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aweina · 6 months

Note

HI CAN I REQUEST MIKE SCHMIDT X FEM READER?? MAYBE SOME FLUFF I JUST- UGH I NEED HIM. anyways. PLEASE? THANKS! REMEMBER TO HYDRATE!

ᥫ᭡. winter heart , mike schmidt ( fluff )

you and me, hugging ? if you want …

tags fem + gn reader. pining. friends to ( redacted ). mike tries to be a meanie but he can’t. special abby cameo.

“cold?”

mike quirks a brow at your shivering form, the lack of warm layers and no sign of any other winter accessory made him visibly cringe.

“o-obviously.” your teeth clattered with heavy pronunciation, clinging to yourself for some ounce of warmth. “t-the forecast are liars, i’ll never trust them a-again.”

he huffs a laugh at your retort, his breath condensing into the winter air — swirling aimlessly into the filtered blue atmosphere. mike was extremely amused, he could tell you that. during the coldest seasons, you decided to only wear a sleeved shirt constructed with the thinnest fabric he’s ever seen.

you play dumb games, you win stupid prizes. he believes wholeheartedly.

at the same time, he grew concerned. your reddened nose sniffled in the cold air, shakily clinging onto your shirt like it could get any warmer. your brows were furrowed in discomfort, the moisture of your lips stolen by the crisp breeze. even in this condition, you stayed with him to watch abby — who was bustling in the frozen playground with her new friends.

instinctively, mike tugs down the zipper of his oversized fleece hoodie — the bulky layers he wore combating the bitter cold. he turns to your shivering form, suddenly feeling shy about his decision, but seeing you in such a vulnerable state for his own sake made him feel guilty. mike bites back a self-encouraging sigh, shaking his head in an attempt to get rid of the fluttering feeling inside his core. with his gloved hands snug in his pockets, he widens his arms to open his furry jacket — coughing dumbly to catch your attention.

you turned to him and tilted your head in confusion, darting your eyes towards his flushed face to the baggy graphic t-shirt and the oversized jacket that cling to his body, somehow it felt like a mockery to your cold state.

“haha … nice jacket, i know you’re much more warmer and smarter than me. you don’t have to rub it in.” you jested through a freezing hiss, rolling your eyes at his attempt to push your buttons.

“w-what? wait no! just come here, please.” his voice sounded a bit more desperate than he intended it to be, but he usually doesn’t offer this treatment to anybody.

still confused, you shuffled towards him with caution. you silently gasped when you got closer, feeling the comforting warmth radiating off his body.

mike gulps nervously, feeling your panting chest grazing his. it was a strange feeling, how in sync your heartbeats were — they danced in the rhyme together, the tempo seemed to quicken as you approached him closer and closer. finally, he finds the courage to wrap his fleece jacket around your quivering body, hesitantly hugging you through the thick fabric.

your eyes widen in realization, he’s hugging you. mike schmidt is hugging you. he felt so warm and cuddly, all the lousy layers of old t-shirts he forced himself to wear felt like laying on soft pillows. the fur threaded in his jacket brushed its warmth against your frozen skin. but the thing making you burn up was the fact you’re so close to mike, shyly wrapping your arms around his frame while your head is nearly tucked into the nape of his neck — but you hesitated to go any further.

“are you warm?” mike’s voice was gentle in your ear, the flush of his body melted your bitter coldness in an instant.

you slightly nodded, still a little disoriented from this predicament.

feeling more comfortable, mike takes his gloved hand out of his pocket, assuring your stiffness as he petted your head, guiding you to rest in the nape of his neck. his warm pulse tapped softly against your forehead. you could hear his life line — every breath he takes. this felt like heaven, being held in mike’s arms. then he’s not protesting, his melting grip was tighter — protective like someone could snatch you away from his arms. he loved the way you smelled, delicate perfume and fresh laundry. if he could keep this close and take in your scent, he would if it wasn’t so creepy for him to do.

there was a comfortable silence between the two of you. the childlike chants and laughter faded into the background, the bitter cold didn’t feel so bad anymore. it felt like your hearts were clinging onto each other, feeding the aching starvation of touch and warmth. he needed this, you needed it too.

“are you guys finally dating now?”

a youthful voice forced you both out of a love trance, eyes widened and heads snapped towards the smaller figure. it was abby, a huge grin on her flushed face — half covered with a comically large knitted scarf.

“abby … don’t.” mike winced at her bluntness, but he still held you in a warm embrace.

you allowed him to cling onto you, equally flustered at her words but much more comfortable, even playful at the weird circumstances.

“i’m still patiently waiting for your brother to ask me out.” you teased the younger schmidt, earning an excited giggle and an exasperated sigh from the older schmidt.

maybe he should’ve just offered you his jacket if you were going to embarrass him in front of his younger sister.

add. note : hope you enjoyed some fluff anon !! and thank you, stay hydrated too because we’re all thirsty for grumpy security guard mikey ㅜ ㅜ

#.୨୧ ina writes #.purple mark #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf movie x reader #fnaf movie #fnaf x reader #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson

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munson-blurbs · 5 months

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Day 1 of TUI-Mas

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unprotected p in v, breeding kink and lots of it, fingering, oral (f! receiving)

WC: 2k

Divider credit to @saradika

October 1998

Your head rests on Eddie’s thigh, cheek pressed against the cotton sweatpants serving as his pajamas. His fingertips dance along your shoulder in comforting circles, the other hand digging into a bag of peanut M&Ms and dropping several into his mouth at once.

Harris is sleeping in bed, his little eyes having drifted closed halfway through his second bedtime story. You’d laughed softly, kissed his forehead, and closed the door as quietly as you could.

On the TV screen, Phoebe Buffay prepares to give birth to triplets while Joey’s learned that his sympathy pains are actually kidney stones.

The candy shell crunching ceases as Eddie speaks over the characters’ dialogue. “You ever think about that?” he asks, jerking his chin towards the monitor.

“Having three babies at once?” You wrinkle your nose, tugging the fleece blanket up a bit higher. You adjust your position so you can see his chocolate-smudged lips. “Only in my nightmares.”

Eddie laughs, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his doe eyes. “N-No, just, like…having a baby?” His front teeth scrape his lower lip nervously while he awaits your response.

You shrug. “Yeah, I mean, I definitely want to have kids with you. And I know Harris is dying for a sibling to play with,” you add teasingly, though your words are true. He’d come home from school last week claiming that his friend Joshua’s mommy was having another baby, lamenting that it wasn’t fair because Joshua already had a sister. “I can’t wait to add some more Munsons to our little family.”

“Okay, yeah,” Eddie nods, swallowing thickly. “So, um, what exactly are we waiting for?”

The question makes you sit up, pushing yourself with your palms, so you can look him in the eyes. “We’ve only been married for a few months…” you trail off, unsure what to say next, but it doesn’t matter because Eddie leans in and silences you with his lips on yours. Tiny, passionate kisses, his smile rendering him unable to draw them out longer.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” he murmurs, nose gently bumping yours. Four fingers are tucked behind your ear, his thumb delicately grazing your cheek. “There’s no rush, ‘kay? No Baby Munsons until you’re totally on board.”

“What if I’m ready, too?” You kiss him, body buzzing with nerves just from having this conversation. An excited giggle slips out, and you drape your arms over his shoulder to straddle his waist. “What if I want to start trying?”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs; he swears he’s hit the jackpot with you. “Then I say…to hell with those pesky birth control pills.” He kisses you again, peppering them all over your face and neck. “C’mon, Sweetheart. Let’s make a baby.”

It’s a few weeks later when Eddie breezes through the apartment door after work, kicking off his Reeboks in the general direction of the hall closet. His weary expression shifts to a joyous one when he sees you walk out of the bedroom with a knowing grin on your face.

“What’s that little smirk for, hmm?” he teases, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you towards him. An autumn chill sticks to his leather jacket; you shiver as the cold fabric brushes your bare arms. “And where’s the other troublemaker?”

