#Custom Dish Towels

[wolfsthreadart]

Did this set of dish towels for some family members as a gift!

They were super easy to stitch out and came out amazing looking :D

[pearlessance]

I'll Crawl Home To Her

summary: all the ways joel miller loves his pretty, little wife. and all the ways she loves him right back.

pairing: husband!joel miller x wife!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, traditional gender roles, pussy eating, vaginal sex, semi-public, exhibitionism kinda, dom/sub undertones, car sex, biting, dirty talk, joel is a certified munch, feminine reader, a whole bunch of tooth-rotting fluff

wc: 4.1k

note: something soft and sweet, tysm for reading, let me know what you think! <3

[masterlist] [read on AO3!]

Being Joel Miller's wife was, in short, marital bliss.

He loved taking care of you, and it showed in everything he did.

Joel always woke up earlier than you. On days he had to work, his alarm would rouse you just enough that you’d roll over to his side of the bed the moment he vacated it, soaking up his warmth and his scent, snuggling into his pillow. He’d kiss your forehead and tuck you in tight, and you’d fall asleep seconds after he whispered, “Have a good day, baby girl. Love you.”

And once you did finally roll out of bed, sunlight leaking in through the kitchen blinds, you’d find a fresh pot of coffee and your favorite mug sitting on the counter.

He worked long hours, but you could never fault him for it. He was doing it even in his old age to grant you the freedom to do any and everything you desired. Supporting you in all your endeavors no matter how fleeting.

When you’d picked up the hobby of gardening, Joel had taken you to three different greenhouses in one weekend and helped you till a section of the backyard to plant your seeds. And later that week, he’d come home with the back of his truck full of pretty white bricks to outline your garden with.

You’d mentioned once with your hands covered in suds how the dishes were your least favorite chore. You hated how they piled up so quickly, hated leaving them in the sink, how they felt never-ending.

“I can do the dishes, darlin’,” he’d said. “Just leave them for me an’ I’ll do ‘em after work every day.”

You loved him for the offer but refused. He already spoiled you enough as it is. You couldn’t imagine watching him standing at the sink every day after working for ten hours. “Are you crazy? No, I’d never let you do that.”

“Don’t bother me none,” he insisted. “S’only fair, considerin’ how good dinner is every night.”

The compliment made you flush, but still, you stood firm. Even when he’d come up behind you with a dish towel in hand, ready to take your place. You’d slapped his hands away. “Joel, no. Let me. Please.”

“Alright, fine,” he said, setting the towel on the counter. His hands found a new way to occupy themselves, though. Slipping beneath your skirt, squeezing at the softness of your thighs. “But at least let me get my desert.”

He’d had you bent over the countertop that night with your panties around your knees. He’d hummed his I love you’s against your spit-soaked clit in the middle of the kitchen and you’d felt like the most spoiled girl in the world. 

Even more so when he’d come home from work early the next day. He and Tommy walked through the front door with a brand new dishwasher in tow and spent all night assembling it.

Once, you’d been late coming back from the grocery store. Janet, the older woman who lived two houses down from you and Joel, had been berating the cashier for not accepting an expired coupon.

Confrontation had never been your strong suit, but it felt less like conflict and more like second nature to step in and defend a teenage girl just trying to do her job. You attempted to reason with Janet, explaining that it wasn’t the cashier's fault, that the use of her coupon perhaps just wasn’t meant to be. You’d even offered to pay for her entire shopping haul if it meant a break for the young girl. 

Of course, this wasn’t what Janet had wanted to hear, and she instead turned her anger on you. Your cheeks had warmed in embarrassment as she yelled your name aloud for all the other customers to hear, telling you to ‘keep your nose where it belonged.’ 

The whole interaction had frazzled you. But more than that, it had made you late. And while being screamed at so publically had certainly thrown you off kilter, the straw that broke the camel’s back was seeing Joel’s truck in the driveway when you got home. 

He had mentioned once how much he loved having someone to come home to. Had explained how seeing you standing there with a smile on your face waiting for him on the front porch every day made the long hours and unbearable heat worth it. But because of Janet, you weren’t there. 

Joel, your Joel—who always takes care of you, who would do anything for you, who puts your happiness above his own, the most selfless man you’ve ever known—had come home to an empty house. Worked twelve hours beneath the Texas sun to come home to absolute silence.

It didn’t matter that you’d left a note on the kitchen table, you’d meant to get back before he could ever read it.

The tears had come quickly. The embarrassment, the frustration, the anger you felt on that young girl’s behalf, came rushing to the surface all at once.

He’d left the door unlocked for you, like usual, and the moment you stepped inside you could hear the familiar, heavy sound of his boots on the wooden floor. “Hey, sweetheart. How was your—?”

Before he could ask any questions you’d flung yourself into his arms, needing comfort, needing to show him how much you loved him. To prove to him that you weren’t home but you wanted to be, more than anything. “I’m so sorry,” was all you managed to choke out. 

Joel, who valued your safety above all else, immediately stiffened yet pulled you closer, wrapping his big arms around your shoulders, his warm hand splayed across the small of your back. “Hey, hey—shh, what happened? Talk to me, sweet girl. C’mon.” 

He cradled your face in his palm, holding you gently as if you were the most precious thing because, to him, you are. He wiped your tears away with the rough pad of his thumb and listened as you explained, “I—I wasn’t here waiting for you! I’m sorry—I…I tried to come home as fast—as fast as I could but—!”

“S’okay, baby. I know you’ll always come home to me, alright? I’m not mad. Could never be mad at you, y’know that.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, to the arch of your brow, to the bridge of your nose. He rubbed soothing circles into your skin until your tears slowed and your breaths found their normal cadence once again. And then, because he knows you, he asked, “What really happened?”

And you tell him. Every detail. And Joel stands there, holding you, listening with bated breath. 

When you finish, he pulls his shoulders back with a newfound objective. “M’gonna go talk to Lee,” he said.

Janet’s husband was a good man, you knew. Similar to Joel in the way of being a nurturing sort of husband. A hard-working man with never a bad thing to say about anyone. “You don’t have to,” you tell Joel. “What she did was wrong but I’d rather she takes it out on me than a kid at their first job.”

He shakes his head. “Can’t just let it go,” he said. “She disrespected my wife. Not the kinda thing I can turn the other cheek to.” 

“Joel—don’t…don’t—” You weren’t sure what you were asking. His insistence didn’t surprise you in the least, but you didn’t want to start anything that would disrupt the peace the two of you’d spent so much time cultivating.

He seems to understand you despite your lack of vocal explanation. “Just gonna have a word with him, sweetheart. That’s all.”

Before he walked out the door, he asked very specifically for the Mediterranean chicken dish you’d made for him last week. Which was strange only because he never asked for anything specific; he simply asked you to cook whatever you felt like, and insisted that somehow you knew his cravings better than he himself did. 

