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ereardon · 2 months

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Homecoming [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter 1

Summary: Returning home to California after six years abroad in England, you found everything has changed. Jake Seresin, your father's former college roommate and lifelong best friend, is now a widower and has purchased a new vineyard in Montecito, only a few miles from your childhood home. Your parents’ marriage is on the rocks, your brother is struggling with what to do with his life, and you’ve grown up and are starting your own counseling practice. So what happens when you find yourself falling for the man your father calls his best friend? And worse, what happens when your parents find out he’s falling for you, too?

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings: Age gap, eventual smut, cursing, alcohol

Word count: 2.1K

Author's note: This fic references a significant age gap, as reader is the child of Jake's best friend. However, she's in her mid-twenties, and he's been only a small part of her life to this point as he spent the majority of his time traveling with his late wife. This fic does not depict grooming, but if you are concerned with any of the themes please read at your own risk.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes.

A part of you had forgotten what it smelled like, to breathe fresh ocean air instead of stuffy city smog. Six years in London had warped your senses. It had worn its way into your everyday life, from the coffee you drank (flat whites) to the way you asked for random items (bits and bobs) to the foods you now craved (sausage rolls and chips with mayonnaise).

You looked down at your ratty pajama bottoms and sighed. Even though you had spent the better part of a decade abroad, living a sparkling social life in one of the world’s greatest cities, you were still the simple girl next door from Montecito. You still lived with your parents, a fact that you were very well aware of as you stood at the french doors of your childhood bedroom, staring out across the backyard.

Below, you could smell the charcoal grill and your mother’s famous peach cobbler.

“Y/N!” Your father’s voice was nearly crushed by the sound of a car zipping up the circular driveway. You leaned out further against the Juliette balcony, trying to spy the car, the green back end of a shiny Jaguar coming into view. “Come downstairs for cocktails!”

“Five minutes!” you called back.

Ten minutes later, who was counting, you stepped barefoot down the spiral staircase, landing silently on the marble foyer floor. Voices carried across the expansive hallway through to the back of the house where the large iron doors leading out to the patio were propped open, a light early fall breeze wafting in.

Before you could make it halfway across the room, a ball of fur caught your eye and you were almost toppled by a shaggy golden retriever as he jumped on your legs.

“Hugo!” You bent down, rubbing your hands along the dog’s spine, over his head, ruffling his ears. “You’ve gotten old, buddy.”

“He’s aged like fine wine, just like his dad.”

You looked up. Jake Seresin was headed straight for you, a grin practically splitting his face, his favorite cowboy hat resting on his head. You gave Hugo one last pat on the head before standing up, flinging your arms open wide, letting Jake pull you tightly into a hug. He smelled familiar, like dirt and ripe stone fruit, and as you pulled away you noted that his left hand, typically adorned with a gold wedding band, was bare.

“Good to have you back, Sparky,” he said, stepping toward the back of the house, Hugo following on his footsteps.

“God, been ages since someone’s called me that,” you replied. “In London they just called me that California girl.”

He laughed. Jake’s laugh was always something you had admired. Deep, and whole. It practically had its own seat at the long wooden table that your mother had piled high with bowls of colorful salads and plates of dip.

“Y/N, can you pour the wine Jake brought?”

“Sure.” You grabbed the bottle. It didn’t have a label, just a simple green bottle with a red wax drip over the cork. You sliced it off carefully, sinking a corkscrew into the soft cork with ease. Jake watched with hawk eyes as you yanked the handle up seamlessly, pulling out the cork and sniffing it. A warm pinot noir. You poured yourself a fingertip in a glass and took a sip. “Damn that’s good.”

Your mother frowned. “Manners, missy.”

You rolled your eyes. “Mother, I’m twenty five.”

“You’re never too old to be reminded that it’s nice to have manners.”

“She’s not wrong, Marla,” Jake said, his fingertips folding over yours as he took the wine bottle, filling everyone’s glass. “It is damn good.”

“You’re biased,” your father said, leaning back against his wooden chair. “It’s the best vintage you’ve had since you bought the place.”

“Good rain last year,” Jake replied, sliding the glass back over toward you. “And no fires.”

“Thank God,” your father replied.

“Where’s Colin?” You turned left and right, your older brother nowhere to be seen.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the outdoor table. You frowned. Colin had always been the wild card of the family, but you had complete faith in him. The two of you were Irish twins, born only a year apart, and he was the one you spoke to almost daily while you lived abroad. Colin was the one who called you when cousin Jackie ditched her fiancé two days before the wedding, and Colin was the one who tapped on your door late at night to sneak out and go swimming on balmy summer nights. It was Colin who you could depend on, even when no one else could depend on him.

“He’s out,” your father said finally, folding his hands on the table. “Shall we get started?”

“Yes, please, I’m starving,” you replied, leaning forward and taking a heaping serving of your mother’s famous quinoa salad.

“So Sparky, how’s it going, being back?” Jake leaned forward in his iron chair, picking at a piece of garlic bread.

“Well, the food isn’t all brown,” you replied, biting into a ripe tomato, letting the flavor burst along your tongue, “so that’s a plus.”

“I quite liked those potato triangle things they had in Scotland,” your dad replied.

You rolled your eyes. “Potato tatties dad. And yes, those are good. But so are vegetables.” You paused. “I have to say, the wine here is way too expensive though.”

“Ouch.” Jake smirked. “Speaking of wine, your mom said you’re looking for a job for a few months, while you get everything for your clinic organized?” You nodded. You had signed the lease for the clinic over Zoom while still packing up your flat in London, excitement worming its way through your limbs. It was becoming real. Six years of school and finally you were opening your own counseling practice in California. “Contractor said we’re about four months from finishing.”

“Come work for me.” You looked up, surprised. Jake had his hand dangling over the side of his chair, petting Hugo’s fluffy head. “I need a new manager. Someone with people skills and a head for numbers. You can work whatever hours you need, if you need to start late or end early to check in on the clinic.”

“That’s a really nice offer.”

“I sense a but coming.”

You nodded. “But I don’t know anything about business.”

Jake waved a hand in the air. There was a nonchalance about him. There always had been. He was the polar opposite of your father – a hard exterior corporate lawyer. No nonsense. Jake and your father had been friends for as long as you could remember. But he and his late wife Jenny were the complete opposite of your parents. They traveled the world. They hiked in Peru and ate at tiny sidewalk cafes in Vietnam. For the majority of your life, they had lived in the Bay area, and you would see them a few times a year, the two of them dropping by on the tail end of a trip or at the start of another.

It wasn’t until Jenny passed away that Jake decided to put down roots. He packed up the Marin house, settled into a beautiful ranch-style home on the edge of the new vineyard he purchased.

“Neither did I,” he said. “You’ll make it work. You’re a smart girl. Besides, there’s free wine in the deal.”

You raised your glass. “Well, who could say no to that?”

***

You slid your sunglasses to the top of your head, locking the car door and staring out at the vineyards stretched in front of you.

Jake had bought the vineyard, Carrboro Estates, three years before, right after Jenny died. In that time, you had only been home once, and even that was just a quick four days during Christmas break. This was the first time you were seeing the vineyard in person.

It was a Monday, the vineyard was closed to the public. As you walked down the stone path toward the Tuscan-style doors, you couldn’t help but see the resemblance between your parents' cliff-side house and the structure in front of you.

“Hello?” The entry was large, with swirled marble slabs on the floor, a two-storey tall wall of wine bottles to your left, a round table in the center of the entry area with a few sample bottles of wine. You stepped closer. A picture of Jake sat in the very center of the table, grinning and holding up a glass of wine, the sun setting behind him over the grapes.

He looked handsome. It wasn’t the first time you had recognized your father’s friend was attractive. But it was the first time as an adult you realized just how much of a commodity Jake must be, now that he was single.

“Sparky? I’m down here, staircase on your right.”

You followed Jake’s voice, down a hallway that opened up into a large staircase. Quietly, sneakers slapping against the broad steps, you made your way to the lower level, which opened up to an entire wall of glass doors, a patio sitting right outside.

“Pretty nice view, right?” You swiveled around. Jake was holding a glass in one hand, cleaning it with a white cloth.

You grinned. “Nice is an understatement.”

“Welcome to Carrboro Estates.”

“Fancy.”

Jake chuckled. “Come on, let’s do the tour and then have a drink.”

Jake walked you through the lower level, which held the outdoor patio as well as the kitchen. Upstairs, there was a private events and tasting room, as well as a bar. One half of the building had floor to ceiling windows with views over the vineyard, which cascaded down the hillside.

“I can’t believe you built this all.”

“Most of it was done by the time I bought the property,” Jake said as the two of you settled into a table at the edge of the patio. He uncorked a bottle seamlessly, tipping it into a wide mouthed glass, the red liquid dripping down the side leaving thin streaks. “I just made some changes, and then added on the house.”

“Where is it?” You looked around.

“About half a mile that way,” Jake replied, stretching one finger to your right. “Just below that hill.”

“Bet it’s lovely.”

“I’ll have you over some time for dinner. Hugo would like it.” You grinned. Jake set his wine glass down. “So the job. I’m looking for someone to be here when I’m not, essentially. You’d be front of house and back of house, which means helping with tastings, ordering supplies for the food menu, overseeing staff and helping me with some of the books. A little bit of everything.”

“I’ve never had a real job,” you confessed. “I mean, I was a TA at Uni, and a lifeguard that one summer before senior year, but that’s about it.”

“I’m looking for someone smart, that people like and want to listen to. You’re perfect for the job.”

You cocked your head to one side. “That’s it? That’s the interview?”

“I trust you,” Jake said and you looked up, surprised. His eyes were locked on yours. “What I don’t get is why you think you can’t do this.”

His words cut, but not because they were harsh. You found yourself shocked that Jake Seresin of all people could read you like an open book.

“What if I fail?” you asked quietly.

“At what, pouring wine?” Jake shrugged. “Open a new bottle. I don’t care if you break a hundred, fuck, a thousand bottles. Doesn’t matter to me, Sparky.”

“Not the wine,” you whispered. “My clinic.”

Jake nodded. “So that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“Terrified,” you admitted. “Excited. Every feeling in the book.”

“I was so worried the night before we opened that I accidentally got rip roaring drunk in the kitchen,” Jake said and you laughed. “Woke up the next morning at five a.m. on the floor in just my jeans and boots, no shirt. And had to open and welcome all the employees.”