“Harris is at Wayne’s for the night,” you tell him, stepping back slightly and briefly lacing your fingers with his before grabbing something from the back pocket of the jeans you immediately changed into after work. “This little line means that I’m currently ovulating,” you quickly explain, not wanting him to confuse it with another important test.

Eddie’s grin could split his cheeks in half. “So…so that means…” his eyes shine bright with anticipation. “It’s baby-making time?”

You giggle at his phrasing. “Yes, Eddie,” you confirm through peals of laughter. “It’s baby-making time.”

Eddie’s lips crash onto yours in an instant. He groans into the kiss, hands instinctively grabbing your ass to pull you closer. Your own fingers grasp his jacket by the zipper teeth, tugging it off of his body and letting it fall to the floor unceremoniously. His hands snake underneath your sweater, eyes widening when he touches supple skin rather than the underwire of a bra.

“Mhm,” you bite your lower lip and nod, gasps of pleasure caught in your throat as his thumbs brush against your nipples, giving them a small tweak. He grins at your reaction, more than satisfied to be catching you off-guard.

“Y’know,” he muses, not straying from your breasts, “I won’t be able to be so rough with ‘em once I knock you up. They’ll be extra sensitive, and I gotta take care of my girl.” The sweater is a hindrance, burying the treasure he so desperately desires, so you shed it without a second thought.

He stares at your bare torso for a moment, enthralled with your body even after all this time. Like a vampire lusting for blood, his teeth sink just below your areola, nipping and sucking sloppily until the underside of your breast is dripping with his saliva. “C’mere,” he growls, taking a breath and leading you into the bedroom.

You’ve never seen Eddie this hungry for you; his lips and tongue and hands trailing along your curves and leaving goosebumps in their path. It’s as though he can’t decide where to touch you and with what.

All articles of clothing–both yours and his–are long gone by the time your bodies tangle in the bedsheets. The only word you can manage is his name, so you whisper it over and over again.

Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.

His body towers over yours, middle finger gliding up and down your folds, gathering your slick and rubbing deliberate circles on your clit. Your trembling legs fuel his own passion, his erection flush against his tummy and leaking pre-cum.

“You need me inside you, Sweetheart?” Eddie coos, letting his finger drift down towards your wanting hole. When you nod pathetically, unable to string together a sentence, he laughs. “I’d normally make you beg, but seeing as you’re gonna be carrying my baby, I’ll let it slide.” He lays down, hissing at the glorious pressure against his cock. “In fact, I’m gonna make sure my girl gets everything she needs tonight.”

Soft lips wrap around your swollen bud while his middle and ring fingers stretch you deliciously. You buck your hips, using his face to draw you towards what you suspect will be your first of multiple orgasms.

The only sound lewder than your wanton moans is the schlick of his fingers pulsing in and out, soaked with your arousal. You let yourself float away, relishing in the comfort of his control.

“F-Fuck, Eddie…” you sputter, arching your back and hooking your grasp into his curls. He smiles against your pussy as you clench around his fingers.

“Thassit, honey.” He breaks his rhythm for a split second to encourage you, resuming his pace like he’d never stopped. Maybe it stems from his musical prowess, or maybe he simply knows your body that well. You love this man, and you swear you’ll do anything to give him a baby.

You come undone moments later, taking everything you need without hesitation. Eddie lowers you from the high and kisses down your thighs, your arousal smeared on his pursed lips.

“Need you to do me a favor,” he says, shifting his body so his eyes gaze directly into yours, pupils blown out with lust. “Need you to bend your legs and hold onto your knees. Can you do that for me, Sweetheart?”

You nod, bringing your knees to your chest and hugging them tight. Eddie’s breath hitches, taking in the view of you, glistening and on display just for him.

“Fuckin’...perfect…” he groans, running his hardened length along you, slowly pushing in. “Gettin’ to watch your pretty pussy cream my cock…shit…’s my favorite fuckin’ sight, I swear.” He grips your hips so tightly that it pinches a bit, pain indistinguishable from pleasure.

He’s entranced in a way you haven’t seen before, despite the multitude of times he’s already had you in this position. Your eyes fill with emotion when the realization hits: you and Eddie could make a baby right now. A little being that’s half-him and half-you.

“‘S everything okay?” he asks, one hand moving from your waist to gently brush away a rogue tear slipping down your cheek.

“Mhm,” you answer, laughing and crying at the same time. “I’m just really happy that this is for real. No more pretending; we’re actually doing this to expand our family.”

Eddie swoops down to kiss you, a few soft pecks punctuated with a long, intimate embrace. “I love you so much.” He says it as a promise, not a simple statement. “You’re mine and I’m yours, and I never want you to forget that.” He resumes thrusting, pulling almost all the way out and leaving just the tip inside you, before sinking back in. The movement draws a whine from deep within you, and he wears it as a badge of honor. “That’s my girl, my sweet girl, gonna have my baby.”

Sweat trickles down the bridge of his nose and drips onto your chest between your breasts. He bites his lip in determination. “Shit, ‘m close already,” he mumbles, smiling as he adds, “kinda wish I didn’t have to cum so we could stay like this, but, uh, that would defeat the purpose, huh?”

Your eyes crinkle at the corners as you giggle, which only further spurs him on. “You get tighter when you laugh, fuck, babe.” But he’s laughing with you, stopping for a second to get his bearings. “I gotta stay focused! Trying to make a baby over here!” His palms flex on your knees before gripping them again.

“I’m sorry!” You’re not, and neither is he, the two of you soaking in the comfort of being with the person you trust completely and love wholeheartedly.

“Okay, okay,” he says, wiping perspiration from his brows with the back of his hand. “Let’s get back on track.” His thrusts resume slowly as he once again grows harder within your walls, gradually quickening in pace.

Everything is overwhelming; the way he feels inside you, the sweetly possessive hold he has on his legs, the unexpected comedic interlude, the potential to create a new life. Passion sweeps you up into its embrace and you come with a strained cry of your husband’s name.

“Want your baby, Eddie. Please.”

Eddie’s brown eyes shine at your desperate plea. He nears his own climax, hair sticking to his forehead and his guitar pick necklace thumping against his chest. “‘M right there, Sweetheart; you’re milking my cock so good.” His biceps tremble as he gives a final few pistons of his hips, spilling into you harder than he ever has before. “Fuck, gonna give you a baby, take it.”

You shiver when he growls the last two words, savoring the movements until they abruptly stop. With panting breaths, Eddie slides out of you.

“Don’t move,” he gently commands, holding up one finger and using the other hand to hold his softening dick. He scrambles for a free pillow and tucks it underneath your hips. “Helps ‘em swim faster,” he sheepishly explains. “Or, like, hit their target a little better.”

“Hit their target?” You ask through a bemused grin. “Is that the proper medical terminology?”

Eddie rolls his eyes playfully, returning to the bed and nuzzling into you. His frizzy curls tickle your chin when he rests his head on top of one breast. You both lay in comfortable silence for a few minutes before he speaks again.

“Can’t wait to see if it worked,” he muses while fighting a yawn. “Whatever happens, it felt special, y’know?”

You know. Your hand flutters over your abdomen; Eddie drapes his over yours soon after. The two of you fall asleep wrapped up in one another and an intoxicating blanket of hope.

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui #smut

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acourtofmenandthirst · 6 months

Text

Coming Home

Eris x Reader, taking care of him after battle

Warnings: Illusion to smut for one sentence, war but nondescript

Word Count: 3.1K (not proofread)

The kettle screamed in the kitchen, the hot water begging to be removed from the fire and poured alongside fresh herbs and chamomile. You quickly set your book aside, careful to tuck a corner of your soft blanket between the pages before pulling yourself from the warm corner of the sofa. Bitter cold nipped at your bare feet as you skipped across the uneven floorboards, creaking at each step. You crossed your arms across your chest, the thick brown sweater tucked between your arms and over your neck.

Your boyfriend had a tendency to wear turtlenecks, preferring to trade his formal jackets with stiff collars for the comfortable hand knitted sweaters. He also had a tendency to leave them at your house.