It wasn’t until fifteen minutes later, as you put the chicken in the oven that you realized he’d done it to distract you, to take your mind off the situation at hand while he went and handled it. Helping you without even being in the same room.

When he came home, Joel answered all of your questions at the dinner table and said that he and Lee had shared a beer and talked it over. Warned you to expect an apology the next time you and Janet crossed paths. 

And sure enough, that weekend there was a knock on the front door. 

Joel stood behind you, a looming, protective presence at your back. A safety net as your neighbor apologized for her actions and offered a plate of chocolate chip cookies as amends.

You forgave her, of course. Even invited her in so the two of you could talk about it over a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade on the back porch. She compliments you on the roses growing in your garden and you clip a couple off to send her home with.

Problem solved. Amends made. 

All because of Joel. 

Your closest friends even teased you about it from time to time, making jokes about how spoiled you are, and about how much he cares for you.

When you’re out having a girls' night with the three of them, you share laughs and chips and salsa and have one too many glasses of wine. They all discuss sharing an Uber, but you interject to say, “No worries. Joel will make sure we get home safe.”

And they tease you about that, too, telling you, “You’ve got that big man wrapped tight around your little finger.”

But you’re not wrong, and you suppose your friends aren’t, either. Because he shows up at the diner ten minutes after you send him a text message, and deals with four drunk young women with such grace it’s almost astonishing. Even pulls a soft, secret smile as he listens to the group of you giggle together at something that’s probably not nearly as funny to him.

You asked him about it later, about that gentle amusement he wore, and he explained simply, “What makes you happy makes me happy, darlin.’” 

And you understand exactly what he means. Understand how your happiness, your frustrations, your love is mirrored perfectly in his heart. Because you feel it, too.

It’s why whenever he says he’s craving something, whether it’s fast food or some elaborate dish, you’ll always find a way to get it onto his dinner plate that night. It’s why you make an extra stop during grocery shopping to get that local ground coffee he likes. 

He’d said once how much he loves the way pale blue looks against your skin, and every time you shop for clothes you find yourself gravitating towards the shade. 

You do his laundry and put a towel in the dryer every time he steps in the shower so it’s warm when he gets out. You teach him about skincare and he sits dutifully in bed every Sunday night with a face mask on and a pore strip on his nose. You schedule his doctor and dentist appointments and have never once been successful at fighting off your wide grin as you tell the receptionist on the phone that you’re his wife and they refer to you as Mrs. Miller for the remainder of the call.

Give and take, push and pull—the two of you fit seamlessly together. You take care of him, and he takes care of you, and whatever was left each day you figured out together.

So, when you make your way to the kitchen one early morning to see his lunch still in the fridge, untouched, and his coffee mug in the sink and not the dishwasher, you know something must have gone awry. Something to disrupt his morning routine.

You find your phone only to read a text message he’d left you at six this morning. 

Good morning, sweet girl. Slept through my alarm, might have to stay over today to finish. Love you.

Joel’s an independent man, you know. Perfectly capable of taking care of himself. And you know he’ll likely buy lunch for himself and Tommy, likely some gas station pizza and a soda. But you don’t like the idea of him needing to do that. Don’t like the idea of him eating anything you don’t make for him just the way he likes.

So, you spend the morning getting all dolled up. You wear that pale blue sundress he likes. You curl your hair, coat your lashes in mascara, and spray that expensive, vanilla-scented perfume he got you for your birthday last year. 

And then you grab his lunch from the fridge and make your way to the construction site. You find Joel’s truck easily and park beside it. You’re not sure why, but being here makes your heart race. 

You’ve met the majority of the guys on his crew, and they all know who you are. Countless times you’ve forced Joel to bring in containers full of cookies and pastries you’d bake the night before to share. He’s even brought a couple of them home for dinner before, and invited their wives and kids to fill your home with a little extra love and laughter for the evening.

But for some reason, this feels…different. Like you’re encroaching on their territory, invading space that doesn’t belong to you.

They’re working inside some big structure that has only the framing and roof finished, wooden beams allotting space for each room. You can hear them shouting at each other and the sound of hammers striking nails into place. Somewhere a little further into the building, there’s the mechanical whirring of a drill, but you see no face you recognize.

One of the younger-looking men up in the rafters notices you first. “Well, hello there pretty little lady. Did you need some help?”

You open your mouth to speak, to ask where you might find Joel or even Tommy. But then—

“Dean, you look at my wife like that again and it’ll be the last time you have eyes to look at anyone.” Joel rests his hand on the small of your back as he saddles up to your side. You turn to face him, and can’t help your smirk upon discovering the intimidating scowl on his face that he directs to Dean. “Understand?”

“Yes, sir. Sorry about that, Mrs. Miller.”

“It’s alright, Dean. You didn’t know,” you insist. But Joel narrows his eyes even further and doesn’t stop until you playfully hit his bicep. “It’s fine.”

His expression softens considerably when he looks at you, deep frown turning into a warm smile instead. “Hey, baby girl.” Joel pulls you close, pressing his lips to yours, kissing you softly. Nothing out of the ordinary for him, nothing you don’t expect. But what you don’t expect is for his hand on the small of your back to sink lower, grabbing a lewd fist full of your ass.

The surprise has your lips parting, but Joel only takes it to his advantage, tongue slipping between them to glide smoothly against yours.

When he finally pulls away your face is flushed and he wears that satisfied smirk like armor. He glances up at Dean, whose ears are now red-hot even though he tries very hard to pretend like he’s busy. “I’m taking a twenty. Be back in a bit.”

He takes your hand in his and leads you back outside, and once he opens the passenger door of your truck he’s quick to put his hands on your hips and lift you to help you inside. 

You expect him to close the door and round the front of the truck to get in behind the wheel, but he doesn’t. Before you’re even able to turn and tuck your legs inside, he’s pushing you back against the leather seats and sliding his calloused hands up your thighs beneath your dress. “Joel,” you say, but you don’t attempt to stop him. 

The passenger door’s propped open, just enough to shield him from view as he stands behind it. “You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your panties. He tugs them down and peppers open-mouthed kisses across the exposed skin of your chest, teeth nipping at your cleavage. But then he’s biting you—hard, and pressure pools low in your belly as his tongue flicks over the hurt to soothe. “Always take such good care of me. Had such a rough morning but seein’ you changes it all around.”

You’re giggling uncontrollably, overwhelmed by his sudden need, basking beneath the warmth of his praise. Your hands find his hair, tugging lightly at the ends. “We shouldn’t,” you say. “Someone will see. You’re crazy, old man, do you know that?”

“Yeah, crazy for you.” Normally you’d scold him some more, accuse him of being the absolute cheesiest man that you’ve ever met. But you don’t have the chance before he’s pushing your knees apart and pressing those hot, wet kisses to the inside of your thighs. “Can front all you want, but I’m not dumb, baby. Think you got all dressed up and came all this way for nothing? Nuh-uh.”

This hadn’t been your intention in the slightest, but now that you’re here, and his head’s between your thighs… “I just brought your lunch!” 