“Does it get better?”

“Starting your own business is terrifying,” Jake said. “And it’s the best thing I’ve ever done. You’re going to be great.”

You smiled. “I’ll take the job.”

Jake tipped more wine into your glass. “Honey, your name’s already on the books. You’re working your first shift on Wednesday.” You blinked and Jake shrugged. “I said I needed help, didn’t I? Besides, this place needs some warmth in it. I think you’re exactly what we’ve been missing.”

Tag list:

@lyn-js @seresinhangmanjake @bobfloydsbabe @blue-aconite @clancycucumber230 @dempy @allbark-no-bite @teacupsandtopgun @na-ta-sh-aa @katiedid-3 @bradshawburner @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @rosiahills22 @emo @horseshoegirl @eminyourjeans

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anders-jjk-drabbles · 4 months

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𝒫𝑜𝓁𝓎!𝒮𝒶𝓉𝑜𝒮𝓊𝑔𝓊 𝓍 𝒢𝒩!𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇: 𝒮𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝒟𝒶𝓎

ᵃᵘᵗʰᵒʳˢ ⁿᵒᵗᵉ: ⁿᵍˡ ᶜʰ ²⁶¹ ᴴᴱᴬⱽᴵᴸʸ ⁱⁿᶠˡᵘᵉⁿᶜᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉ ᵗʰⁱˢ. ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉ ᵃ ᶠⁱᶜ ᵒᶠ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᴿᵉ��ᵈᵉʳ ᵗᵃᵏᵉˢ ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᵒᶠ ᴳᵒʲᵒ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴳᵉᵗᵒ. ᴺᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁱˡᵉʳ ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ ⁿᵉᵉᵈᵉᵈ!

Synopsis: Typically you were the one who always got sick, but when you woke up this morning, it was Satoru and Suguru both who fell under the weather!

Content Warnings: illness (implication of being chronically ill), Use of terms like but not limited to, "mucus". For those who are easily disturbed by words like 'snot' I kept that light and there's nothing super explicitly there. Gojo and Geto refer to the reader as 'bunny'. No use of reader or Y/N. Brief mentions of Jujutsu world and society. Nothing too serious.

ᴾˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ˡᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᶠ ᴵ ᵐⁱˢˢᵉᵈ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ! ♡

word count: 1.4k

You were used to getting sick. The fevers, chills, mucus, etcetera. Between Satoru, Suguru and you, more often than not it was you who caught whatever plague was rampaging through Tokyo at the time. Whenever you were sick, the two men pampered you in their own little ways.

Suguru, who always made sure there was a pot of your favorite homemade soup hot on the stove. Who checked your fever with a kiss to your forehead, and would braid your hair back to keep it out of your face. While Satoru, would be the first to bring you meds and a bottle of water. He would sit with you for hours, holding you close while you binge-watched shows together. Whenever you would sigh and explain to him that he would get sick. Satoru would give you his signature shit-eating grin and tell you, “Don’t worry, bunny. Suguboo and I are the strongest. So we won’t get sick from a little measly cold.”

That was, of course, until both of your boys woke up sicker than dogs this morning. Satoru’s face was bright with fever, and Suguru was coughing up a lung. Whatever they had brought home, it hadn’t gotten you. Both of them were completely out of it. Satoru was a clingy mess, hugging your thighs as he burrowed his head into your lap. Gently, you stroked the strands of sweat-soaked white hair from his forehead. He sniffed loudly, voice nasally from congestion, “Bunny— why does this fucking suck so bad? You never act this miserable when you’re sick.”

From the opposite side of the room, Suguru sat at the dining table, his head covered with a towel as he leaned over a bowl of steaming water. At Satoru’s whine, he lifted his head slightly, long black hair braided down his back in a French braid. A loud indignant sniff filled the room as Suguru grumbled, “It’s because, Satoru, they’re always sick. When you’re used to something it gets easie—“ His teasing chide was cut off as he released a hacking cough into his elbow. A groan escaped his lips as he returned to the head-sized cavern of steam he trapped himself in.

“My poor babies,” You cooed, smiling softly as you rubbed Satoru’s back soothingly. It was true. As you had grown up you got sick constantly, you grew used to moving about and just weathering through whatever storm came your way. If it wasn’t contagious and just part of your usual strew of symptoms and not knocking you flat on your ass— You still existed as if everything was almost normal. “Well ya know, angel,” You patted Satoru’s back to get his attention, “Suguru has the right idea. Some steam inhalation would really help.”

In response, Satoru only wrapped himself closer around you on the couch. A muffled whine pressed against your stomach you hardly understood other than his strong disagreement to the idea. “Can’t hear ya, baby.” You giggled, pulling his hair slightly until he blinked up at you with his pretty blues and a sweet pout.

“Don’t wanna.” Satoru huffed, sniffing indignantly, “It feels weird. Makes my head too hot and it makes me more miserable.”

You snorted at his response, rubbing Satoru’s back soothingly. Turned out that when the strongest sorcerers got sick, they were whiny. For a while you sat there with Satoru, holding him close as he sniffed and coughed into your lap. Suguru hunched over the bowl, coughing and hacking. With a pat to Satoru’s shoulder, you murmured, “Okay, Satoru sweetie— I need to get up. I’m gonna make you both some soup.”

He whined again, pressing his forehead against the flesh of your stomach, “Nuh-uh. I’m cold and you’re warm— stay, bunny, please.”With a laugh, you shook your head slowly. “Just a little longer…” You promised easily, rubbing the back of his neck, causing contented little groans and whimpers to escape his pretty lips. A few more moments pass as you agreed and sat with him for a few minutes longer but their combined sniffing and miserable faces was more than enough to convince you. They needed something to eat here soon—

So with a huff, and a whine of protest from Satoru, you pushed him off of your lap and back onto a pillow on the couch. “Rest, honey.” You gave head an affectionate pat as you walked past him into the kitchen. It took you a few minutes to decide what you wanted to make, going through the cabinets and fridge as you looked through ingredients and spices. As you bent over to pull out a stock pot from the cabinet, Suguru’s hands squeezed your hips affectionately as he pressed his forehead against your shoulder blades, “Thanks for taking care of us, bunny.” He hummed in the back of his throat, as you straightened up and he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. Compared to earlier, he definitely sounded less congested.

The little moment in the kitchen was interrupted by Satoru’s loud groan from the couch, “Can one of you at least come and hold me? I’m miserable over here.”

Both Suguru and you burst into a fit of laughter. He kissed your cheek and left the kitchen to join Satoru on the couch. While they settled in you hauled the pot onto the stove and got started on the soup. Meanwhile, Digimon’s theme song started in the background, bringing a sense of warmth and continuity to your chest.

Last time you had been struck down by a nasty flu, to help you feel better Satoru had put on Digimon because the show always helped him. You never minded, not truly. When you were sick you’d drug yourself and fall asleep to the Digimon battles. Hardly ever, did you really pay attention to whatever was on the TV when you were sick. Hearing it now and the disjointed sneezing and coughing from the next room was just a mildly humorous reminder that even the strongest sorcerers need to rest and recoup.

As the soup came to a beautiful finish. The smell wafted through the apartment. You peeked around the corner, mouth open and ready to call your boys that food was ready and to ask if they wanted anything else with it. Only to see them passed out on the couch in a tangle of limbs. Satoru’s head was tucked in the crook of his boyfriend’s neck while Suguru had an arm and a leg thrown over the white-haired sorcerer.

A small smile formed on your face as you quietly snuck over. You picked up a folded blanket hanging over the arm of the couch and draped it over the both of them. Just as you turned around to head back to the kitchen- a large hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging softly. You look back only to be met with vibrant gazes of violet and blue.

Satoru’s hand held onto your wrist as Suguru reached for your other hand. Suguru’s velvety voice groggy with sick and sleep, “Come nap with us, bunny, please.”

How could you deny a request like that? A smile spreads on your face, “Oh… fine. Better not get me sick though.” You tease. Satoru huffed indignantly, as he pouted before yanking you into the cuddle pile. As you adjusted around, a sense of rightness filled your chest. It was natural the way you fit in their arms. The next episode of Digimon queued up right as your head found its spot on Suguru’s chest and held a tight grip on Satoru’s hand.

Turns out— Them being sick meant sick days for all of you. Within 48 hours of them waking up feeling sick and beginning to recover. You were sick once again. Surrounded by a pile of tissues, and a cup of soup from the batch you made a couple of days ago, you sniffed miserably once again> The fever they had been battling now sent chills down your spine. Satoru’s face was still mildly flushed with fever, wondering aloud how you were sitting up when you looked so dizzy and out of it. Suguru scrolled through TikTok on his phone to keep his mind off being ill. At least all of you got to be together. Sure it sucked being sick but being sick with them? Made all of it a bit easier.

Looks like the Jujutsu world would have to wait. For now, your sorcerers and you? You would rest.

Hope you all enjoyed!!!

Please like, comment and reblog!

#poly satosugu #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sickfic #gojo x reader #geto x reader #Anders Writes

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writers-potion · 5 months

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Hiiii

I don't know how to make the two love interest meet. I don't know if you understand without it actually being awkward or flat

Meet-Cute Ideas

Before I dive into meet-cute examples, let's look at some general tips for meet-cutes:

Four Different Kinds of Meet-Cutes

Pull/Pull Meet-Cutes where the two characters are instantly drawn toward one another.

Push/Push Meet-Cutes where they are opposites that push away from each other at first.

Push/Pull Meet-Cutes where one character falls for someone with no reciprocal interest (at first).

Neutral/Nervous Meet-Cutes where neutrality and nervousness create a cute scenario for characters destined to fall in love.

How to Avoid Cliche Meet-Cutes!

Subvert audience expectations by making them believe a cliche meet-cute is coming, and then adding a creative twist to make yours stand apart.

Place meet-cutes in unique locations.

Put characters in different scenarios and situations.

Meet Cute Ideas

A is in the waiting room of a hospital while their grandmother goes through a routine procedure. B walks in and sits across from A, head in hands, obviously distraught — “I lost the baby,” B whispers.

You accidentally sprayed them with yogurt when you opened the lid the wrong way.

Studying at the same table in the library, you see they are pulling the same study resources as you.

They mistook your bowling ball for theirs in the shared ball return.

They caught you when you slipped on ice and nearly fell over.