You smiled at the memory, how the male would reluctantly crawl from your bed, grumbling something about the cold weather, before retracing his steps from the previous night, plucking up each article of clothing you’d thrown somewhere across the room. He’d have a multitude of items, usually a soft linen shirt, followed by a more stiff white button down, a vest maybe, a sweater, then the final layer: a tailored coat. He would throw you the sweater - only the softest, thickest material for the High Lord’s son - after he’d seen you curl up in the fleece sheets, wrapping them around yourself as you sleepily gazed over at him. He’d always pair the action with a small smile or a wink, to which you couldn’t stifle your grin. It was a silent battle between the two of you: whether he’d ever leave your home with all of his clothes, but it was one that he would happily lose, especially if he got to spend the morning making you breakfast while you sat on the counter all curled up in his sweater - it was his favorite sight.

You poured the steaming water over the leaves and flowers, silencing the noise that pierced your small home. You’d gotten a few complaints from your neighbors, when you’d left the kettle over the fire just a bit too long this late into the evening. Sometimes you’d just be too enthralled in your book, unable to stop yourself in the middle of the paragraph to head to the kitchen. Other times, you abandoned the kettle, the mere thought of tea long forgotten as the male in your arms kissed all down your neck.

The steam swirled around the rim of the mug as you grabbed the handle and carefully trudged back to the couch. After setting the cup on the small table beside you, you sat back between the plush cushions and curled your legs into you, tucked safely under the thick fabric of the male’s sweater. You threw the blanket over yourself for good measure, picking up your book with the blanket inside, and continued reading.

It was late, but by no means early morning yet, and sleep had evaded you. Despite countless cups of tea and tossing and turning in your bed for hours, you couldn’t manage one minute of shut eye; so, you’d given up completely and ventured to the living room to finish your novel. It was a tale of romance, a forbidden love between a stable boy and the princess - cheesy, no doubt, but it was one that made a smile cross your lips, a glimpse into your own relationship, however the roles reversed. But your heart swelled, as true love always found a way, the feeling almost too similar to how your own relationship had persisted regardless of the many obstacles in your way.

A harsh sigh left your lips as your ears perked up at the sound outside your front door. The clatter of metal, more than likely a candle holder, accompanied by a knock - one that no doubt belonged to your old neighbor, Mrs. Brittel, who had to pay you a visit at the slightest of disturbances. You groaned as you heaved yourself from the sofa, once again placing your book on the soft cushions.

Your eyes flitted to the clock on the fireplace mantle: nearly half past eleven; not too late to be up, but a decent enough excuse to answer the door in such an unbecoming state. You turned the lock, opening the heavy wooden door just a crack before poking your head through. A prickly greeting was already positioned at your lips, but your jaw fell open at the sight you were met with.

The male was tall, looming over you as the door fell open, your hands dropping to your sides. His helmet covered his fiery hair, though tufts of dark red curled around the edges of the metal. Silver adorned his body, a scuffed breastplate and armor lining his arms and legs. Dark leather bound his body underneath, visible at all his joints and tucked into his boots. A heavy-looking silver sword hung at his hip, his hands, tucked away in dark gloves, were shaking.

“Eris,” you breathed, his name the only word your brain could form. He sighed, chapped lips parting at the sound of your voice. His eyes shined, red irises glinting as silver lined his bloodshot eyes. A few cuts and scrapes adorned his flushed cheeks, riddled with marks or dirt and grime.

The male before you usually didn’t knock. He’d simply sneak in, entering your small cabin and sweeping you off your feet all in one quick motion. But he stood before you, dressed in armor, fresh from battle, shell shocked in your doorway.

He breathed your name, nothing but a whisper on his lips, as he stepped forward and held you by the shoulders. Your bodies didn’t touch, nothing close to the hug you’d been expecting to pull you into. He held you at arms length, weapons clinging against the metal along his legs, scanning over your form. What would normally have him in a frenzy, seeing you in his clothes, sweater busy barely covering your curves, not daring to even cover your bare legs - you normally wouldn’t be able to pull him off of you.

But he was ferally in search of any injuries, anything that may have been off about your form. Your hands rose to his wrists and found purchase against the leather that bound his arms into the armor. You felt his skin burning through the layers, that no doubt the heat was leaching into the silver.

You couldn’t even imagine what he’d seen, what he’d returned from.

Whatever it was, the dead bodies, the torture that must have been inflicted upon him and his men… you were just glad he made it home.

“I’m okay, Eris,” you whispered, gaze locked to his. You saw him press his lips together and swallow harshly. “You’re okay,” you continued. He looked okay, at least. No blood, no missing limbs, a few cuts and scratches - hell, you’d patched up many worse wounds inflicted by his own father.

The slightest nod.

“It’s cold, let’s come inside.” You waited for another nod before you stepped backwards, retaining your grip on his arms, slowly pulling him with you. The cold Autumn air had overtaken the whole living room, in which you couldn’t even feel the fire in the small hearth.

He heaved a sigh, dropping your shoulders as he began to recognized the room around him, when he realized where he ended up. It felt like his body was on autopilot - without even thinking he’d winnowed himself to your front door.

Eris’s hands fell to his belt, unfastening the holster his sword was looped into, and let if fall to the ground with a heavy thud. He flinched, then, returning his shaking hands to the metal plates on his chest. Those red eyes burned into yours, begging apology at the disruptive noise. “It’s okay, Eris,” you noted calmly, raising your hands to his armor. You helped him remove the heavy shielding, pulling at the thick leather laces at his sides, unweaving the knots and pulling free the strings.

He was frozen for what felt like hours, watching you work diligently, not flinching at the dirt that clung to your fingers as you pulled at the leather. The only thing he could focus on was his ragged breathing, the burn in his chest at each breath he took. He snapped out of it once you grabbed hold of the chest plate and blew out a breath as you tried to lift it off his frame.

His hands rose up to pull it away from you, the contoured metal much heavier than you could’ve ever guessed. He set it down, leaning it against the trim beside the door behind him. A small gasp fell on his pointed ears when he turned around, to which he shot back up to see you with your hands covering your mouth.

You motioned for him to turn back around, grimacing once you touched the dent on the metal hanging off his back. He shrugged it off, groaning at not only the loss of weight, but at the ache in his back. The whole piece of armor was dented at his spine, from when they’d killed his horse and he’d fallen onto their barrier walls. He thought it a miracle that he could even walk after that, but not after an ache with every step. He wasn’t sure how many bones were broken or how long it would take them to heal, but by the gods he couldn’t wait another moment to see you.

He shook his head, begging you not to ask, and continued on removing the armor, then the leather bindings, then the outer layers of his clothing. Eris was left in just his trousers and linen long sleeved shirt, the once loose material had become matted to his body, brown with grime and sweat. You tried not to stare at the flecks of blood, wounds that had probably already begun healing over, or the tears, where no doubt enemy swords may have scratched or even penetrated through the gaps in his armor.

As the broken male stood before you, eyelids heavy and shoulders slumped, you picked up your hand and raised it up to his prominent cheekbone, running your thumb over the scar adorning his pale skin. He hummed at your touch, nuzzling his cheek into your palm, as if his head was so heavy he could barely hold it up on his own.

He shut his eyes so, in fear he may fall asleep standing in your doorway, you tilted his chin up with your forefinger, and lifted his head up. He opened those bloodshot eyes and blinked a few times. “Can’t let you fall asleep so dirty, my love,” you whispered, running your thumb over his sharp jaw before you dropped your hand, only to grab his instead. “You’ll sleep much better if you’re clean.”

A small smile tugged at his lips at the sweet gesture of the female he loved as he followed you down the hall and into the bathing room.

The tea on the side table had been long forgotten.

You lit up the candles with your own fire power, the scent of maple and pine wafting around the room. Eris stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, waiting for you to guide him to the next step. He craned his neck in all directions, a low crack echoing off the walls. His shoulders ached, too sore to even move his arms, as he tried to roll out his shoulders. “None of that,” you stated over the sound of the copper tub filling with water. “Let me help.”