Joel smirks. “Fuckin’ right you did.”

You have to cover your mouth to quiet your laughter. “But…seriously. Aren’t you hungry?”

“Starving, sweetheart,” he says. “Now spread your legs.”

You do. Of course you do. 

And Joel makes quick work of you, wasting not a second before his tongue slides through your wet heat with expert precision. He hooks his arms around your thighs and drags you to the end of the leather seat, pressing his face against you. Your clit pulses with need and he takes care of that ache for you, too. Sucking it into his mouth, lapping at you with the flat of his tongue, ratcheting your pleasure to an almost unbearable place.

It doesn’t take long before your back is arching off the leather, hands tugging desperately at his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. You’re whimpering his name and he’s letting out these deep, throaty groans that have your toes curling in your high-top sneakers.

In just a couple minutes he has you right there—right on the edge, so close to your orgasm you can taste it, and then he pulls away. You’re whining immediately, desperate whimpers falling for your lips. 

“Shh. S’alright, baby girl. I’m comin',’” Joel tells you. And then you watch through bleary, tear-filled eyes as he undoes his tool belt and sets it on the floor of his truck. 

The clink of his belt buckle reverberates through your ears, and you whimper again but before you can start begging he’s got his cock in his hand and he’s pressing the big, heavy tip into you. “Oh my God,” you cry, breath stuck in your lungs. 

It feels so good—he always does. He says, “C’mere, baby,” before gripping the front of your dress and pulling you up towards him. He hooks your legs around his hips and sinks into you slow, real slow. Gives you time to adjust to the size of him, time for your pussy to make room for it. He kisses you hard, and out of the corner of your eye, you can see the men on his team working thirty feet away. 

Your heart races in your chest and you think about warning him again that this might be a bad idea, but then he’s sinking his cock alllll the way into you, pushing against that sweet spot inside, and everything else fades into nothing. 

There’s nothing but Joel—your gentle, safe, loving husband, who always takes care of you and always will.

He pulls out slowly, moaning low, and then slams back into you. Again and again and again. He sets such a punishing pace that your eyes roll back and you have to sink your nails into his shoulders just to ground yourself, his gray cotton t-shirt soft and familiar beneath your fingertips. “Fuck, fuck, Joel.”

“Pretty pussy’s squeezin’ me so fuckin’ good, baby,” he says. “Know just what to give her. Know just what she needs.”

You can feel your slick coating the inside of your thighs, your orgasm creeping right back up your spine as if it’d never faded in the first place. He squeezes your thighs hard enough to bruise but it only brings you higher, gets you closer. Your clit pulses and you swear you can feel his cock throbbing inside you in tandem, a perfect man made just for you.

His hips slam into you, bringing you closer and closer and closer, until finally— “Joel, Joel, I—oh my god, shit—!”

“Ohh, sweet girl…you gonna cum for me? Hm? Feels that good? Needed it that bad, didn’t you,” he says, and it’s not a question because he just knows.

“Yes, yes, please—Joel, I’m gonna—!”

He takes a hand and grips the back of your neck, forcing you to look up at him. “I know, baby, s’alright. Give it to me. Yeah, that’s it. There you go.”

Your orgasm hits you hard, makeup smearing as your eyes water. Every nerve ending flares on end, euphoria washing over you and pulling your senses taut. “Cum with me, cum with me, oh god.”

He fucks you through it, and it only takes a couple more meaningful strokes before his hips are stuttering. Joel presses his forehead to yours and kisses you gently, spilling inside you with his cock pressed into you as deep as he can get. He cums with you and the words that leave his mouth as he reaches the summit give you goosebumps. “Love you, sweet girl. Love you so fuckin’ much.”

When he finally comes down, Joel’s panting breaths are in perfect sync with yours. He kisses your cheeks, your nose, your forehead. And when you start giggling he breaks out that soft, gentle smile and it turns your insides to mush.

You wince as he slowly pulls out of you and stuffs himself back into his jeans, pulling on the leather of his belt and fastening it back into place.

“Still have a couple minutes before you have to get back,” you say, cheeks warming as he helps you slide your panties back up your legs. “You really should eat something. Like, actual food. Sustenance.”

“Oh, I’m plenty satisfied,” he jokes. But when you unzip his cooler and sift through it, pulling out the turkey, tomato, and cheese sandwich you’d made him last night, he takes it from you with greedy hands. 

He eats quickly and you watch him in awe, unbelieving that he’s real, and much less that you’d somehow convinced him to love you. A perfect man, all your own, so beautiful and kind and selfless. You don’t think anyone’s loved anymore more than you love Joel.

Playfully, he taps the tip of your nose as he wolfs down the last bite of his sandwich. “What’re you thinkin’ about?”

“Just you,” is your answer.

“Me?”

“About how much I love you.”

His smile widens and he reaches his hand out, cradling your face, running his thumb along your cheekbone. “I don’t deserve you, sweetheart.”

You press your face into his hand, bottom lip jutting out. A part of you wants to beg him to come home early, to use a sick day, and hold you for hours. But instead, you kiss the palm of his hand and jump out of the truck, gravel crunching beneath your feet. “You should probably get back. Don’t want you staying any later than you have to.”

Joel lets out a heavy sigh but nods his head in agreement. He closes the door of his truck and opens the door to your car instead. “Get home safe, alright? I’ll try and get this done as soon as I can. You want me to pick something up after for dinner? Kinda cravin’ pizza.”

“Let me know when you’re leaving the site and I’ll call and put in an order for pickup. Get one for Tommy too so he can take it with him. Wanna make sure he eats. Sound good?”

He kisses you hard and nods. “Sounds real good. See you at home, baby girl.”

“I’ll be waiting on the porch,” you promise.

Like you always are. Like you always will be.

[gilbertscurls]

sweet on you — matt sturniolo

The first time Matt walked into your bakery, it was because Chris dragged him in.

“Dude, I need a croissant,” Chris had whined, already pulling Matt through the door before he could argue.

Matt hadn’t even wanted anything at the time. He had stood there, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket, scrolling through his phone, half-listening as Chris ordered.

And then you walked out from the back, apron dusted with flour, smiling as you handed over a pastry.

Matt had forgotten how to breathe.

Chris had teased him the entire way home about the way he tripped over his words when you asked if he wanted anything.

And now?

Now he was your most frequent customer.

Not because he had a massive sweet tooth.

Not because you made the best pastries in Los Angeles (even though, let’s be real, you did).

But because you were there.

And Matt? He was completely, ridiculously in love with you.

Your bakery opened at 7:00 AM.

Matt showed up at 7:05. Every. Single. Day.

At first, you thought he was just someone who liked fresh pastries. Maybe an early riser, someone who appreciated a quiet moment with coffee before the world got too loud.

But then you started to notice things.

Like how he always waited until there was no line, even if he got there first.

Like how he spent a few extra minutes “deciding” what to order, even though he always got the same thing—a cinnamon roll and a vanilla latte.

