone who visits can see his beautiful face

[ yangyang ]

watching a romantic comedy movie where the characters are dancing in the rain and suddenly he's pulling you off the couch so you can do the same on your small balcony

the downpour is sharp and almost feels as if it's trying to pierce through your skin that grows colder by the minute

it's a little awkward at first and you have no idea what you're supposed to do, but he rubs the rain out of your eyes and tugs you close

you forget about the cold rain when he dramatically twirls and dips you, and you erupt into a fit of giggles as the thrill hits you

makes sure to dry your hair with a towel after you take a warm shower and kisses the crown of your head

#nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv fluff #kun scenarios #ten scenarios #winwin scenarios #xiaojun scenarios #hendery scenarios #yangyang scenarios #i made myself sad with kun's

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treason-and-plot · 5 months

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[previous]

The school principal, Mrs Jevtic, calls a special assembly mid-morning. Saffron has been avoiding Connor since their exchange in the carpark, nauseous with apprehension about what he might have witnessed between she and Liam. Outwardly though she maintains her trademark icy reserve, and barely smiles when Connor takes the seat next to hers in the assembly hall. Connor doesn’t smile at her either but he does mutter “Hey.” “Hey,” she says, staring straight ahead. Mrs Jevtic coughs and adjusts the microphone, waiting for the room to settle.

“Good morning, everyone,” she says. Saffron digs her fingernails into her knee.

“I’ve called this special assembly to share with you some very sad and unfortunate news,“ Mrs Jevtic continues. She pauses for effect. “Earlier this morning the wife of one of our valued staff members, Mr McFarlane, met with a terrible accident and had to be taken to the ER. Her condition has been described as serious. Understandably Mr McFarlane will be taking an indefinite amount of leave, effective from today. I will be advertising for a replacement for him, but in the meantime please join me in prayer for the recovery of his wife.”

Saffron can see Connor staring at her from the corner of her eye. She digs her nails deeper.

”Dear Lord,” intones Mrs Jevtic, her voice thick with emotion, “Please comfort Mr McFarlane and his wife and bring them both peace and healing…“

“Saffron, we need to talk,“ Connor whispers to her. She turns her head and looks at him, and the expression on his face makes the edges of her heart curl up like a fallen autumn leaf.

#Saffron #Connor #Mrs Jevtic #back to Bridgeport #5 years later

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rustedhearts · 9 months

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melancholy (steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: autumns with steve were distinctly blue and melancholy.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ main masterlist

tags: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, very short, very sad. more of a ficlet.

✶ recommended listening: (dream) by salvia palth & both sides now by joni mitchell

small town connecticut. october 1991.

A wave of thunder roared through the bedroom. A lick of lightning, a slash of white light, shuttered over the bedspread. From the window, left open a crack, a gust of cool air howled through. Beneath the blankets, your body gave a shiver—reaching to pull the cotton shields over your head.

"Honey," he called from somewhere under the blankets. "You left the window open again."

Nose buried in the down feathers of your pillow, you hummed absently. Dug in a little further. Felt the weight of his hand over your waist, slipping through the groove. Expected, comforting, welcome. Against the splashing patters of rain, the whooshing shuffle of his body against the sheets. The damp grass and soiled leaves, the earthen concoction of soil and rain—interrupted by his vetiver musk and a hint of something like bonfire smoke, all toasted to warmth by sleep.

His hair, always softer than yours, hazelnut-brown and growing past his ears, glided against your cheek. As did his mouth, grazing like seeking sustenance in the dark—until the familiar cushion of your mouth, roughened by the briskness of autumn, touched his own. He pressed firmly, bottom lip jutting between your own, tongue lazily sweeping in hello. He kissed until you rolled away from the pillow, and into him.

When he was satisfied with the taste of you on his mouth, he pulled away and shuffled against the mattress. "I'll close it."