You grabbed two handfuls of his shirt, stuck against his abdomen, as you pulled it free from his lean muscle and pulled it over his head. He groaned, raising his arms only high enough for you to bunch up the material and slip it over his head. You repeated the action with his trousers, allowing him to step free of them and then into the water.

His skin was covered in bruises, some yellow, some still ripe and purple. His muscles were tense, you could see all the valleys of his toned legs and arms, the contour of each muscle that bound his bones. You touched his arm ever so lightly when it was time for him to step into the tub, adding a handful of soap into the stream of water.

Brown and red speckled along the surface of the water, the grime leaving his body as he nearly dropped himself into the water. He sighed, the water relaxing the ache in his bones. You grabbed the cloth and saturated it in soap, lifting his arm and dragging the soft material across his skin. A few minor cuts and scrapes, nothing that wouldn’t heal by the morning.

His eyes shut and his head fell against the edge of the tub as you worked your way across his body, stopping only to inspect the cuts adorning his skin. “Come on, Eris, wake up,” you murmured, leaning over from your spot at the edge of the tub. You lifted his head into your hands, scooping the water over his sweat-soaked locks. “Lavender or green apple?”

He hummed, opening his eyes only just a crack before responding. “Lavender.” His voice was low, so low that you almost didn’t hear it. The purple marks under his eyes were more prominent in the candle light - the male had been through hell and back, clearly, and needed nothing more than your gentle touch to heal him.

“Then you’ll no doubt fall asleep on me,” you hummed, lathering up the lavender soap in your hands before running your fingers through his hair. Your fingertips scratched at his scalp just the way he liked, running the sudsy soap through his long curls. If he weren’t so tired, he would have grabbed your arms and heaved you over the side of the tub, holding you over his lap while you washed his hair. He’d nip at your breasts as they’d fall right in his face, and maybe he’d tease the head of his cock through your folds as you bounced above him to clean the back of his head.

But he was so fucking tired.

And there was always tomorrow.

“Ok almost done,” you whispered, probably more to yourself than him, as you cleaned the soap from his hair. “You ready to get up? Or are you spending the evening in the tub?”

He smiled for the first time that evening, his lips pressed together with smile lines carved into his cheeks. His eyes had nearly fallen closed again, and although he did feel so comfortable in the warm water, he knew he ought to get up. He’d much rather spend the night in your warm bed wrapped in your arms than the water that was soon to grow cold.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he almost moaned, pressing his large hands to the sides of the tub and pushing himself up. The water moved around him, falling off his body in waves.

“Don’t mention it,” you replied, wrapping a towel over his shoulders and beginning to wipe him dry as he stepped from the bathtub. You fetched some clean clothes for him - his stockpile he’d reserved for when he decided he needed to spend weeks at your house, not daining to leave even to winnow home for more clothes.

I’m not leaving you, (Y/N). I’ll just have to spend the week naked with you, he’d say. After that week, spent more in his arms than anywhere else, you’d forced him to fill your armoire with clothes for the next impromptu vacation.

You pushed over the bathroom stool, splaying your hands on his broad back and pushing him towards the chair. You opened up the expensive salve on your counter, swiping some with your fingers and spreading it over his cheeks. You rubbed the salve into his skin - your skin will go dry in the cold, you’d told him.

In truth, he loved being pampered. He was the High Lord’s son for gods’ sake. He’d been used to a lifetime of it; but his male-pride showed when he’d spend the first night at your house, grimacing as you attempted to put the product on his face. Only this once, he’d responded, giving in only when you’d jutted out your bottom lip in protest.

But he secretly loved it, and let you do whatever you wanted to him. Which is why he sat so still on that chair when you started to run your fingers through his hair, using the heat building up in your palms and fingers to heat up his hair, drying it quickly as you sifted through it.

Between the heat and your fingers pulling at his red locks, his head fell backwards and his eyes fell shut once more. You smiled down at the male, with the hard and rigid exterior, the no one can touch me god-like complex, melted and so soft under your touch.

Once his hair was dry enough where you knew he’d have no issues falling asleep in the cold air of your bedroom, you traced your fingers over his cheeks and down his neck, over his collar bones, then down the thick muscles of his arms. Your thumb drew circles over his hard muscles, still tense and no doubt sore.

He hummed, a groan deep in his throat, as he opened his eyes and held your wrists in his hands. “We done here?” He grumbled, knowing you’d like to pamper him much more, more serums and salves - and by the Cauldron he wasn’t one to refuse a good massage.

But you knew he was tired, you bit back the smile and nodded, allowing Eris to finally stand and guide you back to the bedroom. He made sure to get you into bed first, pulling back the covers that were already strewn about from when you’d tried to sleep earlier that evening. You crawled in first, pushing back the layers of covers before so you both could lay out under the blankets.

Eris followed you in, laying on his side, bending his legs so his feet didn’t hang off the edge. You curled up to his side, chest to chest, enveloped in his warmth. His arm fell across your back, holding you close to him, and you tangled your legs with his under the pile of blankets. Eris’s breathing fell steady - you knew he fell asleep the moment his head hit the soft pillow.

No matter how hard you’d try to sleep in, you knew you’d wake before him. He was in dire need of a night of undisturbed sleep, relaxation and healing the forefront of his exhausted body’s priorities at the moment. You knew that even if you tried to sneak out as slowly and quietly as you could, he’d hold you tight in his sleep, not even waking to wrap his arms tighter around you. So you’d lie awake in his arms, tracing the scars on his skin and counting the freckles adorning his cheeks.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#acotar #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris x you

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loveshotzz · 7 months

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A/N:I was really struggling to write anything I liked tonight, so I sat in my backyard and opened up a blank word doc. Here’s the 535 words that came out, and of course it’s AIRWIY!steve. It’s pure fluff, and can be read as a stand alone. Just fire pit cuddling with your hot old man.

older!steve x fem!reader

The autumn air is crip on your skin, even breaching the thick fabric of your socks, chilling you down to your toes. An amber hue mixing ginger licks in the flames that threaten to go over the steel top of the fire pit. Warmth radiating from the crackling wood that battles against the cold you can start to see in your breath.

Steve throws in the last of the bag of wood you bought from the store on your way home from dinner. Rolling his eyes with a grin in the car at your complaints of the lack of fall activities you’ve participated in and how it was almost the middle of October. Still, he pulls into the parking lot of the local market just the same when he sees the giant sign that says five dollars a bundle.

The fire pit was new, never been used, a spontaneous purchase you made together on your first trip to Home Depot as new homeowners. Love sick and giggling, and he just couldn’t stop kissing you, keeping you tucked against him in the space between his chest and the shopping cart the whole time.

The flames dance across his face, highlighting the salt and pepper scruff that lines his sharp jaw, hazel eyes glowing in the warm light. He smiles at you when he catches you staring, closing the trap door before wiping his hands on his Levi’s making his way back over.

“We got maybe another hour out here honey, soak it up.” Twigs crack under his tan smoking slippers with a matching pair of socks like yours on his feet. The last of the leaves on your big tree begging to come spinning down in the low breeze.

“Thank you handsome,” you lift the throw blanket you dragged out with you despite his protests with a thankful grin that makes his cheeks redden from something other than the cold.

He feels like the sun when he takes up the space next to you, one long arm wrapping around your shoulders to pull you to his side. His warmth makes your skin tingle, snaking yourself around his middle you press your cold cheek to the wool of his jacket to soak up more. He smells like the bonfire, and when you inhale deeply you can still catch the notes of pine and cedar that seem to never go away. The red wine from dinner still lingers sweet on his breath, fanning across the top of your head followed by the softest press of his lips.

His fingers find yours under the fleece, and they’re warm just like the rest of him. He doesn’t hesitate to intertwine, a small smile just for him when he feels the cool metal of your engagement ring against his skin.