Like how he lingered after paying, leaning against the counter, making small talk even when you were busy.

And most of all—how his eyes always, always found you.

Soft and warm and maybe just a little nervous.

Yeah. You noticed.

It was a particularly slow morning when you decided to call him out.

“You know,” you mused, wiping your hands on a dish towel, “you could probably make these cinnamon rolls at home.”

Matt blinked, halfway through his first bite. “What?”

“I mean, you do know that bakeries sell entire boxes, right? You could just get, like, a dozen and not have to come in every morning.”

Matt coughed, nearly choking on his bite. “I—I like them fresh.”

You leaned against the counter, raising a brow. “Right. That’s the reason.”

His face turned red.

You grinned, enjoying how flustered he looked.

“Admit it,” you teased. “You’re not just here for the pastries.”

Matt groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I really do.”

You smirked. “Okay, so should I stop putting extra icing on your cinnamon rolls, then?”

Matt froze. “You what?”

“Oh, come on,” you laughed. “You think I don’t notice? I literally set aside the best one for you every morning.”

His mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

“Are you—” He swallowed. “Are you flirting with me?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh my God, finally.”

Matt gaped at you. “Finally?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to do something about it for weeks,” you admitted, grinning. “I was starting to think I was gonna have to start writing my number on your coffee cup.”

Matt blinked. Then, slowly, a huge grin spread across his face.

“That would’ve been really smart,” he said.

“Yeah, well.” You slid his coffee across the counter, holding his gaze. “Here’s your last free pass. Ask me out already.”

Matt exhaled, shaking his head. “God, I can’t believe you beat me to it.”

“Clock’s ticking.”

He grinned, grabbing his coffee. “Fine.”

Then, with more confidence than he probably actually had, he winked.

“Pick you up at seven?”

You smirked. “See you then, cinnamon roll.”

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike, @shadowthesim237, @courta13, @frankdelreyy, @evansturn, @bamsblooming

[kouukie]

Sink Clutter Set Includes 23 Objects

Loved this set by @aroundthesims and it was a huge inspiration for this set! I'm extra and wanted a bunch of options for the dish rack including pots, pans, bowls and utensils. Made some other goodies too! This set took me what feels like my whole life but I had a lot of fun making it and I hope you guys love it!

General Information:

Custom Thumbnails

Base Game Compatible

Used Mothz Pattern Pack for Hanging Towel

Search 'Kouukie - Sink Clutter' in build/buy search bar to easily locate

Object Information:

Sink Tray: Polycount - 366 - §30 - 26 Swatches

Brush: Polycount - 270 - §10 - 24 Swatches

Sink Tray Brush: Polycount - 582 - §10 - 24 Swatches

Hand Sanitizer: Polycount - 182 - §6 - 7 Swatches

Sponge: Polycount - 402 - §3 - 5 Swatches

Dish Gloves: Polycount - 1634 - §15 - 20 Swatches

Scrub Mommy: Polycount - 206 - §5 - 4 Swatches

Hand Soap: Polycount - 406 - §7 - 8 Swatches

Dish Rack: - Polycount 1274 - §40 - 26 Swatches

Dish Rack Plate: - Polycount 8 - §124 - 14 Swatches

Dish Rack Bowl: - Polycount 134 - §10 - 14 Swatches

Dish Rack Pot V1: - Polycount 212 - §40 - 18 Swatches

Dish Rack Pot V2: - Polycount 212 - §40 - 18 Swatches

Dish Rack Pan V1: - Polycount 158 - §40 - 18 Swatches

Dish Rack Pan V2: - Polycount 158 - §40 - 18 Swatches

Dish Rack Cup V1: - Polycount 98 - §8 - 1 Swatch

Dish Rack Cup V2: - Polycount 98 - §8 - 1 Swatch

Dish Rack Cup V3: - Polycount 257 - §8 - 1 Swatch

Dish Rack Utensils V1: - Polycount 432 - §8 - 1 Swatch

Dish Rack Utensils V2: - Polycount 482 - §8 - 1 Swatch

Dish Soap: - Polycount 622 - §10 - 1 Swatch

Sponge Plate: - Polycount 218 - §10 - 14 Swatches

Hanging Towel: - Polycount 166 - §10 - 49 Swatches

DOWNLOAD: SFS | SIMS-CLOUD

Follow my TOU for recolors or any other inquires involving my content.

If there’s any issues you’re encountering message me! Check original post for updates & fixes.

You can find my other downloads here #S4CC Tag me if you use my CC! I follow the tag #Kouukie

⭐ CC in pictures [ Sink | Tawashi | Counter ] ⭐

UPDATES & FIXES

Specular maps are now fixed and items will look as intended in the picture. I forgot I had this mod in my game which removes the cube maps from items. Please redownload.

[hoe4hotchner]

I loved bakery owner reader x loyal customer hotch SO MUCH 😭😭😭

Can you please make one where the team finally meets her? Maybe on Penelope’s birthday since she is the most excited about the relationship 😅. Maybe he shows up at Dave’s house with reader by surprise

A sweet surprise, a warmer welcome | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bakery owner fem!reader | WC: 0.8k | CW: it's fluff so none

String lights hung in the backyard, casting a warm glow over the patio, and the smell of grilling steaks, vegetables, and whatever vegetarian dish Penelope had brought along filled the air. Music played softly in the background, and laughter mixed with the hum of conversation.

But despite the cheerful atmosphere, the team couldn’t help but wonder about one thing: Hotch.

Ever since Penelope had found the picture of him with you the team had been curious about the woman who had brought some light into their usually reserved boss’s life. Penelope, in particular, was buzzing with excitement, though she had promised to let Hotch decide when to introduce his partner to the team - and hold her horses on looking into your background.

"Do you think he's coming?" Penelope whispered to Emily as they watched Morgan tend to the grill. “I mean, I don't expect him to bring her, but it would be the best birthday surprise.”

Emily smiled, taking a sip of her wine. “Who knows? He’s full of surprises lately.”

Meanwhile, Hotch parked his car in Rossi’s driveway, your hand resting in his as he turned off the engine. You had been nervous about meeting his team - they sounded like a close-knit group, full of strong personalities - but Hotch had assured you they would welcome you with open arms. Still, the nervous energy in your stomach was undeniable.

“You ready?” Hotch asked, his voice calm and reassuring as he turned to you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

You took a breath and smiled softly. “As ready as I probably can be.”

Hotch chuckled. “Don’t worry, they’re excited to meet you, especially Penelope.”

You laughed at that. “Penelope, your tech guru who figured out we were dating just from a picture? That Penelope?” You tried to recall the information he had told you about each member of the team.

He smiled. “That’s the one. She’s been asking about you ever since.”

The thought of the team being so eager to meet you made you feel more at ease. With a final glance at each other, Hotch led you to the front door, the faint sound of laughter and music drifting from the backyard. As he opened the door, you could hear what you assumed was Penelope’s voice, based on the information Hotch had told you, and the reality of the moment settled in.