His figure, tall and lean, scarcely clothed in dark colors, moved through the blueness of the room. A deep, indigo blue—Joni Mitchell blue, melancholic blue, a blue only October allowed. When he turned in the blue light, streaked over his face paled by the colder months, he was grinning.

"Morning," he soothed.

Partially concealed by the pile of fabrics and colors that made up your bed, he caught only the raise of your brows and crinkle of your eyes—but he knew you were smiling, too.

"Morning, honey."

Four feet—two bare, two flannel-plaid-clad—padded over the hardwood. Wandered over the cold bathroom tile, stained with a rouge mistake near the sink. Shuffled into the kitchen, stopping before the coffee maker to fumble through caffeine assembly. Pattered to the toaster, where two pieces of wheat toast came away crisp and black. Tapped a mindless beat before the stove, where four eggs fried up still runny.

They came together, half socked and half bare, at the small, round wooden table. Toes knocking, ankles sliding, one pair warming the other's foolish forgetfulness as the apartment collected a sharp chill. He burnt the toast and you undercooked the eggs, but neither said a word as forks shoveled and scraped until the dishware was clean.

"You ready to go?" he asked you over the rim of his coffee mug, oatmeal-colored and speckled—purchased at Goodwill for 99 cents five Octobers ago.

You swallowed down your last charcoal bite of crunchy bread. "Almost. Have to do some cleaning up."

You cleared the table, wiped it clean with a damp rag. The sink freed of dishes, the counter clear of crumbs. The windows greyed with the light of storm clouds. It wouldn't let up today. Over the patter of rain, his soft clattering in the bedroom sounded like music. Flipping through records, fluttering through books, ghosting through hangers, spritzing cologne from a pressurized can. He came through the kitchen in a navy blue knitted sweater, dark and padded around his arms; a pair of Levis hugged his backside just perfectly.

As you pulled the rubber dish gloves from your hands, snapping and squeaking with sudsy water, he watched, leaning against the fridge. The watch on his wrist caught a streak of silvery light.

"Ready now?"

You padded over, perching on tip-toes to kiss his chin. Arms winding around his torso, breath taking him and all his cleanness in. "Almost. Shower first."

The hiss of the shower stream convoluted with the rain, melding together until one was difficult to discern from the other. But over the stomp of water, on the other side of the tiled wall and through the whiteness of the shower curtain, his maneuvering persisted. Rummaging and rumbling, drawers rolling closed, hands patting pillows, perfume bottles being straightened after being knocked down by hands moving too quick to slow down.

Wrapped in just a pale, fluffy pink towel, dripping beads of warm water across the floor, emitting steam from a stream set too high on hot—he watched you from the sofa, a book perched between his hands, as you strode into the closet. Flicked through hangers, lips pursing and nose scrunching at every distasteful option.

He placed his book face-down against the tattered cushion of the couch before returning to the bedroom. The top drawer of the dresser hummed open, clunked back closed.

"Here, honey," he cooed, holding out a bundle of deep green wool.

It smelled like him as it went over your head. It felt like being held beneath the blinding white and neon red of a movie theater sign on a cold November night while you waited for your friends. It felt like curling up on the couch when the days were too long, and the warmest, coziest place in the world was his lap, pressed against his thigh. It felt like the first time he met your parents at Thanksgiving dinner, full of bloated bellies and the stench of meat clinging to your hair and his hands for hours. The candied sweetness of a day through town when you were supposed to be at college, but the weather was too brisk and the trees were too vibrant to waste, and his propositions were not easily ignored.

The jeans were yours, the boots you pulled on, too—but the socks stuffed beneath the stiff leather were his. Plucked from his drawer when he wandered back to the living room to his book. Unfurled from their rumpled ball, plucked free of hair and lint, squished down at the calves to fit snugly around your ankles.

Your perfume and his cologne came to a symphony of scents that you only associated with home. The blueness of the living room deepened in all your stalling, and when you came to stand in the doorway, dressed in half his clothes, an ache like hunger festered in your chest.