“You’re so cold, pretty girl. I told you to bring a warmer sweater.” His voice drips with smoked honey, the tip of his nose nudging against your temple.

You crane your neck to meet his eyes, the crows feet that line the edges look deeper in the flickering light. The pad of his thumb adds pressure to your palm, relaxing your muscles before bringing your fingers to his lips. He kisses the tips of them with the utmost care, doing it a second time for good measure making you giggle something sweet.

“Guess I’ll have to warm you up myself.”

Who needs a sweater when you have Steve?

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fanfiction

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mytheoristavenue · 1 year

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Hey hon!

I have loved all the funny innuendos in your heatwave series and I was wondering if I could possibly request a Christmas version? You write it so well and I think it would be just hilarious! No worries if you aren’t interested. Just thought it would be cute! Hugs! 💚

Anything for you!

TMNT 12 Turtles x Reader - Cold front!

Summary: During a record low cold front, you find yourself being fought over for your warmth.

Warnings: mostly fluff, a few suggestive situations.

You shivered, pulling your jacket around your tighter, expelling a visible breath as you entered the lair. To your surprise, it was seemingly empty. Walking further into the living room, you called out to the boys, worried when you go no responses. Suddenly, a figure, cloaked in a fleece blanket popped up off the couch. "(Y/N), you're here!" Spinning around you found Mikey cuddled up on the sofa watching T.V. You giggled, coming around to sit with him. "Can I have your jacket?" he asked, crawling over to you and pleading.

"No, then I'll be cold." you replied with a guilty smile. He whined, plopping his head down onto your thigh to return his attention to the show he was consuming.

"Mmm..." he hummed softly. "So warm..." You laughed as he nuzzled your leg, latching onto it.

"I take it you're pretty cold if you think I'm warm."

"You are," he confirmed, snuggling closer to you, prompting your cheeks to dust a light pink. "My personal heater."

"Mikey..." you trailed off, feeling a bit suffocated.

Suddenly, you heard a voice grumbling down the hall, coming closer to the living room. "Damnit, Mikey! I told you to stay outta my room!" Raph's gruff voice complained. "Gimme back my extra blanket- oh, (Y/N), you're here."

"It would seem so," you snickered.

The irritated turtle sighed, finding that you were also using his blanket, deciding he didn't have the heart to take it away. Quickly, his mood changed, and he darted back to his bedroom, returning with an old comforter. With a smug grin, he came to sit on your left, throwing it over the two of you, before cozying up against you, without any warning or permission. "Raph," you stated. "What are you doing?"

"You're the warmest thing in this whole damn house, and I'm gonna get me some of that." You blushed shyly as the brothers began to argue over the fact that the older was only sharing his blanket with you. You couldn't be bothered to listen, you were too focused on how close they both were to you and the heat that was circulating beneath all the fabric of their covers.

As the argument seemed to draw to a close, you began to feel everything shift. Suddenly, you were pushed forward into a stand, and both turtles rearranged themselves on the couch. Before you could put two and two together, you were pulled down into Raph's lap, his arms snaking around your securely. Mikey filled the was of draping the comforter over the both of you, before layering the fleece throw on top. After every thing was said and done, he shimmied underneath the covers, snuggling into your doughy right side.

You sat frozen, enveloped in warm and presence. "Why...?" was the only response you could find as you peered up into Raph's lime eyes.

"Oh, Mikey wanted some of my blanket, but it's not big enough for all of us, so he said I could sit behind you and warm up that way, in exchange for most of the covers." he explained so matter of factly.

You were astonished to say the least. "Okay, but I wasn't his to barter with?" you scolded, only to be interrupted by the sound of the lab doors opening and shutting.

You watched as Donnie trudged out, looking as if he hadn't slept in years. "Temp's 'sposed to drop again tonight," he yawned groggily before glancing over at the huddle on the sofa. "Oh, good, (Y/N), you got my text." Just as the others had, he supplied his own blanket, a quilt with coffee stains. He sleepily walked over to the cushioned ottoman in the center of the room. "Feet up," he ordered as he pushed it flush against the couch where your legs had been. With that, he curled up on it, making himself comfortable as he rested his head in your lap, laying between your plush thighs.

You were unable to hold in your discomfort at this point. You were being used as a human heating pad and no body seemed to care. When Donnie had texted you and asked you to come over, you had not sighed up for this! "Is anybody going to explain to me what's going on!?" you squealed under the mountain of soft materials and scaly skin.

"We're cold," Mikey whined, nuzzling your side even more so.

"And you're warm," Raph added, squeezing your torso contently.

"Actually, it's a little more complicated than that, but that's the gist." Donnie corrected, his words falling against the denim of your jeans. "When turtles get cold, they don't go into hibernation like other amphibians, but we do tend to get," he paused, as if on que to yawn before continuing. "Pretty sluggish, and once when find something warm, we conjugate around that." he finished elaborating, glancing up at your still puzzled face with annoyance. "You're our warm thing."

You couldn't stop the glow in your cheeks as you felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility to keep the boys warm can comfortable. You notice Donnie shift in your lap to lay on his shell, hoisting his phone above his face as he texted.

"Thank God," a final exhausted voice called form the entrance to the dojo, accompanied with the sound of it slamming shut. Leo slinked over to the end of the couch, wordlessly collapsing on your left. His leg was thrown across you, his blanket wrapped around him as he latched onto you arm, already nearly asleep. You sighed, now that your dog pile was finally complete, and let your head fall against the front of Raph's shell, nuzzling him as you began to feel tired yourself.

This cold front was due to last several days, and there was no place you could think of that would be more cozy that right here with your favorite boys.

Taglist:

@sunshinesdaydream @helpyaw @thelaundrybitch @momii @camillahorne26 @turtle-babe83 @fyreball66 @sharpwindow @roseygardenfan @witchofthenorthstar @pheradream15 @post-apocalyptic-daydream @hyunonion

#tmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2012 x reader #leonardo #leo x reader #raphael #raphael x reader #tmnt michelangelo #mikey x reader #donatello #donnie x reader

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gaycrittercentral · 6 months

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Welp it’s not Halloween anymore (and actually these pictures are from last year hkkhljhl) but who give a shit y'all wanna see my goofy lil Sam costume :D if you were here for my Halloween stream then you already saw this but if not then LOOKIT MY SUIT BOY

Fun fact, I made all this last year and meant to post it then but I was just too lazy whoops. So I'm tryin to do better this time around, lmaoooo. Anyway yeah! Samb costume!! If you wanna hear how I made some of the elements for this and gathered up the rest, feel free to check out my ramblings under the cut :Dc

This was such a fun project. A lot of elements were of course just staples of businesswear, like I found the suit jacket at H&M and the pants at Target (and hemmed them because I love men's pants but they don't love my short-ass legs), but some parts were a bit more complicated. The hat, for example, I also found at Target, but it had the wrong kind of band, so I just took that off and hand sewed on a length of wide black ribbon in its place. I ain't no milliner or haberdasher or what have you but I feel like it came out pretty ok! And the ears were an element that I figured would be a fun addition lol, they are made of fleece I believe? I forget. I gave them a bit of soft stuffing so they're basically two soft pillows, and then safety-pinned them into the inner brim of the hat--that way I can look like a normal person if I ever decide to wear the hat in public lmao.