Before stepping outside, Hotch paused, turning to you with a soft smile. “I’m happy that you wanted to come.”

Your heart fluttered at the sincerity in his words. “Me too.”

Together, you walked into the backyard, hand in hand. The conversation started to quiet as people noticed you arriving. It was JJ who spotted you first, her eyes widening as she nudged Will. “Guys, look.”

All heads turned in your direction, and for a moment, the team was silent, taking in the sight of Hotch with his arm around you. Penelope, however, couldn’t hold back her excitement for long.

“Oh. My. Gosh!” she squealed, practically bouncing with joy. “You brought her!”

Hotch smiled at her enthusiasm. “Surprise.”

She rushed forward, arms open as she enveloped you in a warm hug before you even had a chance to introduce yourself. “It’s so nice to finally meet you! We’ve all been waiting for this day!”

You returned the hug, smiling. “It’s nice to meet you too, Penelope. I’ve heard so much about everyone.”

Penelope pulled back, beaming, and gestured to the rest of the team. “This is Emily, Derek, JJ, and of course, you already know Rossi.”

Rossi walked over with a grin, wiping his hands on a towel. “Welcome. Hotch hasn’t said much, but we’ve been looking forward to this.”

You chuckled. “I’m just glad to finally meet all of you.”

The rest of the team gathered around, offering greetings and introductions. Morgan shook your hand with a grin. “So you’re the one who’s been making our boss a little less strict lately. Nice to meet you.”

You blushed slightly. “I just make the coffee and bread, really. He did the rest himself.”

Hotch smiled softly. “You do a lot more than that.”

Emily leaned in toward Penelope with a teasing smile. “Okay, you were right. Best birthday surprise ever.”

Penelope practically glowed with happiness. “I knew it! Hotch, you’ve been holding out on us, but I forgive you because she’s perfect.”

You laughed along with the group, feeling the warmth and acceptance from each of them. Hotch stayed close by, his hand still gently holding yours. He seemed more at ease, surrounded by his friends and with you by his side.

Rossi raised his glass, signaling for everyone to do the same. “To Penelope’s and to meeting the woman who’s made Hotch happier than we’ve seen him in a long time.”

The group cheered, glasses clinking together in celebration. As the night went on, you found yourself fitting seamlessly into their dynamic, sharing stories and laughter. Hotch remained close, always attentive, and though it was Penelope’s special day, it was clear that you were the true surprise that made the evening unforgettable.

[bl0odyh3art]

JUST LIKE HER.

warnings: incest (father/daughter), James being disgusting, james comparing you and Mary 😭, non-con to dub-con, and getting turned on by yelling.

this is dead dove/dark content. if are uncomfortable with this kind of content or don't like it, then do not interact.

a/n : this lowkey sucks to me

Being with your dad wasn't so bad. He supports you, cares for you, lets you drive his car sometimes, and decided it was okay for you to live with him still. Unless you find a nice spot. But there's one thing.

He's really, really, really, really, a serious loser. I mean come on…he's kinda pathetic. Sad to say it but it's true, your dad isn't always the best of the best. He can be lazy and dumb. Sometimes really touchy with you as well….but that's for another time. Whenever he sees you, cleaning, cooking, or whatever that reminds him of Mary in the slightest.

He'd go insane and go on long stories about her, of course he never told you what really happened…you'd hate him with all your guts and heart. He even feels pathetic for mistaking you for her once.

“Dad, it's been years. I thought you'd let go of it now.” You sighed as you grabbed the tiny towel to dry off a dish.

“I know, sweetie but it's just-....you look like her sometimes and that makes me freak out..” He looked away from you, what kind of father does that? Gets excited over almost seeing his dead wife but in reality it's just his daughter.

Honestly, when did you get so big? When you were a kid, you looked a lot more like him. Exactly like your dad, people would mistake you for a boy sometimes.

He was staring at you, long and good…just looking. ‘Would she feel just like Mary?’ He let his thoughts take over. What the fuck.

He cringed internally and put his head in his hands. He can't. He knows he shouldn't…but fuck. He saw all the bits of Mary…Mary…and himself. Mostly his genes but you were a perfect mix. The tits and ass…god he just wanted to grab them and compare them but that'd already make him more of a loser than he is.

Being miserable and wanting to fuck his own daughter? Really trying to make himself look bad at this point. But what could be the harm? Only once. He hid Mary's death for a bit…He can hide this too.

“What are you doing?” Scoffing at him as he puts his hands on your hips, Trying to swat them away.

“You look like her, y’know..?” He said in the softest and sad voice he had.

Pathetic ass loser trying to seduce his daughter. Barf.

“Okay…and?...” You tried to turn your head to look at him. He stared at you with a certain look you've seen before. The look you saw customers give you at work. “Let's fuck” look. He tried slipping his cold hands underneath your sweater, making you flinch and push him away.

“Hey! What the hell is wrong with you?” Your brows furrow and look disgusted with him. You should be disgusted because he deserves it.

“Honey, I'm so sorry…I don't know what came over me….” He sighed. He knew exactly what came over him but sadly it didn't work.

So plan B. Fuck her while she's sleeping. Not his proudest moments but hey, he's had worse moments. So during the night, while you're all tucked in and fast asleep. He comes in like the boogeyman at night and boom.

He can't wait another minute, feeling up your tits and kissing you…Okay, so it doesn't really taste like her but it's sweeter and softer.

After minutes of kissing you and feeling up your tits, you get up and slap him quickly “God, what the fuck is wrong with you? I can't even sleep anymore? Fuck…you're so gross, I can't believe mom delt with you.” You basically yelled at him and wow, that's what got him hard.

Whiskey Dick the whole time he was touching you but the yelling is what got him turned on. Fucking freak.

You couldn't do much, he's stronger and older, you had to give in and just let it happen. He has a big dick though…a real nice pale, veiny, pink tip dick. Pushing it deeper and deeper into you as he let go of strained groans.

“I'm sorry…. I'm- fuck I'm sorry baby but…I couldn't stop…” He breathed out into your neck, he got red pretty easily. his pretty neck is all red and his dick of course just absolutely throbbing against your soft walls. Making you cry out in pleasure and pain.

“Dad!...Oh God…ahah…please rub my clit…” you whined to him and he instantly listened. It's so cute. the perfect pussy, chubby, tight, and wet. After what seemed like hours, he finally came all in you. His jaw clenching, eyes closed, and hands stuck to your hips while he tried so hard to not moan ‘Mary’. No condom or anything. He wasn't capable of waiting for something like that. He felt guilty. Looking at your tired and exhausted expression.

“Baby…My baby…I'm so sorry for that..” He sighed out, leaning his head down to your shoulder and letting it rest there as you just patted his back. “S’okay, dad…” you slurred out, cock drunk.

At least he got some pussy finally.