He smiled again, overwhelmed with adoration, and snapped his book shut. "Ready now?"

You nodded. He stood, the old springs of the cushion weeping with relief of removed weight. His boots clunked over the carpet, flat and thin and found on the side of the road in a pile of garbage. A road trip to New York in the dead of summer.

He placed his hands on your cheeks and pulled you close. In the center of the living room, as the rain trickled down the windowsill and filled the room with earthen sour, he kissed you. Sweet, tender, full of aching mouths like all his kisses were. His slender, pulsing fingers buried their way into the hair gathered at the nape of your neck; his thumbs pressed at the underside of your jaw, right where your heart sang just for him. The melody in your bones swept into a crescendo until he pulled away.

Even then, under his hazel-speckled eyes and long, straight-bridged nose, it couldn't stop crying for him.

"Come on," he murmured, a softness gracing his face. "It's time."

You kept the radio off in the car, let the ping of rain on the windshield soothe the drive. His hand cupped over your denim thigh, tapping aimlessly at the occasional stoplight. And the blueness gathered in the car, too. A deep, bruised blue that curdled your blood like spoiled milk. A blue that felt like drowning. A blue that burned if you peered for too long, like the hottest flame on a gas stove burner.

The tires crunched over gravel and flattened down slick grass. Slipped through the sludge and soup of mud. You carefully put the gear in park when you reached the edge of the road. The engine dinged as your seatbelt slipped back against the door, and ceased only when you yanked the keys from the ignition to slip them in your pocket. In the backseat, he left a sturdy raincoat for days like today. You pulled it over your head and zipped it to your chin before stepping out.

The walk was just down the hill and up another to the right. Winding through grey stone monuments, careful of crushing windblown and rain-wilted flowers and tokens of affection as you went. Hands tucked into the warmth and dryness of your pockets, you watched your feet collect wet soil and mark their way through a familiar path. The rain began to slant sideways, beating against the canvas of your raincoat and covered ears with gentle fury.

And despite the wetness and the messiness of the earth, you sank down to the ground when you reached the end of your journey. Flat on your butt, legs tucked into each other with every intention to stay. From your pocket, a tightly-closed silver thermos of steaming coffee, swiped on the way out of the house.

You placed it on the gleaming silver stone and swiped away the blades of grass and yellow leaves that came to say hello.

"I made it, Stevie," you told him, sighing into the cold.

Thunder grumbled through the clouds, married with another lick of white lightning. You smiled, easing into the wisps of wind seeping through the raincoat hood. Coldness kissed your cheeks and numbed your nose. The scent of him under your coat felt as precious and rare and holy as he did when he was still around.

Though Steve said his goodbye, you'd never stop coming to say your hellos.

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milkweedman · 7 months

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NEED TO MAKE RENT SALE

As you may have seen I'm selling some of my handspun yarn, along with some fleece, batts, rolags, and other odds and ends. I'm really short on rent this month, largely due to having so many flare up days that working was almost impossible. So, I'm selling some of my work in the hopes that I can still make rent somehow. I need over $500.

Im also linking to my kofi. If you don't wish to buy anything but still want to help me make rent--which I would appreciate so much <3

I'll be updating this post as I sell things so please make sure to click back to my original post to check if it's still available. First come first serve. Unless otherwise stated, all shipping is $5 USD to within the USA. If you're outside of the USA please let me know--shipping will likely be between $30-50 USD depending on to where, but I am happy to work with you if you're interested.

PLEASE DM ME IF YOU WANT TO BUY SOMETHING <3

YARNS (please ignore the slips of paper, ive given everything a nice label now)

A: 572 yards/ 480 meters. 5.75 oz/ 165 grams. 2 ply, approximately DK weight. Silk and merino blend assembled by myself. There are stripes of different greens which are arranged to be bigger at one end than the other, so a triangle shawl (working from the correct end of yarn) will have stripes that are more or less even instead of getting thicker near the narrow end of the shawl. I don't know how noticeable the effect will be, though. Silky soft and shines beautifully in the sun. $100 USD or best offer.