The tie was an absolute delight to work on. And also torture. Y'know, kind of a 'why not both' moment. I ended up reverse engineering a tie I already had and cannibalizing its inner fabric to make the new one, since I knew I wasn't going to wear the original. The new tie is made with a silky blue fabric that isn't silk that I don't remember what it is because I have a sponge for a brain. Sorry ^^; But basically I replaced the original outer part of the tie with my new fabric and sewed her up by hand (it's not really a machine job as far as I can tell), then painted on the stripes with watered down black fabric paint. I had hoped that watering it down would prevent it from making the fabric stiff, but that didn't end up working because it required so many layers to be opaque, oof. There's probably better ways to go about it, so if you're making your own Sam tie it's worth it to do some more research! Plus, they do sell regular blue ties out there that you could paint. I'm just insane. And tbh I wish I had just bought one but at least I can say I've made a tie now lmaoooo

And I suppose the last element of this is the paper bag Max puppet! I love him so dearly, he was a delight to make ^^ I'd tell you how to make him but why do that when obviously I learned from the original? Make sure to put one in your car ok it's really important

God I love this comic. And I also dearly dearly love how faithfully they adapted it in the cartoon <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Anyway that's it that's all I got!! Also because I've never worn this thing out of the house it doesn't have shoes to go with, I just got some brown socks. I figure it fits with Sam as a shoe-hating person lmaooo. ok that's all bye thanks for looking hope y'all had a happy Halloween!!!!

#I know I keep saying it but stream drawings coming soon!!!!! I've just been busy fjdklghskfhjskfh #also I'm having to type this with my little stinky cat laying across like a quarter of the keyboard lmao #it's a miracle I managed to reach the w key AAAH HE BITE THE ME #sam and max #sam and max freelance police #freelance husbands #my art

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ddejavvu · 6 months

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Reader who steals clothes from both Steve and Robin (maybe a poly, maybe just the best of friends) but they always let it happen, neither of them complain! Until one day you notice half your closet missing, and when you go into family video, both members of the himbo and lesbian dynamic are covered head to toe in your stolen clothes

as per the request criteria, they all swap clothing so it's implied that they're relatively similar sized!

You find it rather unfair that, out of all of the clothes in your closet, your favorite jeans have gone missing. The ones that you wear every day, the ones that you've nearly worn holes through, the ones that fit you so perfectly they might as well be a second skin. They've got deep pockets and a good waistband, but the ones you'd had to shove on last-minute to get to work on time are too-tight and the pockets are sewn shut to the rest of the fabric.

You're already in a bad mood when you storm through the doors due to the uncomfortable pressure around your waist, and your belongings dangling from your hands instead of tucked safely into your pockets, but your eyes zero in on Robin's pants immediately. She's waiting for you at the door, holding a stack of tapes in one arm as she smirks at your disheveled appearance.

Her pants are your pants.

"Morning, Sunshine," She drawls, that lazy smirk over her face fitting her features like a glove, "Jeans shrink in the wash?"

"The hell- those are mine!" You accuse, jabbing a finger towards her lower half. The jeans fit her just as snugly as they do you, and you see a pen barely visible in the pocket. Your pocket.

"We decided to get you back," She explains, "You take our clothes all the time. It's time we stole yours, too."

"We?" You ask, "Where's Steve?"

"Here." He calls from behind a few shelves down, "Your jacket's really comfy, by the way."

You stalk over to where his voice is coming from and find him snugly fitted into your lush pink zip-up, the hood fleece-lined for cold winters. There's rhinestones on the back that say 'babygirl', and when he peers up at you through his lashes where he's crouching to shelve tapes, he looks the part.

"You rats," You conclude, jaw perpetually agape, "I- I'll give back your clothes, I swear! Just don't stretch out my jacket, Steve." You cast a wary glance down to the zipper that looks like it may spring free from its constraints and smack you in the forehead, "Your boobs are too big.”

#steve harrington x reader #robin buckley x reader #steve harrington imagine #robin buckley imagine #steve harrington fluff #robin buckley fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #robin buckley fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot #robin buckley oneshot #steve harrington blurb #robin buckley blurb

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chic-a-gigot · 2 months

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La Mode nationale, no. 45, 5 mars 1887, Paris. Nos. 13 et 15. — Dos et devant d'une robe d'intérieur. No. 17. — Costume de voyage. No. 20. — Robe de ville. Maison Vidal sœuers. Bibliothèque nationale de France

Nos. 13 et 15. — Dos et devant d'une robe d'intérieur en molleton crème. Jupe unie, froncée derrière, ouvrant devant sur une sous-jupe plissée, volant en bas. Tout le davant de la robe est garni par une dentelle légèrement froncée. Une longue ceinture de velours vient se nouer négligement à la taille. Le milieu du dos est garni par des bands de pékin, formant pointes, alternées avec de la dentelle. Plastron et manches en pékin formant chevron.

Nos. 13 and 15. — Back and front of a cream fleece house dress. Plain skirt, gathered at the back, opening in front onto a pleated underskirt, ruffled at the bottom. The entire front of the dress is trimmed with slightly gathered lace. A long velvet belt is tied casually at the waist. The middle of the back is trimmed with strips of pekin, forming points, alternating with lace. Chevron-shaped pekin bib and sleeves.

—

No. 17. — Costume de voyage en tissu pékin prune et héliotrope, et en cheviotte unie. Jupe plissée à larges panneaux, garnie dans le bas par un petit plissé. Longue draperie, très froncée à la taille, formant pointe devant et pouf drapé derrière. Corsage-veste, très ouvert, à revers, ouvrant sur une chemisette bouffant en faille à petits pois. Manches longues et plates, à parements de pékin. Grand chapeau de feutre, garni d'une longue plume amazone, dont le pied est caché sous un large nœud de ruban.

No. 17. — Travel suit in plum and heliotrope pekin fabric and plain cheviotte. Pleated skirt with large panels, trimmed at the bottom with a small pleat. Long drapery, very gathered at the waist, forming a point in front and a draped pouf behind. Very open bodice-jacket, with lapels, opening onto a puffed shirt in polka dot fault. Long, flat sleeves with pekin facings. Large felt hat, trimmed with a long Amazon feather, the base of which is hidden under a large ribbon bow.

Métrage: 5 mètres tissu pékin, en 1 mètre de large; 5 mètres cheviotte unie, 1 mètre faille.

—

No. 20. — Robe de ville en faille noire. Le devant de la jupe, encadré entre-deux darperies droites, plissées, est ornée par une broderie au passé. La jupe, très froncée derrière à la taille, retombe en pouf droit. Le corsage-veste, à très longues basques est également brodé au passé sur la poitrine; il croise sur un long gilet en velours noir. Parements également en velours.

No. 20. — City dress in black faille. The front of the skirt, framed between two straight, pleated darperies, is decorated with embroidery in the past. The skirt, very gathered behind at the waist, falls in a straight pouf. The bodice-jacket, with very long basques, is also embroidered on the chest; it crosses over a long black velvet vest. Facings also in velvet.

Métrage: 14 mètres faille noire, 1 mètre velours.

Capote béguin en tulle perlé garnie sur le devant par une fantaisie en plumes.

Beaded tulle bonnet trimmed on the front with feather decoration.

—

Nous rappelons que tous ces élégants costumes sortent de la Maison Vidal sœurs, 104, rue de Richelieu, dont les expositions de robes et de manteaux ont toujours un si grand retentissement et un réel succès. Ce succès est si grand, qu'il nécessite un agrandissement d'ateliers et de salons, pour lequel les sœurs Vidal préparent une magnifique exposition des nouveautés d'été, à laquelle elles convient toutes nos lectrices, dès que la date en ser fixée.

We remind you that all these elegant costumes come from the Maison Vidal sisters, 104, rue de Richelieu, whose exhibitions of dresses and coats always have such a great impact and real success. This success is so great that it requires an expansion of workshops and salons, for which the Vidal sisters are preparing a magnificent exhibition of summer novelties, to which they invite all our readers, as soon as the date is fixed.

B.V.

#La Mode nationale #19th century #1880s #1887 #on this day #March 5 #periodical #fashion #fashion plate #description #bibliothèque nationale de france #dress #house #bustle #suit #Modèles de chez #Maison Vidal #devant et dos

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wafflepatterns · 2 months

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Meet new sewing pattern <Komugi> Over shirt

A new item is just published from Waffle Patterns. Meet Over shirt <Komugi> sewing pattern, a work wear style over shirt with many functional pockets. Depending on your fabric and design choice, it will be a work shirt, uniform-like service shirt or outdoor style shirt jacket. You can make just a simple shirt as well.