[gracie-eilish]

💍thinking about thoughtfulness…

“go sit together so you can open some gifts!” your mom called out, pointing towards where billie was setting two chairs next to each other near the front of the room.

you looked up to see billie looking over at you with a soft smile, already sat on a chair.

c’mere!!! she seemed to say, waving you over excitedly with a goofy look on her face until you made your way over to sit.

your person of honor sat off to the side, ready to take down names and gifts in a list for thank you notes billie was sure you’d hand write in a few days.

in between gifts, she’d press a kiss to your cheek or temple. acknowledging the cute excitement you had as you both opened up… well.. pots and pans, dishes, a steamer, some towels.. an air fryer… regular wedding registry things. with of course some sweet bridal/wedding themed gifts mixed in between.

until you reached the last one. tucked away behind all the other ones, in a pretty decorated bag. gold embellishments on it making it seem bridal.

it was a cute assortment of gifts. matching jewelry trays for both of your rings to sit in at night, cheesy matching mrs. and mrs. mugs and tea towels, a gold decorated photo frame for assumingely a wedding photo to soon reside, and a small velvet box at the bottom.

billie subtly let you take the bag into your lap, to reach down to grab the box, watching you with a loving eye. you set the bag aside and leaned over to open it with billie.

inside resided a ring. not just any ring. the ring. the one you had dreamt up in your head, combining pinterest photos, and wedding magazine clippings, customizing the ring you wanted.

and there it was staring back at you. and it was real. not some dream.

billie sat back in her chair a bit, happily smirking at you. you both had proposed to each other without rings on a whim, caught up in emotion and love and longing, not bothering to wait for rings or rose petals or candles. just wanting each other.

“you like it baby?” billie purred, her arm wrapping around the back of your chair as you looked up at her with wide glassy eyes.

“what is it?” someone called out curiously.

“it’s their ring.” billie replied proudly, eyes not leaving yours. your friends and family all melted. everyone knew you guys didn’t propose with rings, and all assumed you’d both just go to the jewelry store and pick out rings together. so this was a total surprise that she had it ready to go for your wedding shower.

“billie i.. i don’t know what to say.”

“you don’t have to say anything. just let me put it on your pretty little finger.”

and you did.

it slipped on like a dream. you couldn’t get over how she remembered every detail perfectly. the stone, the cut, the carats, the sizing, the band, the color…

as you lay together in bed that night, you snuggled up to her side and let your left hand rest on her chest, allowing the diamond to sparkle in the moonlight.

“did you really buy us all that cheesy matching crap just to surprise me with my ring today?” you asked, a wide smile growing on your face.

“um excuse me, i don’t think they’re crap if the towels are already hanging in the kitchen missy,” she teased scrunching her nose at your sheepish smile. “and yes, yes i did buy a bunch of matching crap just to surprise you.” both of you burst into giggles.

“well it’s perfect billie. i can’t get over how you remembered everything.”

she just smiled, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “i wouldn’t dream of buying you anything else baby. i mean, this is literally you in a ring.”

she took your hand softly, leaving delicate kisses on your knuckles.

“this is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever worn.” she whispered, fingers still entwined, running her thumb over your hand, making you blush furiously.

“and i can’t wait to marry you my love.”

i’m not back yet. just couldn’t get this idea out of my head:)

[catiuskaa]

RAINKISSED CHERRIES.

summary: by chance or luck, you and minho found each other that rainy summer evening. dirty dishes, cherries and all.

series masterlist (☆) collab with @dalamjisung !

wc: 3.1k

cw: absolute heart-wreaking fluff! short mentions of bullying, minho is a soft introverted cutie pie, the reader is a cherry enthusiast, and a slight suggestive thing on the end [as a present for all of you who thought the cherry emoji on the poll was for dirty stuff, lololol]

[🔺 ★ 🍒 ★ 🔺]

Minho was used to being alone. 

It didn’t scare him, not really. He didn’t feel fear when all that was happening around him was the silence that crowded the restaurant after a busy day as he cleaned up his kitchen. He relished the scent of lemons that lingered on him after he was done, sometimes going as far as doing the dishes by hand instead of popping them into the dishwasher, in an attempt to intensify it.

He knew most people wouldn’t understand. And quite frankly, he didn’t mind it. The kitchen was his space. No one came in during their shifts, merely speaking to him through the window that divided it from the rest of the place. He could cook without interruption, with the tranquil chatter that the clients brought merely on the background as he hummed distant tunes he couldn’t remember the lyrics to while chopping vegetables or cleaning up a fish.

So he took his time cleaning too, waiting for his ears to get used to the absence of noise and to welcome the reverberation his steps made when he walked around cleaning the counters, or when he moved the plates and cutlery and glasses, the sounds all too familiar, or sometimes new ones, like the door to the fridge that now chirped as he opened it while checking on the list next to it to see what he’d need to buy or refill.

The rain sounded shyly as it fell on the roof over him, like a gentle reminder to bring an umbrella to work. Its soothing charm made him sigh in comfort, and Minho relished in the sound of nothing at all that filled the restaurant after closing.

And when there was a sudden shaking of the backdoor, is why his heart skipped a beat. Or that’s what he liked to think at first, considering that it seemed much more normal to relate that to the unexpected sound rather than the unexpected, unknown visit.

“We’re… closed,” Minho uttered, frowning lightly, confused at the sight of you.

He was pretty sure it was late enough for you to know that the restaurant was closed —if the fact that the sign over the main door that read HAVEN wasn’t on couldn’t have been a dead giveaway already—.

But under his disoriented grin, he found you smiling. “Right. S-sorry,” you mumbled. Your hair was wet, your clothes too, which was also weird, considering summer rain showers were never intense to such an extent.

It brought the conclusion that you had probably been walking under the rain for a while.

“Did you… um.” He felt a small lump in his throat, and he cursed in his mind.

Minho knew he wasn’t cut out for customer service. That’s why his brother, Felix, like the everlasting ray of sunshine he was and had always been, was the one who managed the front while he stayed in the kitchen. The sole contact he had with clients would be when they sat on the window by the kitchen, and that was only allowed in the early mornings, which meant barely any people interacted with him aside from the casual, “coffee, black,” or “is there a newspaper I could read?” He kind of enjoyed that sort of contact. Minho didn’t even need to answer, merely nodding and following suit to what the clients demanded.

But this was different, and despite himself, he tried to push through. “You’re soaked.” He stated, a fact you didn’t dare to contradict, as foolish as that might have been, taking in the state of you. “Come in. You’ll get a cold.”

He moved on autopilot as he headed to the locker that stood in the corner of the kitchen. There was a small smile of triumph that crossed his face when he found the towels that Felix kept there for rain showers, and grabbed one.

“Take a seat… if you, um, want to.”

You blinked at him, puzzled, watching as he left the neatly folded towel over the windowsill-like counter.

Licking his lips, Minho just stared at you, doubting his every action, going as far as wondering if his breathing was too loud for the silence that crowded the restaurant, bubbling with the gentle words he had just spoken.