B: 175 yards/160 meters. 2 oz/ 57 grams. 2 ply, light fingering weight to sport weight. Luxury blend of alpaca, cormo, debouillet, silk, silk noil, angora, and cashmere. Very textured due to how I plied it and some noils, but also extremely soft and with lovely drape. Next to skin soft. $60 USD or best offer. SOLD

C: 176 yards/160 meters. 2.25 oz/64 grams. 2 ply, light worsted. Merino, silk, silk noil, angora, and mystery wool blend. Next to skin soft, lots of different colors, and good drape. $50 USD or best offer. SOLD

D: 152 yards/130 meters. 2 oz/57 grams. 3 ply, light worsted. Cormo, alpaca, and merino blend. This yarn was arranged into a stripey gradient--white stripes separating a light purple to dark purple gradient. 3 ply. Incredibly soft--would be perfect for a hat or cowl. $55 USD or best offer.

E: 100 yards/91 meters. 2.5 oz/71 grams. Traditional 3 ply, aran/bulky weight. Romney 3 ply. Durable, squishy, and warm, but not particularly soft. Would make a great hat or gloves. $35 USD or best offer SOLD

F: 140 yards/128 meters. 1.75 oz/50 grams. Traditional 3 ply, fingering weight. Beautiful BFL yarn in autumn colors. Due to the traditional 3 ply the colors constantly shift and change. Very soft and with good drape. $45 USD or best offer. SOLD

G: 325 yards/300 meters. 4 oz/115 grams. 2 ply, fingering weight. Wool, silk, silk noil, alpaca, and Angelina blend. Very textured but soft and drapey. $80 USD or best offer.

H: 166 yards/145 meters. 2 oz/57 grams. 2 ply worsted weight. Targhee, BFL, Angelina blend. Incredibly soft and drapey. Fuzzy and lightly underplied for maximum softness (so a little delicate). Next to skin quality. $45 USD or best offer.

(I'll accept the highest offer I get in a timely manner, so if you really want something and think other people also want to buy it, you can offer more to potentially guarantee you get it. Or offer less, and get it for cheaper if nobody else wants it. Although I wont accept very low offers, sorry.)

BATTS AND ROLAGS. These all contain several large handfuls of milkweed floss, because why not. Very fun and soft to spin.

A. 0.75 oz/21 grams. Romney, BFL, silk, bamboo, Targhee, milkweed floss. Somewhat soft, would be very soft if plied with a fine fiber. Lots of purples and blues, with small amounts of rainbow. Should yield a heathered, smooth yarn except for bumps of milkweed floss. $15 USD or best offer. SOLD

B. 0.75 ounces/21 grams. Naturally dyed Shetland combing waste (yellow), BFL, silk merino, milkweed floss. Many different colors arranged in stripes--yellow and blue primarily. Should yield a textured yarn due to the combing waste, but also lofty and colorful. Fairly soft and very squishy. $15 USD or best offer.

C: 0.5 oz/14 grams. Tussah silk, BFL, merino, merino combing waste, milkweed floss. Very soft. Majority tussah silk which is charcoal black. The other colors are dark purple, a few streaks of red, and the shining white from the milkweed floss. Should spin up to a fine and soft yarn. I am also able to make more of these, which would be the same weight and price and matching the original as closely as possible. Let me know if you want several. $12 USD or best offer. SOLD -- but i can make more, if youre interested !

D: 0.5 oz/14 grams. Merino combing waste, merino, BFL, silk, milkweed floss. Buttery soft. Mostly dark brown with purple, blue, and white streaks. I can make several identical ones if desired, for the same price each. $12 USD or best offer. SOLD -- but i can more, if you're interested !

E: 0.5 oz/14 grams. BFL merino, mystery wool and milkweed floss blend. This has stripes of purple and blue, suspended a squishy mystery combing waste. Should yield a fine but squishy yarn. $10 USD or best offer. SOLD

If I sell all or most of these I will make some more !