View A features a hidden button stand front opening + patch side pockets + an inside pocket. The patch side pockets are 2 types ; side opening or layered type. The cuff is no-opening design.

View B has a normal button stand + seam pocket + back bent and cuff opening.

The chest pocket design has 2 options, layer type or zipper pocket.

View A is intended as non-scratch design suitable for a work shirt especially if you are working on fragile things. View B can be made as a more outdoor-like shirt jacket with details like cuff openings or a vent. But of course you can choose and mix the options as you like!

The khaki sample in the photos features viewA, and the red plaid one is view B. The caramel brown one has mixed features.

My favourite feature is the sleeve patches. Adding compliment textures/colours is really fun! But you can sew without them, too.

Please make your creative style by mixing your favourite details.

The pattern is drafted for woven fabrics. Light-medium weight durable shirt fabrics are recommended. like corduroy, duck, twill, denim, linen, flannel, light wool or canvas etc.

It is not impossible to use very light drapery fabric, but those are not suitable for some details like patch pockets or vent.

Also, some very thick/stiff fabrics might not work well for details like pockets with facing. In that case, please consider using other lighter fabrics partly like the inside yoke, facing, or pocket parts.

Please choose a suitable one for your design intension.

For the caramel brown sample in the photos, I used cotton canvas. Suitable for work shirts and very easy to handle. The contrast fabric used for the sleeve patch and pocket layer is faux suede.

If you want very durable patches, leather or rubber-mixed fabrics are used for professional work apparel. But for general daily usage, like mine, design oriented choice like nice compliment colours or textures will be enough. Using leftover or old clothes is a fun choice, too.

The khaki sample is cotton ripstop. This one is also very suitable for work wear. The patch part is mixed twill.

The red plaid one is light wool backed fleece. I backed all the pieces with fleece except the folded parts like pocket openings or hem.

I bought all those fabrics from my local fabric market, but most of them are from years ago. I wanted to share where I bought them, but I actually forgot all.

I think light water repellent or windproof fabrics are nice functional options, too.

<Size>

The shirt is drafted regular fit.

I made on size bigger the red plaid sample because I wanted to wear this as a jacket. Also because the fabric gets thicker with fleece backing.

The caramel brown and khaki samples were made with just fit size.

If you attach the hidden button stand design, it is better to use flat and thin buttons for clean look opening.

*********************

The sewing pattern includes 18 pages of instructions and all the sewing processes are described with detailed illustrations. The pattern files are available for both home printers (A4 or US letter) and copyshop(A0 format).

You can check other photos of this model on my Flickr page.

The over shirt -Komugi- (size 32 - 54) PDF sewing pattern is available here. Also in the Etsy shop.

Special discount price until 13th Mar 2024 (CET) with other popular patterns. No discount code is needed! The sale page is here.

***** Special offer for Paper pattern and free shipping Paper pattern + PDF option is available limited time. *The paper includes only the pattern, please print out the instruction by yourself or read it with your tablet or PC. The PDF + Paper listing page is here.

Enjoy your sewing!

(Japanese post here 日本語ポストはこちら).

**********************

follow me! Instagram /// Facebook /// Shop /// Pinterest /// Newsletter

#sewing #sewing patterns #wafflepatterns #diy fashion #other tip

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darling-archeron · 4 months

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Happy Holidays to @charliespringsleftconverse!! I had so much fun writing this fic for @acotargiftexchange and getting to know you better. You said you were having a bit of a rough year, and I hope this fic can help a tiny bit! Thank you for being so patient, I hope the wait will have been worth it. This fic will be divided into four chapters, with updates on Tuesdays!

Many months have passed since the end of the War, but not all wounds have healed. Repairs, both emotional and physical, are still underway. When Feyre finally finds a break in her schedule, she feels duty-bound to visit the one place she thought she’d never return to: her old village. With Rhys by her side, she takes a trip through old memories.

Rated T, 2.6k words | Masterlist | Fic Masterlist

Feyre stood before her wardrobe, blankly staring at the rows of garments before her.

Today was…more difficult than she had expected.

Her options blurred before her. So many pieces, the simplest of them finer than anything she had worn in poverty as a human. A bolt of fabric from the finest could have fed her family for months, back then.

She was only picking out clothes. It shouldn’t have been difficult.

Cauldron, what was wrong with her? She thought she had moved past this long ago. She had never mourned her human life to the extent that her sisters had. She didn’t miss that small village and all the misery that lingered there.

However, that didn’t mean her heart would let her abandon it. She still wanted to help.

The task looming before her should have been nothing to everything she had faced in her twenty-two years.

Hesitantly, she pulled out a navy tunic and brown fleece-lined jacket. On any other day, they would have been fine.

She shoved it back in the wardrobe.

It didn’t feel fine today.

In the back of her mind, she registered Rhys entering the room, returning from the kitchen with two cups of tea. She heard the soft clink as he set both teacups down on one of the nightstands.

Then he came up behind her, snaking a gentle arm around her waist. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the cuff tattoo on his forearm that lovingly matched hers. She stood still as he brushed a loose hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. Even without the mental connection, he always seemed to have a sixth sense for when she was distressed.

“What are you thinking about, love?” He asked through the bond.

Feyre smiled a bit at that. He could have sifted through her thoughts straightaway if he wanted, but she appreciated how he asked instead.

“Just…nervous, I suppose. When we were in my village during the war, I felt like I didn’t really have the option not to go, with so many lives hanging in the balance. But now I do have a choice, and…it’s just overwhelming.”

Now that things were stable, and Velaris was back on its feet, Feyre had chiseled out a bit of time to visit the mortal lands. To help rebuild her old village and any surrounding ones that still needed help – for, despite all of Lucien’s work with Vassa and Jurian, and despite the many months that had passed since the war’s end, aid was still often slow to come to the slip of human territory south of the Spring Court.

Rhys pressed his thumb softly into her side, rubbing comforting circles over the sliver of bare skin while he thought for a moment.

“Nobody would blame you if you never wanted to go back there again. You know that. But you do, because you care, and that’s the important part. And when we’re out there today, I want you to remember something.”

“What’s that?”

“No one can make you small, darling. You are more than the insults the worst of them can throw at you.”

“After I’ve faced so many real monsters and gone to war, this shouldn’t feel so scary. The worst things awaiting us there are a bunch of prejudiced assholes.”

“Well, this is why you’re going, isn’t it? To prove them wrong?”

“I’m going because it’s the right thing to do. Proving them wrong…that’ll be a bonus.”

“And Rhys?” she said, out loud this time.

“Yes?”

“No matter how much you might want to, you have to promise not to incinerate the first person who’s rude to me.”

Rhys’s easy smile receded into a thin line. “Who said anything about incinerating?”

“Sometimes I don’t have to be in your mind to know what you’re thinking. I know you have self control, when you’re willing to exercise it. In the name of diplomacy.”

Rhys leaned in a bit closer, breath brushing against the shell of her ear. “Then you should also know that you’re the thing that unravels my self control most quickly.”

“Oh?”

She felt her toes curl as Rhys pressed his lips to her neck.

“Maybe you should demonstrate exactly how that happens,” she murmured.

Amongst other things, Rhys’s little…interruption to her dressing had certainly made the early morning go by quicker, at least.

By the time they were done, the tea was cold, and it was a good thing she had never dressed, because she would have had to do it all over again.

In the end, she picked a sturdy pair of boots and her favorite set of fleece-lined leathers to guard her against early spring’s slight chill in the mortal land. Why had she felt the need to wear human attire when she wasn’t one? She was part of the Night Court, and proud of it. And the villagers could be as proud and pigheaded as they wanted, but she wouldn’t let it hinder her.

Faerie-human relations had gotten far enough that they wouldn’t be chased out of the village with pitchforks, but there was still work to be done. Enough that Feyre had decided not to openly advertise who she and Rhys were, though it would be obvious to anyone who thought about it for a few moments. So Rhys would hide his wings, and they both would keep a damper on the full might of their magic.