Accidentally stepping on their heel in a crowded room.

You both do the side-to-side dance when you try to pass them in the grocery store aisle.

Humming a song and having them begin to hum with you without thinking.

Tripping while getting into your seat in the theater and spilling your popcorn on them.

You matched with them in an online chat roulette room.

Both of you wore the same ugly Christmas sweater to a party.

A likes to visit the local humane society to say hello to the animals. On this particularly normal day, something especially abnormal happens — one of the dogs speaks. “Help me get out of here, will ya?”

A finds a book of magic in their grandparents attic. A takes it to a Wiccan shop and hesitantly asks B, the shopkeeper, to take a look at it. B takes one look at it and in hushed tones asks, “Where did you get this?”

They cover the small amount of change you are short on for a purchase.

You both go to the counter, having the same type of coffee called for pick-up.

A is walking down the street and notices B, who is staring at a large graffiti mural, tears streaming silently down their face. The mural reads, “you are alive.”

They pull you out of the way from the busy bike path.

They see your ice cream drop to the ground and buy you a new one.

You see your favorite book on their desk during class and ask them about it afterwards.

You walk out of a dressing room asking if the outfit suits you, but it's not your friend waiting outside the room like you thought.

Almost spilling a drink because you met their eyes and got distracted thinking how cute they are.

Getting paired up in a line dance.

Happening to sit next to each other on a park bench, reading the same book.

Being paired up at a beginners ballroom dancing class.

Sharing an umbrella at a bus stop as it snows.

They get your attention and return your phone that fell out of your pocket.

You help catch their dog when the leash slips from their hand.

They ask you to pretend to be their date at a bar to prevent an ex from talking to them.

You help pull a loose thread off the back of their shirt.

Meeting their gaze after throwing a coin in a wishing fountain.

Sitting next to each other at a very boring meeting and bonding over your shared lack of attention.

You wear matching masks at a masquerade party.

Holding the elevator for them and getting off on the same floor.

Bumping into each other while trying to pass through a doorway.

They jump into your car breathless and tell you to keep driving.

You throw a snowball at a friend but miss and hit them instead.

The two of you wear costumes from the same fandom at a costume party.

You help a lost child find their parent together.

Walking into the incorrect bathroom and meeting eyes with them before quickly realizing the mistake.

You help catch their hat as it flies away in the wind.

The person sitting next to you on the train is wearing clothes that match your lucky colors from your fortune that morning in the paper.

They knock on your apartment door instead of your neighbor's.

You both reach for the last umbrella in the store on a rainy day.

You fix your hair in the reflection of a window to see them smiling at you through it.

You get scared by them in a corn maze and lash out and hit them, quickly followed by apologizes.

A spots B writhing on the ground in pain and rushes over to help them — but it turns out that B was actually just filming for a prank video. A gets so mad and upset that B is forced to calm them down as a crowd is beginning to form around them.

Texting the incorrect number but continuing the conversation.

A stops at the pub near their house to pick up some food on the way home (they make the best fries in the neighbourhood) when A receives a phone call – and some terrible news. A starts crying and B, the bartender, asks A what’s wrong. As A opens up to them, B gives A a drink on the house, and helps talk them through it.

You both reach for the final donut in the case at a bakery.

Getting paired up on an amusement park that requires even numbered riders.

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weirdmarioenemies · 7 months

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Name: Googles

Debut: Webkinz

What a cute silly plush duck! Right? WRONG! Goose? INCORRECT! This is no duck. This is no goose. This is no animal we have in our world. This is a Googles, and you have never seen anything like it!

Webkinz, as you likely know, is one of those 2000s Virtual Pet Worlds, with the gimmick of buying a real plush animal that would allow you to play with that animal in the game. And I mean animal! For the most part these are all actual animals, or at least variants of them, like a dog with a watermelon color scheme, or a lion with a flower petal mane. There are also some mythical creatures like dragons, which, yeah, it makes sense. Of course kids would want to have one of those as a virtual pet!

Then there are the Zingoz, original little monster guys who get whacked with bats by bigger monster guys. I guess they're a little weird considering the setting, but "shape with face and limbs" is not on its own Weird. I have no feelings on Zingoz.

It is Googles that fascinates me so much! All of these real animals, some fantasy creatures, a few minor goofy monsters, and yet, there is Googles. They have ducks and geese in the game. This is not one of them. It is the mundanity of Googles that fascinates me so! Of all the things to be an original trademark species, they decided on a Kind Of Different Duck, and I delight in that.

But there IS a reason for Googles! A point of origin! It would have been FUNNIER if there wasn't, but it's ok. It still is nice and makes me smile.

In the 1980s, GANZ, the company that would go on to make Webkinz, released a series of funny little flat plushes, including this ducky one! And that name on the tag... that's Googles! From what I can tell, this whole series was known as Googles, and included other species, like dogs and walruses, but these duck-billed bowling pins were the most popular.

So for Webkinz, they decided to revive one of their old, beloved plush creatures, bringing Googles to new generations while not telling them about its origins, making this silly fowl a strange, mundane mystery! And THAT is all you need to know about the taxonomy of Googles.

youtube

At least, that's what I thought until I found out about this official animated music video for babies, that repeatedly refers to an individual Googles as a PLATYPUS. Platypus?! Where's the TAIL? That's one of the most important features to represent! Their bills certainly are broad, but I assumed it was just a stylization thing. And if platypus, where are their forelegs?

I do not accept this answer. I do not think I will ever find a satisfactory conclusion. I admit defeat, Webkinz Animated Music Video From 2010. You have bested me.

#googles #webkinz #not mario #funky friday #mod chikako #Youtube

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milunalupin · 7 months

Note

helloooo, 33centaurrii here! Decided to ask anonymously (though announcing myself beforehand defeats the entire point of being anonymous) because secondary blogs can't be used to send asks. I think that's rubbish and a hassle and it's borderline criminal that Tumblr hasn't found a way to optimize that in several years from its conception

I really liked your post-azkaban Sirius and was wondering if you could write something regarding him escaping Azkaban and reuniting with reader ...the catch is that he reunites with them in his animagus form — his fur is matted and growing in odd ways, he looks and somehow smells like he's contacted some kind of disease and he's panting like crazy as a consequence of his sedentary lifestyle in Azkaban. Reader doesn't know this! Heck, reader thinks he's someone else's emaciated stray dog :')

How angsty or how funny or fluffy this goes is totally free reign to you! I've been thinking about adult Sirius way too much for wayyyy too long that I just HAD to request it

— 🌿

ty for the request ily <3 i hope you like it !

— homecoming

post azkaban!sirius x reader ★ 1k words

With a wave of your wand, the sign on the door turned from 'open' to 'closed' and the potion shop was closed for the night. You did a quick walkthrough one more time to make sure you weren't forgetting anything, and stocked up on a few potions that you were running low on at home. Once more you flicked your wand about and the lights in the shop were off. You walked out the back door and locked up, buttoning up your coat as you started your walk home. The night was chilly but the skies were clear, allowing you to see your favorite star, the brightest in the sky.

The walk to your home wasn't terribly far, and you quite enjoyed the peaceful walks down the empty trail. Suddenly a high pitched whine stopped you in your tracks, your eyes going to a wiggling bush on the side of the road. You crouched down and got closer, just to find a bloody lump of dark matted fur, it's tongue lolling out with heavy pants.

"Oh Merlin, look at you! You poor thing, can I please help you?" you gasped, tears already forming as you looked at the weary dog. You held your hand out near it's snout to let it sniff you first, but the dog pushed its face into you hand, whining as it used all its strength to lick your arm.

"Where's your owner, sweetheart?" You frowned, only receiving another whine in response. You looked around for someone who might be looking for him, but the village had been practically empty the past few hours. The dog nudged your hand again, his dry tongue scraping against your fingertips.

"Hold on tight puppy, sorry but this may feel weird." You apologized, wrapping an arm around the animal as you whipped out your wand and quickly apparated home.

The second you arrived in your flat, you rushed around to collect your healing supplies, dropping them in front of the dog, whose eyes drooped tiredly. You were lucky you saw him when you did, his injuries were terrible and he looked like he was going to pass out any moment.

He had gashes and cut all over him, some rashes and boils the result of intentional poisoning. You muttered a quick Reparifors to revert any poison in his system, the dog letting out a large sigh and few coughs. You got up and ran to and from the kitchen to set a bowl of water next to him to drink, so you could get started on healing his other injuries while he rehydrated. You dabbed a cloth with some Murtlap Essence, gently pressing it to his larger cuts, mumbling apologies as he cried underneath you.

You managed to get the dog onto the couch on you were done with the initial healing and laid a blanket over him. His larger wounds were dressed and he looked a little better after a few bowls of water. You gave him a few scratches under his chin and picked up his bowl before walking into the kitchen to refill it. Walking back into the living room you stopped dead, the metal bowl falling from your hands and clattering to the ground, water spilling onto your rug.

On your couch sat a naked Sirius Black, the blanket thankfully laying over his lap. You stood frozen with your eyes wide, your heartbeat picking up as he sat there just staring back at you, anxiously biting at his chapped lips.

"What are you- I don't- How-" you sputtered, your breaths getting quicker as your eyes watered, unable to look away from the man in front of you. He was supposed to be in Azkaban, for Godric's sake, what was he doing here?

"Hey hey, slow down poppet, take a deep breath for me, will you?" Sirius was at your side in a second, one hand holding the blanket around his bruised hips while the other hovered over your shoulder, his tired eyes staring down into your own. "You're alright."

"I- Are you alright? How are you here, Sirius?" you sniffled, raising your hand towards his face, fingertips lightly brushing over his cheekbones as you tried but failed to hold back a sob. "Merlin you're real, you're actually here."

His arm came around you in an instant, his own body shaking as he pulled you close to him, pressing kisses into your hair. "Oh please don't cry, lovely girl."

Sirius held onto you until you became too tired to cry anymore, guilty and ashamed of the man - or rather, dog - he came back to you as. It wasn't easy escaping, no it was complete and utter hell. But the first place he thought of to go was to you, how could it not be. You had been the one to dry his tears the summer after his little brother had surrendered to the pressure of his parents and received the Dark Mark, the one who held him late at night in the astronomy tower when the letters with the Black family seal were too much to handle on his own. Of course, you were just being a good friend, maybe too good. Sirius could've never confessed his true feelings back then, he didn't know if he was stable enough to hold a relationship, and he wasn't going to risk losing you in trying, so he kept quiet. But twelve years later, your hands were still just as kind and gentle holding him, his tears dripping from the tip of his nose onto your head that held the most beautiful and purest mind he knew.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You whispered, teary eyes looking up at him.