But then your eyes got teary, and you smiled at him like he had hung the stars in the sky for you to see. His heart did a thing at the sight of your new-formed happiness, beating a bit faster as you took the towel and messily squeezed your hair with it, sitting on the other side of the counter.

You were an unexpected visit in his space. His kitchen. His mind related that to the fact that his heart was going what his brother would call “bananas”, now timidly troubled at the sight of you.

It was a small diner in a small village. With the exception of tourists here and there, arriving in boats to enjoy the cool water to ease the warmth the Sun brought. But there were no boats that night, if Minho’s view of the sea from the kitchen was right. Still, he had no idea who you were, nor how it was that he had never seen you before.

“Do you have a charger I could borrow?” The tone of your voice was soft, almost as soothing as the silence had been before your arrival.

He nodded, handing it to you with a sheepish smile on his features, ones that matched your own.

You sighed, plopping your head down against the towel, laying on the counter, fidgeting with the stool you were sitting on, moving side to side.

“Are you not going to ask?” You mumbled softly, playing with the wet strands of hair that fell over your eyes.

Truth be told, Minho hadn’t planned to, not when he had just remembered he had to dry and hang the wine glasses over the counter.

He let out a somewhat breathless chuckle as he unloaded the glasses from the dishwasher.

“Last time I walked for hours in the rain, I wasn’t keen on people wondering why.”

Your gaze felt piercing against his face, but he pretended to be so very interested in drying the glass in his hands. Mmh, oh, yes, glass was made out of glass. Surprising.

The snicker that passed your lips felt equally sad and amused, and a small part of Minho couldn’t help but think that it sounded way better than the tinkles of the dishes.

“Guess so, yeah.”

“You do look like you have a good story to tell.” He grinned bashfully.

The tips of his ears turned pink, but he didn’t mind it when he noticed the shimmer in your eyes turning lighter, entertained by his words.

“You think so?”

He cherished the giggle you let out. Better than a bittersweet snicker. Much better. 

“Pretty sure, yeah.”

A gentle blush dusted your cheeks, and you remained silent, wondering what could be the best way to explain how you had ended up there, like a stray kitten, scratching the wooden door.

“A friend invited me over. I live nearby, I moved recently, but her house is closer to the main plaza here. You know, where the summer concerts are.” He nodded, attentively listening to your every word.

It wasn’t a place he frequented, much less when it was so crowded, but it was easy to hear the music and see the lights from his room, a recurrent scenario every summer since he could recall.

“I don’t drink. Which, to a bunch of twenty-something-year-olds, seems weird enough to comment on it every single time. Sometimes they say that I ruin the vibe, that I’m a killjoy. It’s whatever.”

Now, Minho sucked at social cues half of the time, —the other half he just wasn’t interested enough to give a flying fuck—, but even for him it was easy to say that, to you, it wasn’t just whatever.

“We went to today’s—, well, yesterday’s concert.” You snickered, but your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It was okay. They had their fair share of alcohol, I had apple juice. I can’t say I didn’t have fun.”

Minho felt his heart pout inside his chest when he saw you shrug nonchalantly. And he lied too, by omission, deciding not to comment on it.

“Then we went back to my friend's house.” Your tone had changed, and the palms of your hands pressed into your eye sockets, as if that could make the memory of a few hours ago more bearable. “And I had this necklace on. A silly thing. Gold.” You muttered, moving your hands to your jaw as you kept speaking. “Probably fake anyways.”

You gulped, as if swallowing dry. “Suddenly, the girl who invited me turned against me.” You bit your lip, chuckling a cold laugh out of your system. “Said I was only there to drive them, because I didn’t drink. But now her boyfriend had a license.” You rolled your eyes, frowning. “Like, girl, your sad excuse of a boyfriend is one shove away from an alcoholic coma. Sure. Let him drive. First one who ends up in a ditch loses.”

Hanging up yet another wine glass, Minho snickered, which got you out of your head lightly, making you smile shyly, noticing your phone had turned back on.

But instead of throwing yourself at it head first, you sighed, continuing the story.

“She said I wasn’t needed now.” Your voice felt heavy with pent-up emotions. “That the only cute thing I could bring to the group was my necklace.” Your eyes were teary again, and Minho couldn’t help but scoff, frowning.

“Sounds like a handful.” He mumbled.

“God, yeah,” you passed your hands through your hair, “but the worst was when her boyfriend, drunk as fuck, decided that if she liked my necklace, she should have it.”

His hands stopped, as if someone had pressed pause on him, and Minho promptly left the wine glass on the counter, cloth inside it. 

“He… grabbed the necklace and… and shoved me.” You recalled the motion, taking a hand to your neck, tightening it on a fist, and tensing up your body, as if you had been pushed right then and there before Minho’s eyes. 

“And, well, the thing couldn’t really hold my weight to begin with…” You scratched the back of your head, your hair still damp under your fingertips. “The clasp got loose and… I fell back to the swimming pool.”

“God, you must be freezing, then,” Minho mumbled, the shock passing through his tone, mixed with light worry. 

You dismissed it with a gentle groan and a flick of the wrist, but when he got you another towel, you were quick to settle it over your shoulders. 

“I don’t know if Lix could have left something around here…” 

But you settled your hand over his wrist, smiling. “No, please. You’ve done enough for me already. More than any of my so-called friends to begin with.”

That’s why I should keep doing more. 

It was a thought, just a random idea, something far from being a grand gesture of any kind. Still, the weight of it threatened to tint Minho’s ears a deep shade of red and take his breath away. It was then and only then that he noticed a red scratch on your neck, just a bit over your collarbone.

You could only blink, puzzled, when he didn’t move his arm away from you, but instead leaned forward, slightly over the counter, boring his eyes to your neck. 

“He did this to you?” 

Ah. You were talking. Mmh. Having a conversation, yes. He— god, he was a total stranger. Handsome, sure, whatever. Ok, maybe not exactly whatever, fine. Still. Huh? What had you been thinking?

“I, uh,” you swallowed dry, but it hadn’t been full of awkward tension. Not as much as you had expected. “What… what?” 

Breathless. It was ridiculous! How could a random, gorgeous, beautiful young man from the countryside make you so weak in such little time? It wasn’t normal to fall so easily for anyone, was it?

His eyes stared at yours, and the brown of his calmed your racing heart and fuzzy mind. 

Oh. 

“Um. You have a… t-there’s a… scratch. Red. From, um, the necklace, probably.” 

But neither of you had moved from the closeness that you had just discovered. 

“Is it, eh, bleeding?” 

Minho’s tone matched your own. A whisper, barely loud enough to be called a sound. 

“No. Just a scratch.” 

His eyes —bright and kind, yet guarded— held yours with an intensity that was both unnerving and comforting, whereas Minho felt like he was being seen, really seen, for the first time in a long while. Which was, again, bananas. One hundred per cent bananas. 