They had a quiet breakfast, only interrupted by the occasional comment.

“Mor will be winnowing back in tonight, so she’ll be able to join us,” Rhys mentioned in between bites of toast.

“I can’t wait to see her again, there’s so much to catch up on,” she mused with a smile. It seemed like ages since she had seen Mor, and even longer than that since the whole family had gotten together.

“What time is everyone coming over?”

“I told them around 9. Nothing too extravagant, just good food with our family.”

The long day ahead of them was certainly daunting, but tonight, their whole family would be together again, after months of someone always travelling. The thought of it fortified her for the day ahead. Every year, their little circle seemed to grow bigger and bigger, and her heart only fuller along with it.

After finishing breakfast, they were ready to depart just after sunrise. Part of Feyre yearned to enjoy the morning by flying, but she knew that would take them far too long, and with her lack of experience, she wouldn’t be able to keep up with Rhys over the distance.

So, winnowing it was. Standing in the foyer of the house, she linked her arm with his, and they were off, soaring through the dark fabric of the world. Rhys was only a vague shape next to her, and though she had winnowed with him countless times before, she held on tight.

All too quickly, they arrived. Rhys landed them just outside the driveway to the old Archeron estate on the edge of town. Last week, she had written to the village heads, letting them know the Night Court would be sending aid. Not because she expected some kind of special greeting, but more to give the villagers – many of whom were still wary of faeries – a heads up.

Walking into town would help with that, too. It would be much less startling than the pair of them materializing out of thin air.

Feyre paused for a long moment, taking in her once-familiar surroundings. There was a warmth to the air that hadn’t been present in the farther north Velaris. Behind them stood the ruins of their old manor. Nobody had bothered to salvage or attempt repairs on it; who would, when there was no one left to care about it?

She hadn’t been back to it since those initial meetings after the war had ended. It had been cleaned up just enough to make sure there were usable chairs and no rusty nails poking out of any exposed boards.

All the same, she felt a pulse of regret as she made out the trampled remains of the garden Elain had once loved so dearly.

“Shall we?” Rhys asked, gently breaking her chain of thought.

She nodded, giving him a tight smile.

It was strange to be back in her village, to say the least.

As they approached the town center, memories of the times she had been here before felt like flipping through the pages of a dusty, ancient book.

A young child in the largest mansion in the town, on a hill that overlooked the whole city.

A starving girl, traumatized from the memory of her mother’s deathbed and her father’s leg, broken before her.

A love-struck human woman, returning to the village to see her family’s return to favor.

A newly-made faerie, desperately trying to change the tide of a war.

In some ways, the village itself had changed as much as she had. So little remained of what she remembered. Like the Archeron manor, many of the wealthiest estates had their lands pillaged, ornamental walls razed to the ground..

It had taken her far too long to come here. They could have done more good earlier on, but she couldn’t leave Velaris. Rhys, of course, never intended on stopping her as Tamlin once had, but he had tried to gently remind her that this wasn’t her responsibility.

But wasn’t it? She, along with the rest of the Inner Circle, had bargained with the Mortal Queens for their half of the book, and dragged anyone in range of her family’s home into this.

She had brought about the downfall of the Spring Court, she had left holes in the wall, she hadn’t nullified the Cauldron in time and allowed monsters from Prythian and Hybern alike to find their way in.

Hybern may have pillaged and burned, but she had helped open the door.

She hadn’t come sooner for two reasons:

The first was that repairs in the Night Court had to come first. The second was her own guilt. Helping here…it felt like a cheap way to make up for all the damage she had done, but she couldn’t think of another meaningful way to help.

She was more grateful than she could express that she wasn’t alone in this endeavor. Rhys had a mountain of things to be working on, and yet he had taken the day to come with her.

On the main road, they passed a gaggle of teenagers who stared at them both like they had two heads, their whispers plenty loud to her fae ears.

“…from the Night Court…”

“They say they want to help…”

“I’ve heard they’ll rip the skin from your bones.”

“You think Penalope found a faerie like that when she crossed the wall?”

Was that…admiration she heard in that last remark? Her mate certainly was handsome.

She briefly considered doing something possessive like snaking an arm around him or letting the damper off her magic to twine shadows around him…but that probably wouldn’t help her case.

She had no problem with strangers ogling her mate. Not when he was so clearly hers.

Besides, they weren’t trying to chase her with pitchforks. That was something.

Still, as they walked on, she felt more self-conscious than she cared to admit. It shouldn’t have mattered. She had defied the odds, broken curses and worlds and then stitched them back together again, but part of her was still that lost child, ignoring the sneers of her fellow villagers as she trudged out into the barren forest.

It had been rare for anyone to stop her, to express concern that a child was taking on that dangerous work. She had been younger than these teenagers, who looked like children to her, were. And when she had become fae…

She chased the memories out of her head as they walked into the village proper. Today wasn’t a market day, and the streets were mostly quiet. Here, most things had been rebuilt or were in the process. Nearly everything had been made of wood and hadn’t stood a chance when Hybern lit their matches.

“There aren’t any Children of the Blessed around,” Feyre murmured, noting the lack of their robes and jangling bracelets.

“Does that surprise you?”

“I suppose not. Hard to idolize us when you see up-close what faeries are capable of.”

Most of the noise came from the center of the town square, where four men were in the process of rebuilding the town pavilion.

Somehow, she wasn’t surprised that this was one of the last things being rebuilt. Obviously, people’s homes were much more vital, but the structure had rarely been used in her lifetime. For the common folk, it often seemed like there wasn’t much to celebrate.

Only one of the men, sawing a beam of wood, was facing their direction as they approached. He looked up suddenly, freezing as he took them in.

Fortifying herself, Feyre quickly bridged the last few paces between them, doing her best to look as nonthreatening as possible. The man still had a tight grip on his saw.

“We’ve come to help with repairs. Where can we be of the most use?” she asked, more confident than she felt.

The man’s ruddy face was vaguely familiar, likely someone she had crossed paths with during her years in the village. If he made out anything familiar in her features, he didn’t say.

He eyed the pair of them cautiously, taking in their inhuman features and the unfamiliar make of their clothes. She knew, because it was what she would have done, back in her village days.

“You’re the ones from the Night Court.”

Behind him, the other men had stopped their work, watching the exchange with tension coming off of them in waves . She didn’t need her daemati powers to know what they were thinking.

“Yes. My name is Feyre Archeron. This is my mate, Rhysand.”

Recognition clicked in his eyes at the mention of her last name.

“Yes…Remus said that there were faeries that wanted to help. With all due, I have to tell you that we have it handled.”

Feyre had been expecting this pushback – experienced it plenty of times in Velaris and the Spring Court.

“It seems like you could use any help you can get. You’ve made a lot of progress in town, but we passed by plenty of homes in our way in that are in disrepair. I know the continent hasn’t been sending the help you need.”

“Plenty of people in this village have had their lives and livelihood town apart by the fae. You expect them to welcome you in? My lady?” He tacked on at the last moment.

“I was once human. I understand their fear better than most,” she insisted.

The man paled slightly, and at first she thought it was because of her words. Then she realized that, at her side, Rhys had lifted the damper on his magic ever-so-slightly, a slightly threatening wave of shadows emanating off of him.

“Rhys!” she admonished down the bond. “You said you weren’t going to do that!”

“I said I wasn’t going to incinerate anyone, darling. Besides, I needed to let some magic out. You know how strenuous it is.”

“You won’t let me forget it. Poor, baby High Lord,” she scoffed.

Oblivious to their conversation, the man cleared his throat. “If you insist, there are some homes to the west that were hit hard. They could use help with repairs.”

“Thank you,” Rhys said, all politeness in his voice. “We’ll head there now.”

The man didn’t respond, instead simply turning back to bend over his sawhorse. It was a better reception than she had expected, honestly.

She turned to the winding, familiar path ahead of them, leading to the oldest part of the village.

“Ready?” she asked Rhys.

“Lead the way, darling.”

See you next week for chapter two!

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