He sighed softly and shook his head. "Tomorrow love, I think we're both a little tired after tonight."

You nodded and led him to your bedroom, where you lent him some clothes to sleep in and pulled the bed covers back, sliding in and patting the space next to you. He slipped in beside you and let out a blissful sigh, closing his eyes for a moment to relish in the silkiness of your sheets and the plushness of your pillow. The two of you laid facing each other, studying the other's appearance. You reached for his hand and squeezed lightly, a sleepy smile on your face.

"Welcome home, Sirius."

#marauders #marauders era #marauders x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #sirius orion black #post azkaban sirius

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eddiemunsonbignaturals · 1 year

Text

just a pinch

summer ends way too fast; you and Eddie surprise each other.

includes smut, as in 18+ 6k words somehow lmao? most of it fluff best friends to lovers, and it gets a little gross in an arguably unsexy but very intimate way. you're not supposed to put anyone's mouth on your new piercing until at least two weeks out don't be dumb listen to your piercer

content: boob fondling, dry humping, jean nutting, some mild threats of violence, mentions of piercings but not piercing play to my understanding

reader is described as fat, dark skinned, and referred to gender neutrally, mostly (tough guy, man, angel, sweetheart).

comments (yes, even short ones,) reblogs all v much appreciated, take care :*

So, the heatwave had been a fake-out.

You had both expected more swim-days. Just a few more sweaty, sticky nights— sat too close and tangled together sharing a bowl of Moose Tracks by moonlight, in as little fabric as you could manage and with as much ice as one freezer bucket could hold.

But alas, the fall sneaks in one cloudy morning and makes you regret ever even thinking the word “winter.”

You’re shivering as you shock awake and roll clumsily to the nightstand. Reaching blind for the blaring landline, your hand cringes away from too-cold plastic, and you groan long and low in mourning— it's definitely over. While you were asleep, Summer had packed up her bag and ducked off in the dark before you could send her off properly. Goodbye, dog days.

Hello, caller. You know it’s Eddie before you pick up; he knows it's you before you speak.

“Can you believe this? Shit fuckin’ sucks,” he croaks, right off the bat and into the receiver.

“And blows—“ you sigh back, punching one satin-covered pillow and your headscarf off the bed. “We couldn’t even get, a like, temperate couple of days? It had to go straight to freeze-my-dick-off immediately?”

“ha! Please. The end is nigh, sweetheart. You know it better than I,” he almost sings. His sleepy lilt catches on the pet name, and that gravelly morning timbre gees up your morning wood like nothing else can. You kiss your teeth, honestly annoyed at how he affects you this early, and when Ed’s answering chuckle rumbles through your ears and down your jaw, it's like you can feel his breath through the phone.

God, he sounds good. You hum into a long sigh as he talks. It warms you, everywhere, hearing his voice first thing, and if your non-phone hand drags down your chest and reaches lower to rearrange the pillow between your legs, he doesn’t need to know.

You hear Eddie fidget, as he does, and he switches the phone to his other ear. Then, there’s the rattle of the earrings against plastic– a few chunky hoops he got at your suggestion, and one with your first initial that he definitely plucked off of your desk, though he had lazily denied it. You feel a smile fight its way to your face, suddenly giddy about him, about his call.

A snapshot of him talking himself awake is as clear in your head as the grey in the sky: a grumpy Munson, emerging from the mess of gifted homemade blankets and ancient, flat pillows. Just a pair of doe eyes, framed by a cluster of chocolate curls and a scowl. Picture-perfect.

You’ve been nursing this damn crush forever, and with the effort of punching it off the bed and out of sight with that headscarf, you’re long past exhaustion. But, in the safety of your chilly room, and with the comfort of his voice in your ear, maybe you’ve enough strength for now to entertain a butterfly, or ten.

You had worn his ring to bed— a little bat hugging your ring finger the way it had been hugging his before you’d snatched it off as payment for a dare gone unfulfilled–and you’re twirling it now, like some lovesick sap. You’re written all over each other, and you’ve been itching to do something about it. But, that’s not the issue right now.

Right now,

“I know, life is over, the globe is warming, there are only a few summers left, et cetera. We’ll still have fun.”

(the dare? you had challenged him to snatch some Hawkins PD pig or another’s goofy little ranger hat as he had passed the two of you on the street. Eddie had suggested maybe he couldn’t float past an arrest on boyish charm this deep into his twenties, and acquiesced without a word when you had held out your hand for his own.

You’d pretended not to notice the blush creeping up his neck; he had let you hold his hand a bit longer than necessary. It had been an even trade, as always.)

Across the line, Eddie’s still snickering at you, voice fathoms deep– all crackly– when he speaks again.

“Hold on to your dick, angel, I'm pretty sure there’s options. Like, uh, maybe clothes? Clothes usually work for me.”

“Don’t get cute! I'm fat, you clown, I sweat-- I don’t need clothes. And, I belong in the water, Munson. Its beyond fun, its—“

He cuts you off completely, ignores your scoff, and finishes for you.

“—fulfilling, healing, its what and where you were in every past life, the brain sludge is already building back up as we speak, and ‘I’ll die, I'll just about fuckin’ die, Munson,’ once it drops below 40, I know, stop bitching,” he laughs. His tone? Pure fond; your stomach somersaults.

You hear the smile widen when he goes on to remind you, “but I guess it's fall now. IE, your favourite.”

“Say ‘bitch’ to me again, I’ll shave your peanut head.”

He takes it back, giggling something about his favourite tough guy, but you know he’s got you there. You definitely are bitching, and—

Halloween month, cider season, big soft sweater weather, rain? It is the best, but it's never too early to argue.

“You’ll love it, angel.”

You give up, melting again at his affection verbalized. You’re humming assent as he keeps the ball rolling, asking what you’d like to do today instead of going for a swim. Come over and take turns reading the new discount novel he found? Start that mead recipe you made last year? Drive over to Stobin’s—see who can sneak in and scare the shit out of them first?

All great ideas, you assure him, but you decided long ago that the End of Swim also marked the beginning of piercing season. Your safety moratorium on body mods of all kinds has been lifted, now that you can’t dip your fresh wounds into scummy lake water.

You've been planning a particular pair for some time. You also decided that it would be a surprise. Your Eddie is observant, dialed in, and sure, maybe you like to play the odd game here and there. He notices you, and you notice right back. How long, do you think, will it take for him to note a new set of nipple piercings if you don’t warn him first? You figure it’s time to test it.

So, you break his heart a little, and decline to hang out today after all. You’ll see him on your next day off, you promise, and make plans for “four days hence, Munson, quit bitching. I just remembered something else I need to do,” before hanging up on his protests and pulling on your first pair of sweats in 4 months.

ID, water bottle, and a sweet breakfast in tow, you head for the best (note: only) tat shop you know, braced and ready for a world of pain, going boldly into the cold.

—---------

And there had been almost no pain, at first. You had yelped girlishly before the first needle went in, then felt embarrassed about how easy and quick it had been. Before you had even realized, it was over, and you grinned big at the unique beads framing each pert, dark nipple. You loved them. You loved the piercings, and more than ever, loved your tits. Couldn’t wait to go home and check them out from every angle, actually.

Then, a malicious towel snag, a careless door-jamb bump, and a hateful sweater-thread later, you were fearing for your life. Over the last few days, you had taken to crouching around them a bit, arms wrapped loose around your stomach as a reminder and for protection. Your nipples were insanely sensitive, now more than ever, and you had never understood ‘til now how often you simply walked through and into things instead of just around.

But, they were calming down, and with each prescribed saltwater soak you breathed a sigh of relief at the lack of visible irritation. The standard piercing boogers notwithstanding, they looked hot, you felt hot, but found yourself nervous for the big reveal. You thought you would hide them well, your mission made easier by the cool weather and baggier shirts it allowed.

You’re in his room now. Eddie’s ideas had been good, but you had both decided on the usual– you, rocking up to his trailer and spending the day with him throwing food and trading theories, hours whiled away in artistic pursuits and cat-naps, never too far from one another. It’s been a good day– you’re doing such a good job with the piercings, you forget to hide how entranced you are by Eddie's hands.

“Aren’t you hot?”

You count the veins and tendons as they flip pencils and drum against whatever surface they encounter, try to guess how long he can go before he bites that right pinky nail too short again, wonder if he’s running hot today. He’s tactile, your Eddie, but you’re sitting on the floor, legs sprawled, and yeah, a little too warm in the hoodie you came in as he lounges on the bed– too far for his idle touches to distract you into admitting anything.

You love those hands. You want to taste them one day. He’s looking at you.

Fuck, wait, he’s looking, and you haven’t answered him. You cut your eyes away, to the floor, to your nails, like an idiot. That wasn’t at all suspicious, sure. You’re reasonably sure Eddie hadn’t noticed the piercings themselves yet until, as you snack and he chats again about his sketch, he suddenly drops the pink eraser you’ve been watching his square fingers systematically tear apart.

“N...Noooooo.” He takes in your belated answer and eyes you for a second, then starts talking again. You tug your hands gingerly into the hoodie you’re in and slide the thing over your unwrapped cloud of hair without snagging anything, then toss it away, wiping the light sheen of sweat you realize is cooling on your nose.

Fuck, here we go. You hadn’t considered you’d have to hide in conversation, just that you had to keep him from seeing. You try to keep your cool, but answer too quickly. This wouldn’t last long.

“Have you been eating weird shit again?” Eddie asks, cutting himself off from explaining the lore of his latest campaign villain. He’s sitting up more since you last looked at him– leaning back on one elbow as the other arm drapes comfy across his belly– and watching you fidget in that weird posture you’ve adopted since the piercings.

“Eat– We–, me? Weird? What’s– What?” Nailed it. Smooth, like butter. Too player. You thank God or Dolly or whoever’s watching that your blush isn’t visible, because you can already feel your face heating up.

He stares, eyes squinted. You watch your plate, then look back at his lovely hands, fingers pale and impatient, thr-r-r-rumming in sequence against his now-closed notebook.