FLEECE. I am selling by the ounce (28 grams). I'm also willing to process these into fluffy hand carded rolags or fine hand combed top as desired, which will cost extra depending on how difficult the fiber is to process.

A. Jacob lambswool. Very soft but lots of large vm (so, easy to pick out) and nepps/noils. Those will stay in the fiber unless combed, so this tends to produce a very soft, bumpy yarn. I love this fleece but I just can't seem to use it up. Primarily dark brown, but I also have some white and mixed as well. I have about 8 ounces. Washed but still a tiny bit greasy (just to my preference). $3 an ounce.

B: Rambouillet. I have almost a pound of this stuff. Incredibly buttery soft. Like touching seafoam. But it has a ton of fine VM, so it can only be cleaned either lock by lock on hand cards or combed. I am willing to clean it for you. Takes a long time to get into a spinnable state but it is SO worth it. $2 an ounce. SOLD

C: Breed unknown. Some sections are salmon pink, others closer to hot pink. Not much vm, can be combed open lock by lock on hand cards or combed into top. Yields a silky, strong, hairy yarn. Willing to process for you (this would be one of the cheaper ones to do, it's very easy). I have 5 ounces. $2 an ounce. SOLD

D & E: These are both rya lambswool, naturally dyed with yellow onion skin (the bright yellow one with alum, the copper one with copper). Very soft and silky, spins up to a surprisingly robust yarn. Absolute treat to work with. Some vm but the nature of this fleece causes the vm to fall out pretty easily. I have about a pound total. Will process for you. Washed and dyed by myself. $5 an ounce. D IS SOLD, E IS STILL AVAILABLE

F: Sunshine Shetland. Very soft and fine. Naturally dyed, again with onion skins. The tips are somewhat felted and need to be pulled off, which is quick and easy. If combed lock by lock and then spun that way you can get a subtle gradient of orange to yellow with each lock... absolutely gorgeous. Will process for you. I have about 10 ounces. Washed and dyed by myself. $5 per ounce. SOLD

G: Red Hampshire. Not neon red like in the picture, more of a brick red. Very soft and foamy. Some vm. Easy to process on hand cards by combing lock by lock or turning into a rolag. Washed and dyed (using food coloring) by myself. I only have an ounce and a quarter--which is $6 for all of it. SOLD

COMBING WASTE GRAB BAGS

These are 1 ounce bags of primarily combing waste (so, short fibers and likely some vm) along with other interesting scrap such as mohair locks, colorful merino, and sometimes the occasional single rolag. Lots of the colors are naturally dyed by myself. Great for turning into rolags or using for batt fodder. These are $5 USD if you're buying more than one item (that could be yarn, another grab bag, some fleece, etc) or $10 USD each if you are only buying a single grab bag.

SPINDLES

Lastly, I'm also selling some spindles. A-C are whittled and decorated by myself. D is a beautiful Dealgan which I never could figure out how to use.

A. Supported spindle carved from a fruit tree. I gave it a steeple shape, which does make it slow to spin with. Really enjoyable for special spins that you want to do slowly and thoughtfully. Small spindle, about the length of my hand. $55 USD or best offer.

B. Onion dome supported spindle. Very light for its size, so it can hold a decent cop on it. Small spindle--about the length of my hand. $50 USD or best offer. SOLD ! thank you 🩵🩵🩵

C: Larch spindle. This one has lots of beautiful spalting, as well as being woodburned. Also the length of my hand. Has a very distinct feel to it, sort of in an alive way. $90 USD or best offer.

D: Lightning Dealgan. I got it for $50 and it's basically unused, so reselling for $50 USD. Very heavy and smooth.

And thats it ! If you don't want to buy anything but still wish to help me make rent, you can also donate to my kofi, which would mean the world to me <3

#destash #handspun yarn #wool fleece #natural dyeing #supported spindle #mutual aid

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