“What’s with the air-head act? And why are you clutching your tummy and moving like you fell down the stairs?” Okay, that one’s easy.

“Cramps.” Your reply is stiff, but reflexive. The pink in his fingertips as he drums is entrancing. Maybe you’ve saved it– you think you sound sure. He’s silent for beat, and you pick up a cracker and look out the window. Maybe you’re a genius. The fuck’s he gonna do? Argue?

“Hm. Bullshit?” You look up to challenge that, and catch him peering behind you to the stuffed possum you had gifted him when his favourite, real, live, wild possum friend stopped her brief shuffle through the fire pit behind his trailer one drizzly day.

(Eddie had called it the best week of his life, then declared that he’d never love again.)

After another beat, as if the scruffy thing has read the room and confirmed its answer, Eddie nods once, curls bouncing, then swings his neck dramatically back to you to assert, “bullshit.”

It's panic creeping up your throat now, because he’s going to see you, see them, this isn’t– well– it is– but you didn’t think it through, and you aren’t a good enough liar to dodge the impending question. You hem for another moment, hands hovering over your torso, and he looks between them and your face before snapping his bulk upright so fast that the bits of pink littering his lap and thin muscle shirt fly up in the flurry.

“What’re you hiding?”

A frown tugs your lips down before you can stop it. You watch Eddie toss the notebook and, with a loud thump, collapse off the bed boneless into your nest of blankets and towards you like a mad slinky before you can finish saying, “nothing! I’m not– hiding–, wait a second!”

In that second, Eddie has slithered the 4 feet between him and you, kind of flinging himself on top, landing more gently than you expected in a straddle and pinning your now-closed thighs under his seat before you can wiggle back and away in time.

“Did you get a tattoo without me? You fucking did, didn’t you?” He might be verging on genuinely hurt, by the sound of it. You’d promised after he’d started his stick-n-poke journey that he’d be your first, (tattooer, that is), once he got some training together. Had swore to him–

“Le’me see– what, is it that shitty? Who the hell did you go to? You can’t be–”

“Ow, Eddie, stop!” Your screeching protest belies real pain this time, curling in on yourself and to the side as much as possible. He bumped a piercing in the shuffle, the pain expected but still shocking, and he backs off a bit and coos in sympathy, all his next words coming out in a frantic rush.

“Fuck, oh no, I’m sorry. I’msosorry, Sweetheart? Are you okay?”

You’ve crossed your arms in front of you, breathing deep through the stinging. As it subsides, he ducks his head to meet your eyeline, his paint-stained palms up, promising no contact. He’s still straddling you, most of his weight on his heels. Still locking you under him, where its very warm.

If you looked down and saw your heart itself beating its way out of your chest, you wouldn’t be shocked. You’re almost choking on it, and plotting how to get him off you without knocking the new piercings again. Its enough to spin your head, to think you’ve been found out this soon, that the bravado in your spirit has fled so quickly at the reality, not just the idea, the real life prospect of showing Munson your tits.

But it's thrilling, him on top of you. It's always thrilling, a dream fulfilling itself, isn't it? Even if the context is off. This isn't the first time a bout of “weird” from one of you or the other has ended up in a fact-finding mission– sometimes wrestling match, or pillow fight, or wild, short chase through the woods.

But every time he gets this close, it's like the path between your head brain to the other brain is cleared– heat is flooding the thin cotton that separates you from his well-worn denim faster than ever. He has to get up, right now. You have to keep him there forever.

You relax as the sting subsides, uncurling and groaning a bit as those strong, clever hands fall to bracket your head on either side. Eddie leans down, sounding the creak of floor beneath you, and scowls, bathing you in his radiating heat. Studying you, taking in your full lips pressed into a thin, nervous line, your brows turned up where they’d meet, betraying distress.

“What is going on in there, man?" He's really worried now. When did you start keeping secrets?

“It’s…not a tattoo?” You purse your lips and scrunch your nose, and the sweet smile that flows like syrup across his face seems involuntary.

“Then what else– huh?” Eddie is trying to keep eye contact, but the wheels are turning, and his lovely smile drops. He glances at your arms crossed over your chest, and his jaw falls open, eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“Not a tattoo. Not ‘a’ anything, actually. Two things.”

“No, you didn’t. No way, not a chance.” Eddie seizes your wrists and ignores your protests, pinning each arm by your ears where his once were, and tries to x-ray inspect you through your shirt. It's dark, but not thick enough to weather this kind of scrutiny. Those telltale bumps are right there in front of him, the middle of each trio hardening as he inspects. So, you give up trying to argue, and shrug, suppressing a smile.

“With— wha?” Eddie’s looney-tunes double-take makes you hoot a laugh as he swings his head and bouncy curls up and down, looking at you, glancing back at your chest, and up again as he processes what he’s hearing. What the fuck is he hearing?

Your eyes stay low but your brows arch together as you scoff at him, dork. “You’re really telling me you hadn’t seen them?”

“I’ve– not–wha– I’m sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean–”

But, you had been talking shit. He couldn’t have seen anything in the dark shirt you had been wearing all day unless he’d been staring when you weren’t looking– had he been staring at your tits anyway?

Did he do that often? Your jaw doesn’t drop so much as glide mischievously open. Surprise dawns and Eddie realizes he has, in fact, given himself away too quickly. Coolest dudes in Hawkins, you two.

He changes tack, slapping the floor by your head, still a little shocked.

“You got your nipples pierced? I don’t believe that. I don’t believe you! You’re full of shit.” His voice is almost petulant in its disbelief, high and tinny.

Your eyeroll is audible, “I mean. I can prove it, Munson.”

“When?” He gasps, indignant, and slaps the floor with the other hand.

“You barely have your ears pierced-“ he exaggerates. “Who the hell did ‘em? Was it a guy? You let some guy–”

“Please, some professional? Can you be serious?”

“You can’t take the pain, angel, not without my moral support, there’s no way. You’d have been whining about them being sore all fuckin’ week if you’d gotten your—“

He looks at your tits again, jaw slack, but in his shifting sends them undulating with the movement. His whole body goes still, except to inhale very slowly.

You’ve maybe never been this self conscious in your life, but his distraction emboldens you.

“The idea was ‘surprise’, not ‘ambush’. But,” you drawl, smirking as you twist a wrist easily out of his now slack grip and push yourself up onto your elbows.

“Do you—well.” Your eyes falter when your voice does. You want to offer proof. You’re not that bold yet, but you’re working up to it.

He gives you room to sit up completely, hovering over your calves, back almost on his haunches. His heat leeches into your legs, swells in your chest and behind your eyes.

You want to touch him, like you always do. Eddie's deep brown eyes are wider, his mouth slack. His breathing is a little harder too, and you wonder for a second— do you want to un-ring this bell while there’s time?

“No,” he answers. “I mean, yeah, I—“ He rolls his plush lips into his mouth and then parts them, trying to work out how to ask. It’s not a dare anymore, and you feel a shyness completely unfamiliar, laid out in front of your best friend in the world.

You wilt a little; Eddie finds his courage.

He swallows, and you watch his throat work while he figures out what to say, maybe as nervous as you are.

“Can I see?” He sounds hopeful, gentle, but to soothe you or himself, you can’t tell.

You dont quite answer with, “I’ll have you know, they didn’t hurt. At all, actually. It was...cold. Uncomfy, totally, but not painful— just a bit of a pinch? The last week has been worse than the actual needles were.”

Eddie seems to realize he’s really staring, and cuts his eyes to the left, almost shy, and he seems to wipe sweat from his palms down the length of his strong thighs.

Your own hands pick at the hem of your shirt, and his gaze is split between your mouth and chest. Then, he shifts his weight, leans back like he’s about to give you space, when you reach for his warm, toned tricep, his skin shifting over muscle as he fidgets, and you’re ready to tell him the rest of the story. You can’t bear to miss his warmth on top of you, you realize. Now or never, you think.

“I…” you croak, “I thought of you.”

You hear him choke, like actually choke on his spit, then watch him shake his head like he’s rattling himself out of a haze. Eddie’s locked in on your eyes, searching for even the hint of a joke as you lift the shirt up just your stomach, exposing all the graceful cresting hills of your soft middle to his hungry gaze.

“When I picked them out, I mean.”

“Youf, you– fuc– You did this for me?” He sounds so absolutely incredulous, and breathless, all bravado bled out, or rushing to his reddening cheeks. It's like Eddie opened the next Discworld and found a dedication in his name, like the heavens have opened above him. For him? For him?

“Not for you, you clown, of course not. But like, maybe I wondered which ones you’d say I should get. And maybe... I thought you’d appreciate my pick.” Your crooked smile feels small, and you feel like offering something more substantial.

So, you do.

“Appreciate..? I. Oh, god, Jesus, I.” You had been lifting your shirt so casually as you spoke, palms sliding up across your skin and dragging cotton with them, a caress so careless it seemed incidental. But you avoid hitting the new bars through each hardening nip, chills putting a mild tremble in your hands that he first catches, and is then distracted from. You watch Eddie’s short-circuit for a bit, feel his thighs tense around yours. You decide then that boldness is the only path forward.

At the last rounding, you let them hem of the shirt catch on the underside of your bust, and just before its dangerous, lift them up by the hem and then drop them a bit, so they bounce for him, putting on a little show, posture straighter than before in presentation.

You’ve killed him. His plush lips try and fail to form a word, any word, as he lets out another shakey breath and leans back in to you by centimeters.

“Eddie?” you prompt at his silence, voice quieter now. He’s still a little wide-eyed when he gasps out,

“What. Appreciate? Fuck, you’re beautiful. So, so beautiful. Jesus Christ, I never thought— Are those bats?” He’s moon-eyed and gaping like a dry fish, and you’re too keyed up to even tease him about it. You didn't just think of him, you conspired to match with him, to carry a little bit of him with you.

You know he wants to see you, more than just the piercings, and that teasing smirk is a distant memory, much like your patience.

“So you hate them, huh?” He’s shocked into laughing before you can finish the question, restoring the quiet to something like normal as he raises his ringed hands to frame the low curve of your breasts. But he takes them in only with his eyes, flitting back and forth between them.

“They look, so so good, so good, god. The color you picked, even,” a warm gold that picks up the warmth in the soft creamy brown of your skin, “it glows, like, perfect. Gold’s your color, Sweetheart. It's all your color.”

Bravado is fickle. You order him through barely parted lips, like you didn’t mean to say it out loud, then almost slur the hasty backtrack, “touch them. If-you-want, I-mean, if-you—.”

In Eddie’s mind’s eye, gold falls from the sky; from his mouth tumbles a bewildered, “'If i want?' Are you insane?”

As he reaches, you nod and sit up a bit straighter, feel heat rise in your cheeks, and take his confession with a crooked smile.

“I dreamt this.”

Here’s you, insufferably coy through a giggle: “Yeah? How’d it go?”

His own knowing smirk is back, and you shiver, wanting fathoms deep as Eddie's hot hands envelope the heavy mounds of your breasts from below, cupped in the way he had threatened before you granted permission. Eddie seems to weigh them as he holds you, committing to memory how the plush fat of them sits in his palms, how they pebble across with gooseflesh at his very gentle fondling.

You’re so soft, and warm, and he’s touching you; his mind splits in two. Some of him prays to any god for escalation, the rest could die happy right here.

On contact, you sigh together. Heavy, whispering things— you were both holding your breath— and inhale together, too. Your eyes flutter closed at the the drag of each body-warm ring as they poke into you. His calluses are almost sharp against you where they glide, some of the time ghosting over your skin, but mostly kneading you warmer.

It's your soft little hum of pleasure, how you arch, helpless, into his touch— the indiscreet rub of your knees together, and your thighs into his seat, the way you fight the smile back— these bring him back to himself, and he checks your face again, watching the small smile grow as your eyes flick up to his.

“Different,” Eddie intones, low and slow. “We’re out of order.”

You’re watching his pretty mouth again while he feigns serious, but as he moves just one hand to the floor behind you and leans in close, warm Cheez-It-breath tickling your face, setting alight every nerve that wasn’t already screaming for deeper contact. You meet his penetrating gaze and gasp at the pleasure-pain of that ringed thumb finally, finally, swiping up along one pert nipple.

It's a shocked moan, not a gasp, that opens your mouth as he collides with it, timed perfectly with the upward jolt of your hips into his hardening cock. It's Eddie’s turn to gasp— his rushes out hot and quick, as if from a gut-punch.

He's fighting for his life trying to steady his voice, act casual. “Usually, I get my mouth on your first.”

With that, he closes the gap again, but this time pulls away with a wet smack, a kiss so brief you’re compelled to chase him and get your licks in.

“Then, my hands,” he says, as he closes his fingers around as much of you as he can grasp with each hand to squeeze. Its at once electrifying and comforting, leaning into him and running from the cold. You want him pressed against you completely, but he's focused on the pillows of supple skin and heat in his hands.

“Promise,” he chokes, “ahhh, promise to tell me if it hurts, angel?”

“Eddie, touch me— I promise— touch me,” you positively beg, and your Eddie, egged on by your fingers now pulling deliciously at the hair on his sensitive nape, recovers fast. He’s on you before he can take his next breath in, and bites down around your bottom lip, pushing you with him gently as he leans forward, mashing your noses together.

And you kiss Eddie back, hard, sucking his trembling lip between yours and earning yourself a groan that sends a lovely buzz through your jaw where you meet. That fucking noise, and his hand still on you, now not as gentle, sending little shocks of pleasure as he swipes gently along the outer dark ring crowning your nipple. The skin there is tightening, growing impossibly sensitive, and each brush and nudge shocks you between your clamped thighs, makes your body rock a little, sending kinetic energy across you that has him enthralled. So much evidence of his effect on you, the movement anchors him to reality.

"Good?"

"Really good, Eddie, yeah." You squirm under him as he massages one side, then both, then rests his forehead against yours to gaze down, intent on his project.

“You feel good too, angel,” Eddie groans again, enjoying himself in earnest, crowding you gently together, then letting each breast roll in his hands, rough digits brushing in tandem against beads so taut it almost hurts, so intense its almost too much, but you need more.

“You know what’ll feel even better?” You ask him in a pant, breathless and focused– you need him between your legs too, and desperately, so you nudge one of his, asking to widen so you can rearrange. Eddie obliges, planting one solid knee right against your aching core and letting you fall back, propped up on both elbows.

Neither of you wastes a second. This kiss is a hot, wet collision of sighs and spit, grinding sloppily into each other through just too many layers of sweet, stiff friction, whining into each other’s open mouths.

While you nearly lift your hips off the floor, chasing the worn denim between your legs, tension in your lower gut building faster than it ever has alone, Eddie rides your linen-covered thigh just above your bent knee, murmuring between love-bites to your chin, the chubby apple of your grinning cheek, then the crook of your neck, where he finds and then latches onto a spot that makes you seize under his weight, clamping your thighs around the one at the very center of your focus.

You clasp a hand at the back of his head again, scratching a bit at his neck and forcing a long shaky sigh out of his mouth as the rhythm of his swirling hips grows rough, devolves into a stuttering staccatto race to the finish, and he’s talking himself through it into your shoulder as you barrel him down.

Ed's heaving whines are gorgeous, ragged, as he sighs into your neck about how good you feel under him. He can’t finish a sentence as he groans into your shoulder, all about how good you smell, how he can’t believe you did this for him, how badly he wants to taste them.

“Taste? I,” you cut yourself off with a near-panicked whine when his leg slinks heavily down, the relief of his wet but still straining crotch-tent another brief sliding kiss against your now soaking cunt, and you resist seizing him by the scalp, to keep him up with you, but only just. You’re both so close; he’s stalling?

No, tasting.

Through your horny fog, your mind starts to process his goal. Eddie works his body down yours urgently, never really breaking contact, and as he slips away all you can do is watch him watch you.

In a thrall, as he draws a scalding trail of open-mouth kisses down the heaving swell of your exposed breasts. The wet kisses cool fast in the chilly air of his room, and it feels so good you don’t care how needy your sighs sound, how obscene and high your breaths echo in your own ears. Then he pauses in his descent to admire you again, breaking eye contact for a few awe-struck moments, dropping a chaste peck just left of the left nip, then resting his forehead on your sternum. When he fully squishes your tits into his cheeks it makes you laugh out loud, and you feel his smile and then chuckle against your stomach.

He seems to paise there for a few moments, content to nuzzle, and your high whine-sigh takes even you off guard. Eddie looks up at the sound but stops himself saying whatevers on his mind. Instead, he double-takes between your mouth and chest once, and again, then and finally asks, “sweetheart?”

He’s got that look like he’s up to something, and you can’t say you mind it.

Eddie drags his lovely nose across the wide valley between your bust, your shoulders cave a bit with the shiver, and he continues, “can I?”

Taste. Yes, “please, Eddie, yeah,” and he closes his hot mouth over one hard bead, swirling that devilish tongue around and over, knocking it roughly enough to pull a harsh hiss from between your clamped teeth. Your hands are both in his hair again, and in a little pain you pull at his sensitive scalp and feel the buzz of his moaning around you, closing the little pleasure circuit between you.

You feel every wet swipe of tongue like a brand, on your sensitive chest and melting, shocks of heat driving down in your sex, chasing the pressure and pushing your body into his chest where he lays against you.

One of his hot hands mimics his mouth’s rhythm on the other tit, and the lewd sounds of his deep moans around you are only matched by the obscene slick of his hand finding the soaked core of you under his torso, his fingers tingling over the used cotton.

You nod assent before he can even ask, catching his eyes as he pulls away from your chest to check on you. He finds your open pant, you low lidded attention on only him, and smiles. Then, he grinds his own hips into your leg where he straddles it, lower than before, moaning again around your mound and sucking this time, a new kind of pressure that pulls the neediest cries from you yet. His fingers finally breach your underwear from the side, and the calloused contact jolts you to the precipice, climax just within reach now that your clit has direct, emphatic attention.

His tongue swirls faster, and Eddie matches that pace with his slick fingers between your cunt lips, circling the trigger and nudging just the top of your gasping hole, pace quickening, just what you're begging him for. Your free leg hitches around his back and pulls him into you, then you clamp up and pull hard at the hair in your grasp, gasping his name over and over as you come shaking, curling around his head, pussy drooling on his rings and wrist, hips frantic in their desperate chase for friction.

Eddie’s not far behind, rhythm incomprehensible as he’s distracted by his own big finish. He bites down almost too hard around your breast and fucks down onto your trapped leg, groans buzzing through you as he drools and sputters and comes a warm wet mess into the washed-out black.

The grey light is blinding, you can’t open your eyes at first. But you start to collect yourself when you feel him pull off, sliding his hand slowly out of your panties. You open your eyes to him watching you again, eyes half closed, to him catching his breath, and with no regard for the mess on his hand he gathers your collar in his fist and hauls you forward for another kiss, other hand tucked in the soft folds of your waist, grasping, clutching, pulling you in.

“Ouch.” You say, with no heat at all.

As he scoffs, Eddie slinks back down again to kiss it better, another gentle peck just to the side of the most sensitive bud of your breast where he sucked and nibbled hard enough to bruise. Just a pinch, indeed.

“Aw, I’m sorry, angel,” he promises, only a little sarcastic, and finally rounds his mouth around your right nipple, which he had neglected until now.

Then, you hear the slightest crunch. Like crumbs rubbing together.

Eddie smacks his lips a couple times, tasting, considering.

"Salty," he says. No way.

Oh, god, no. No fucking way. He still licking you clean but you freeze, then he does, but Eddie, knowing exactly what he just set you up for, loses it. He buries the cackle in your tummy as it dawns on you, and you do some quick math– you last showered this morning, which means you last soaked your piercing this morning, maybe 10 hours ago.

Eddie crawls back up your body as you wail, “ohhh, my God, Munson, why would you—? I cannot–” and lands eye-level, with you spent and boneless on your back, him in a table-top pose, arms propped by your shoulders.

He hadn't been neglecting your other side, he had been saving it.

10 hours. More than enough time for new “crusties” to form, so more than enough time to build your own nightmare from natural scratch. And he didn’t hesitate, or mention it at all, that your piercings were clearly crusted over as part of the usual healing process, he just sucked them off anyway like they were in the way.

“You– absolute– freak! Eddie what the fuck! Did you fucking eat it? Are you insane?”

“What? I helped! And it’s probably, like, I don’t know, nutritious somehow. Protein?” He shrugs, smirking in the face of your horror, your embarrassment. You hadn’t thought to look at your own tits when the idea of his eyes on you had been more than enough to deal with.

You punctuate every few words with sharp shoves, which barely register as nudges to him from your angle, still under him, fighting his weight and gravity itself. Little by little, he sinks against them, and you tire yourself out before his chest traps your arms between the two of you.

“You– sicko, I didn’t– give you permission– to snack on me.”

“You even said ‘please,’ sweet heart, no take backs. I believe they’re my boogers now.” His smile is just content now, mischief subsumed by all the love in his eyes. You were in his mouth; now you’re on your way through his system. He thinks its romantic.

He ate it. Like a weird pet left unattended too long, he saw something new and simply put his mouth on it. Your-- friend? hardly, you think-- Eddie Munson just ate the new piercing boogers off you, straight from the source as he came in his jeans. You don’t even know what to do, so bewildered you shove his shoulders and chest as rough as he’ll allow before he seizes your wrists and pins you again, only this time, your tits are still out.

“Without full knowledge, that’s twisted– you’re sick.” Your smile betrays you. What a weirdo, sure, but who else would full-send like that? You can’t think of anyone you’ve dated– anyone you’ve let touch you– that has ever been so close, and you haven’t even seen his cock yet.

God, what a freak– your freak, you think with a thrill.

“Yeah yeah, heard it before."

Its quiet for a bit as you stare at each other, smiles crooked and soft.

"Well. Cat’s out of the bag?”

“Seems that way.” So, there's your "what are we" convo' all sorted.

“Good. So you know— " Eddie ducks his head to tap his nose against yours, then pulls back again to hover a little closer than before, "clothes are no longer an option.”

“What. The hell are you saying.”

“I'm saying,” he whispers, suddenly against your ear, dragging out each syllable, and slides his thumb and it's cool bat ring now poking out of a soft fist across your collarbone and up your shoulder, just to see you shiver again, just to watch you shake.

“hu-.. what, Munson, spit it out!” Now, you grab him by both wrists, and the quick movement brings his eyes to your tits again, gold titanium winking in the gray light. The soft wave of your body warms his core. He's half-hard already just watching you move.

“Too late, ha.” You groan, still grossed out, and anticipating this, he groans with you, mocking. You feel it through your own chest, feel it down your pinned leg.

Then, Eddie’s voice is soft too, at once dreamy and deadly serious, when he says, “You,” drops a kiss on one shoulder, “were so, so right,” and another on the other, “you won't need clothes ever again.”

—--------------—

Its only days later, your next day off, when your favorite metalhead greets you at your front door. You don’t even have time to say hello before he’s flashing you; Eddie yanks his shirt up, fast as he can, to show off two glinting barbells, twin gold angel wings framing each nipple, still red and a little swollen from the piercing.

He beams at you, proud of the shock written all over your face, and before you can recover, cradles your face with one ringed hand and swoops in to plant one on your open mouth, grinning all the while.

#eddie munson x black reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #mine #every thirsty nasty stupid tag ive ever posted or texted my friends that got me kicked from the GC will become a fic one day cos like what #is the point of this otherwise #this has been edited a little cos the second i post i reread it again and find bits i meant ti switch around #eddie munson x plus size reader

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easyeat · 1 year

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For the general health of our pets, a proper diet and sound digestion are essential. By utilizing an elevated dog feeder, you may help your dog's digestive system in an efficient way. We'll talk about the advantages of raised dog feeders and how they may help your dog's health in this post. A raised dog feeder has several benefits, including better posture and a lower chance of stomach problems. Let's explore the subject and learn why buying an elevated dog feeder may significantly improve the digestive health of your pet.

#Dog Feed Station #elevated dog bowls #raised dog feeder #raised dog bowl stand #single raised dog bowl #large raised dog bowls #raised feeding bowls for dogs #raised dog food bowl #best dog bowls #best bowl for dogs #raised dog feeding station #flat faced dog bowls #dog bowl and stand #dog feeding stand #dog bowl with name #elevated dog feeder #personalised raised dog bowls #Feeding Trough For Dogs #best dog feeder

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06605 · 1 year

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NOISE

trent alexander-arnold x reader

summary: the reader wanted a late night snack..let's just say things get noisy.

pairings: trent alexander-arnold, reader

genre: fluff

a/n: someone tell me how to get 3 pictures aligned together on tumblr, mobile (comment or msg me) hopefully this makes up for me not posting for a week. this was requested by xevr, have a nice hiatus. <3 (feel free to request)

──────

You checked the time, it was 1:35 am.

You ran your fingers down your face, awakening up to reality, because you were so immersed in this book that you lost track of time and maybe disrupted your sleep schedule.

You turned around to see your partner, Trent, how calm he appeared, white disheveled sheets starting at his lower abdomen, dreadlocs tangled up against the pillow. Soft breathing coming from him, back muscles slightly tensed. He was quite the sight.

You put your book down on the nightstand and decided to fetch a snack before returning to it.

You got up cautiously, keeping an eye on the others' motions so as not to wake him up.

When you got out of bed, you kept your eyes on him as if you were approaching something hazardous and wanted to tread softly, and didn't pay attention so you stubbed your toe on the corner of the bedstead. (ouch. relatable.)

SHIT, you said internally; biting inside your mouth to refrain you from making any noise. Making a sour expression.

Trent grumbled quietly and turned to the left side; you paused for a moment before exhaling slightly when you heard him snoring again.

Limping, you headed to the kitchen of your shared flat.

"Dark as hell," you said to yourself. Luckily for you, the moonlight projecting through the balcony window saved you.

You observe Prince and Koba resting in their cages, which is excellent; another obstacle to avoid if you want to wake up Trent. The dogs are notoriously loud.

You stood your ground for a minute, thinking about a plan of how to get a successfully.

After some thought, you tiptoed over to the, your gaze shifting to the dogs. You stubbed your toe on your way to the kitchen.

CHRISSTTT, you thought internally once again. You quietly fell to the ground touching the toe that was stubbed twice.

You stayed on the floor for awhile gathering your thoughts, why do I do dumb shit, the hell is wrong with me, AAAAAAA— you stopped thinking and got up you limping got worse and it hurt to tip toe again.

Why the hell is it so quiet at night, you kept yourself steady on the kitchen island counter, and inhaled and exhaled 3 times and returned to finding a late night snack.

It was dark, like pitch dark, no moonlight no nothing. You relied on your hands to guide you the way.

You sighed again, recovering your calm. You took a step and saw that it was safe to take another, so you did. You walked 3 steps to the main counter, where you brought your hands and move them side to side.

OOPS—

You dropped something, trying to wonder what it was it that echoed, sounded like a platistic cup, why this shit still going, you thought to yourself and you bent down trying to track the cup.

You grabbed it and placed it on the counter. You sighed, you didn't recall that getting a late night snack would be this difficult.

You raised your hand, looking for the cabinets; you located one and opened it. You just felt plates inside it. You carefully close the cabinet again.

You made your way slowly to the island counter, moving your hands trying to find something, literally something edible at least.

Your hands made contact with a glass bowl, you brought it closer to you and felt was inside, it felt like fruits.

JACKPOT

You took a bite of the fruit, and dropped your head.

You swore that you were just gonna burst put in tears and laughter because of your stupidity.

It was fake; it was a fake fruit.

You removed your teeth from the decor, and dropped it on the floor.

You felt around the counter again trying to see if you could find anything again. You felt a bag, you grabbed it and inspected it. It was a chip bag.

THANK GOD, You opened your chips, they were loud. Feeling relieved, you ate one and crunched on them, feeling satisfied. You sat on the floor enjoying your chips happily.

You heard faint steps, becoming louder.

Click—

The kitchen lights opened, blinded by them you rubbed your eyes getting used to the lighting.

Busted , you thought.

"...babe?"

You grimaced, "..down here Trent"

Trent appeared from where he was standing; you could see him clearly; he was very adorable, wrapped in a blanket; like a burrito."

"Fucking freezing in here" He said, scouse accent thickening.

"Why are you on the floor...eating chips...at nearly 3 in the mornin'.."

You shrugged, "Late night snack?"

"Is that the reason why I heard noises coming from here?"

"Yes. stubbed my toe 2 times, 'ought to feel pity for me." You said reaching down to massage your big toe.

Trent laughed, you rolled your eyes.

He sat besides you, you two didn't say anything for awhile.

"I was trying to stay quiet to not disturb you from your sleep.." you admitted under your breath.

Trent kissed near the corner of your lips. "Thank you" he muttered in your ear, his breath hot near your ear.

"Now then, let's head to bed." He got up, giving you a hand to remove you off the floor.

extra

You opened to door to and made your way to the kitchen, and you saw Trent in his usual fitting white underarmour shirt, and grey sweatpants.

He's on his phone doing god knows what, and you've just bought new groceries.

After placing them on the counter, Trent put his attention onto you.

"What'd you buy?"

"Fruit."

"..fruit?"

You grabbed the platter of fake fruits and dumped them out. Muttering to yourself, "who the hell just buys fake fruit."

"It's for decor, babe. Trent stated

"Y'know last night I bit into one of these thinking it was an actual fruit."

Trent bursted out in laughter, you rolled your eyes and began replacing the fruit.

#06605 #football imagine #football imagines #trent alexander arnold #liverpool #trent alexander arnold x reader #I actually stubbed my toe TWICE last night.#football #laugh #I'm funny I know

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bewitchedme-body-and-soul · 1 year

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Puppylove

Synopsis: While on his morning jog Konig finds a scared Pitbull, he spends the next few days feeding and attempting to win over his affections. What he didn't count on though was someone else trying to do the same thing.

Word count: 2,594

TW: depictions of anxiety, hints of dog abuse and dog fighting. love at first sight type beat cause Im a romantic. maybe ooc konig? hes soft and timid, disgustingly sweet and cliche

A/n:I believe König has freckles and I will be pushing this agenda. Also shout-out to @humanalien01 for helping me

When off duty Konig liked to start his day with a jog, he’d wake up before the sun rose and be back as the sun was just beginning its climb. He lived not far from a short nature trail, the perfect place for a morning jog. This morning started off as it normally did, wake up, get ready for the aforementioned jog and leave. But once he reached the end of the trail, a quaint little pier over a lake, he realized something was different, usually he was alone as it was so early in the morning. He was quickly alerted to another presence, he observed his surroundings before he noticed a low growling. Turning towards the noise he noticed a pitbull cowering underneath one of the benches. Even though the dog was growling he could tell it was out of fear more than aggression, the ears flat to the dogs head, and tail tucked. Konig quickly understood why, the dog's face and body littered with scars, one of its undocked ears having a part missing. Ever the softy Konigs heartbroke, he loved animals even if they didn’t always like him.

The dog, though not quite skin and bones was obviously underweight and probably hungry, slowly taking his hiking backpack that he always brought along with him that carried a packed full first aide kit and various other items he may need. He hoped he had something the dog could eat, he knew he had water that he could dump into the dog bowl someone had left here for owners who brought their dogs hiking with them. Though probably not the best for dogs Konig found some beef jerky he kept as a snack in the chance he was too hungry to wait till he was home again. Quickly pulling some out and breaking it into some smaller pieces than the long strips he was sure the dog would try to swallow in one bite. He leaned forward slowly before placing the pile of dehydrated beef closer to the dog yet far away enough to not risk causing the dog to feel the need to bite him in defense, he then grabbed the dog dish and poured the contents of the water bottle into it and pushed it forward before backing up and sitting on the opposite side and pretending to pay the dog no mind but keeping an eye on it in his peripherals. He waited a good twenty minutes before the dog cautiously crawled toward the pile of food and ate it, Konig was right, the dog -which he could now tell was a boy- was indeed hungry judging by the way he scarfed it down. He then moved to the water and drank half before going back to his spot underneath the bench and back to watching Konig with a weary eye. Konig waited for another fifteen minutes before he stood and left. He'd stop at a pet shop later and pick up some cans of wet food for the dog.

Konig awoke the next day and went through the motions of his usual routine, this time included an extra step though as he grabbed a can of wet food and put them in his backpack along with extra water bottles and a second dog bowl he’d picked up. He also grabbed a used plastic shopping bag he could put the garbage in once he left. Konig had made the decision last night that he'd at least make sure the dog was fed, it was up to him if he would trust Konig and if he’d let Konig help him and take him home.

Once he reached the pier again he didn't spot the dog at first but he still filled up the bowl of water and opened the can of wet food and dumped it into the second bowel before placed it next to the water, and then reclaimed his spot on the opposite side once more and waited while watching the sunrise. Sometime later he heard a twig snap and his body went rigid slowly turning his head, he relaxed upon seeing the orange and white dog making its way towards the bowl of food. He watched the dog eat and lick the bowl clean before retreating to its spot under the bench and watching Konig once again. He waited a few more minutes before gathering the garbage and leaving.

This routine carried on for a few more days, the dog would come eat and then go back to laying under the bench opposite of Konig. Eventually though the dog grew braver and came and sniffed Konigs leg he had stretched out after eating and before going back to hide. Today was different though as when Konig arrived at the spot there was an old plastic tote laying on its side with a blanket inside and the dog curled up in it, he also noticed some left over dog kibble in the bowl. Someone else must run this trail and also took pity on the poor dog, ‘good’ he thought the dog deserved this and he hoped whoever it was would take good care of the pup if it chose them over Konig. A part of him hoped that wouldn't happen though as Konig was just starting to realize how lonely he was living alone. Shaking himself of those thoughts he emptied the can of wet food and topped off the water bow, before claiming his spot once more.

By the end of the week the dog had grown more comfortable with Konigs presence. Now coming and sniffing his hands, but not comfortable enough to let Konig pet him for more than a minute or two. Konig also took notice of the chew toys now in the dogs makeshift house, whoever else that had been coming had taking care of the dog when Konig couldn't, definitely loved the dog as well.

During Konigs second week of coming, visiting and taking care of the dog, the dog brought up a ball to Konig before dropping it at his feet and laying down and nudging the ball with his nose in an obvious effort to entice Konig into playing with him. Ever the sucker for a pair of puppy dog eyes Konig couldn't help but to indulge the dog and tossed the ball a few feet away, not wanting to throw with his full force in fear of throwing it too far for the dog to find. This introduced a new part of Konigs routine, after the dog ate they'd play fetch until the dog decided he'd had enough or Konig had to begrudgingly leave, Konig always felt bad on those days wanting nothing more than to spend the day there.

Another few days had passed and the dog was now licking Konigs hand and letting him pet and scratch behind his ears without problem. He’s even begun wagging his tail lightly upon seeing Konig, and it made a smile appear on Konigs face. Today was different though, for some reason Konig didn't get a great night's sleep and was not quite as energetic when playing with the dog. Something the dog absolutely picked up on, so instead of begging for his friend to continue to throw the ball he jumped up next to Konig and rested the top half of his body on Konigs lap and drifted off to sleep, Konig accidentally following soon after.

Konigs head snapped up as he awoke hearing somebody walking up the path to where he was. It was then he realized he'd fallen asleep, a quick glance at his watch showed it was almost noon. Konig wasn't the only one to notice the new person walking up, the dogs head lifted inquisitively before he jumped down and stood in front of Konig, in a defensive stance, hackles raised and growling.

“Are you okay Bear? You never growl at me any more.” Konig heard their voice before he saw them, the dog must have recognized the voice cause his defensive posture dropped and was replaced by a rapidly wagging tail. One of those tail wags that the entire body starts wiggling and he began doing what Konig could only describe as a happy dance, a grin on the dog's face and tongue hanging out the side of the dog's mouth. Konig couldn't help but feel a little jealous at the fact that the dog never got so excited to see him like the dog did with this new mystery person. It was then that Konig realized another person meant they would see him, and he wasn't prepared for that. As he was getting up the person appeared from behind the brush and Konig felt like his throat was closing from the anxiety coursing through his veins right now. The dog jumped in excitement at the new person wanting attention and head scratches. It wasn't till the dog ‘Bear’ as the new person named him got back down did they realize Konig was there. Konig braced himself for them to cower in ear just like the dog did when Konig first found him. But it never came, instead he was given a large smile, the kind where you eyes crinkle at the sides.

“Oh, hello! You must be the other person taking care of Bear, I was wondering when we’d finally meet. I’m y/n” they stuck their hand out for Konig to shake. Konig understands now why Bear got so excited upon hearing them approach, they were beautiful and Konig could tell by their demeanor and the light in their eyes that they must be kind. Konig’s sure if he had a tail it would also be wagging upon receiving attention from them, he was sure his cheeks had a dusting of pink on them.

“Konig.” he replied softly before gently shaking their hand, it was so much smaller than his. Unbeknownst to Konig though they were also enamored by him, they thought he was extremely handsome, from the way his copper colored hair shined in the sunlight, so his cheeks dusted with freckles and a soft blush. Even though his large size and the few scars that littered his face made him look frightening his eyes told a different story, they were soft and a little, they weren't quite sure what the emotion was but maybe apprehension? He reminded them of how Bear was when they found him, fearful and so used to roughness but wanting nothing more than softness. They were sure he was the most attractive man they’d laid eyes on, it didn’t help they were a sucker for an accent.

“I hope it's okay that I named him Bear, I just thought he was so sweet and cuddling once he came around, just like a teddy bear.” they grinned up at Konig, and Konig swore their smile could light up a room. They bet down to pet Bear again and the dog did its best to get in their lap and licked them as much as they could. Eventually they gave up and sat down completely, criss-crossing their legs. “You weren't fearful of him?” Konig asked before sitting down near them, but not too close still fearful that he'd scare them.

There was that bright, beaming smile was again, Konig was now convinced he could stare at that smile for hours. “I could tell he was just scared and hungry. I don't like judging a book by its cover, in my experience usually the scariest and most formidable looking people can be the sweetest, and only want someone to love give love too and be loved in return.” Konig wasn’t positive but he was pretty sure they weren't talking about the dog anymore and their words had a double meaning. He looked down as a blush formed on his cheeks, he heard them giggle, it was like music to his ears.

“Were you also hoping to take him home?” Konigs head snapped up at that, he wasn’t quite sure what to say, should he say no and just let them take the dog and never see him again, or should he be honest and risk upsetting them. He decided honesty would be the best course of action.

“I was originally but I travel for my work often, sometimes for long periods. Maybe it would be better if he went with you." He really didn't want to say goodbye to the sweet little guy but he knew leaving it for sometimes months at a time wasn't good. He could hire someone to come and take care of Bear or board him in one of those kennels, but if Bear had the chance to go live with someone who was more of a constant. Konig would feel awful, Bear was such a sweet dog he deserved the best. “Military?” Konig tilted his head in confusion before they spoke again, sensing his confusion “Your dog tags” they spoke pointing to wear the two pieces of metal hung around his neck, Konig didn't even realize they were visible, he nodded his head affirming their suspicion.

“Well what if we like, co-parent? You take Bear when you're on leave, and when you have to go I could take care of him?” it was their turn to be bashful now, a light blush coating their cheeks this time. They phrased their solution in a way that it would just be where they could both take care of Bear, which it was but they also just wanted an excuse to see Konig again. “I think I like that idea” y/n let out a breath they didn't know they were holding and grinned at the man across from them, excited at the prospect of not only getting to continue to see Bear, and now getting to see Konig as well.

“That’s wonderful!” they couldn't help the excitement bubbling out and Konig thought it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen. He was in the same boat as them though, not only getting to continue to see and take care of Bear, but now also getting to spend time with Y/N as well. They both stood up, Konig once again towering over them. “Oh, here's my phone, that way you can save your number in there and then when you’re about to leave I can come get Bear” Konig took their phone and doing as they asked. “I also have a collar and leash if you’d like it, i kept it in my bag for when Bear decided it was time to go live in a house” they'd taken one of their backpack straps off before moving it so they could get into it and begun searching through it trying to find the collar and leash.

It was then while neither of the two humans noticed that bear got up and walked behind Y/N, before bumping them with his butt so they fell into Konigs chest. Konig was quick to wrap his arms around her so she did not fall, y/n grasping at his shirt before steadying themselves and looking up at Konig. He was even more beautiful from this angle, the sun shining behind him making him look almost godly. Konig was in the same boat, the sun shining in their eyes making them sparkle, they looked ethereal.

“Konig?” he hummed in response, “kiss me? Please?” Konig didn't waste another second before cupping their face and pressing his lips to theirs. Bear yawned behind the pair as he laid down, his work here was done.

#they have bewitched me #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig #konig cod #mw2 x reader #modern warfare x reader #call of duty x reader #konig x you #konig x y/n

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