Like I said, ridiculous. Odds are that you had spent less than an hour in his space, his kitchen, and now he didn’t find himself yearning for the tranquil buzz of his ears after a loud day. Tonight, he wanted your voice, telling him a story. And he’d love to listen to anything, especially if you didn’t have that sad undertone while you spoke, because when you had giggled, it had reverberated in his space. Not his kitchen, honestly, but his chest, fluttering butterflies fighting inside of him. 

Neither of you spoke, but the silence was no longer awkward. It was filled with something else, something tender and unspoken. You licked your lips, chuckling lightly, and tucked a wet strand of hair behind your ear, a delicate movement that had only seemed to draw him closer, despite the stillness of your bodies.

“I think there are bandaids here somewhere.” He grinned gently, and you watched him, almost mesmerized. “It’s better than nothing.” There was a slight doubt in his mind, but he ended up shoving it away, speaking softly. “I can’t offer you much aside from bandaids and cherries, really.  Let me.” Minho chuckled.

He had to hold back the impulse to bite his lip at your toothy grin. “You have cherries?” 

For you, yes. But instead, he merely smiled, cruising to the counter close to the window, moving the bowl closer to you. 

Plopping a cherry in your mouth, you sighed in contentment. The familiar, almost homey feeling of the explosion of sweetness in your mouth brought you back to the comfort of your own house. You picked a paper napkin from the corner of the windowsill counter, leaving the pits over it. 

“You must really like cherries.” He tongued his cheek, missing your enthusiastic nod, heading to one of the small drawers of the aisle in the kitchen, like a man on a mission, and you snickered, staring at his back as he looked around in the different drawers. But then, he paused, and his shoulders made a weird motion. “Ah, Yongbok…” 

You couldn’t help but frown at him, yet it was obvious that the giggle you let out after he turned back to face you had been totally on purpose. 

“Hello Kitty bandaids?” You relished on the light blush that dusted his cheeks pink, before sparing him. “That’s so cute.”

Minho let out a chuckle that was full of relief. “My little brother. A menace, as you can see.” 

“Mmh, I’m thoroughly terrified.” 

“You don’t say.” 

He snickered, getting out of the kitchen, standing now before you, towering over your sitting figure, even on the bar stool. 

You watched as he skilfully unwrapped the pink and colourful bandaid, lemon-scented hands tenderly pressing the sticky band over the red scratch. 

“There,” Minho mumbled. “You can keep an extra one if you’d like.”

Only in certain moments, he could remember not missing the old clock that used to tick every second, hanging over the backdoor like an impending sign that his time in the kitchen was well past midnight. And that night was not only one more to the list, but most likely its number one addition. Minho loved the feeling that came over him when he stared into your eyes, and that old wooden thing would have ruined everything. 

No old clock. Just two strangers standing in front of each other, on a late August night, inside a closed diner, waiting for something to interrupt what was too early to happen yet. 

There would be other chances, Minho was sure of it. At least a small part of him was, whereas the other debated how stupid he was because he hadn’t asked for your name yet. Nevertheless, the other part of his brain —a much, much funnier one, if you asked for this humble author’s opinion— knew there was time. 

He didn’t need an old clock in the diner, because there would be time on other rainy evenings, when you’d come back from wherever you had been in the day, the lingering scent of rain on you, and he’d melt in your arms, as if that could make the lemon scent stain on you as much as you had stained him. 

Minho would scrunch his nose. 

“You reek of cherries.” 

And you’d smile, guilty as charged, both of you fully aware that you had probably bought and finished a small box of cherries on your way to him. 

“Change that, then.” 

It would only take a playful giggle escape from your cherry-tinted lips for him to grab you in his arms and sit you down, not behind the counter like the night you two had met, and not on the edge of his bed like he had done barely a couple of months after —one could only resist a sweet sweet cherry for so long—, but on top of the recently-cleaned surface, and he’d giggle too, torn between kissing away the day off you as you both simmered in the late, rainy night, protected only by the diner’s roof, or melting in your hold, your hands, slightly cold from being outside running through his hair and scratching his scalp, letting rain, cherries and lemons lull him to sleep. 

He hadn’t seen any of this in your eyes, that first night. But Minho knew deep inside that there was no way in hell he’d let you go without you coming back the next morning.

“I should go.” You grinned, looking down sheepishly. “Thank you for tonight.”

After folding the towels —an excuse to stay just a bit more—, you both parted ways under the rain. 

Were there things left unsaid? Sure. Honestly, it’s why this author keeps adding small bits and pieces between long hyphens. Minho hadn’t told you how he was dying to see you again someday —the sooner the better, if you asked him—. 

And you had just smiled cheekily as you walked away to find your car instead of saying what you had been thinking for a while, Hello Kitty bandaid in hand —that would surely end up stuck to the wall of your room—. 

It wasn’t your name, as some of you might be thinking. You had scribbled that on another napkin when he wasn’t looking. No, it was something even better. 

See you tomorrow.

[🔺 ★ 🍒 ★ 🔺]

kats, who is craving not cherries but a late-night, lemon-scented minho for herself to cuddle to sleep.

catiuskaa, august 2024 ©

POLL TAGLIST! @felixglow @beccasmecka @loubouskz @dreamerwasfound @renjunniex @planetstars-blog @frickinmad @jeongsoo-jin @raptorbait529 @skz-supernovaa @midnightlunaaa @xuxibelle @ppurple-reignn @s3onghaswifey

bold and red means i couldn’t tag you! </3

PERMANENT TAGLIST! @lyramundana @stayconnecteed

[saffusthings]

second chances

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part twenty-two: balancing act

word count: 3.5k (exactly!)

warning: talks of drugs, but nothing too detailed

twenty-one | twenty-two | twenty-three

Sometimes they met in the back booth at Brew’s after closing, nursing half-finished drinks and trading sticky notes. Other times, he’d sit sideways in the armchair of her modest flat, one ankle propped over his knee while she lay stomach-down on the floor with her laptop, highlighters scattered like confetti. She’d read aloud when his eyes got tired—he never told her why—and he’d quiz her with questions disguised as hypotheticals that she didn’t realize were lifted from memories he could never confess to.

Once, she asked him to explain the difference between theft, embezzlement, and larceny back to her and he did—flawlessly, too. She beamed like he’d handed her the moon. He didn’t know how to say that all he’d really done was memorize the way she said it. 

Word for word.

“So, you guys picking rings out yet, or–?”

“We were studying,” he told Logan flatly, shooting him a mildly-threatening glare.“It’s actually not all that bad, you know. ‘S the same as, like, strategy meetings n’ shit, basically.”

Logan actually choked on his Skittle, causing Oscar to seize the opportunity to smack him on the back, hard. When his ability to breathe finally returned to him, Logan couldn’t help but just blink at Lando, staring at him like the man had just told him unicorns were real. 

“Who are you, and what the hell have you done with our boss?”

One Thursday evening, he showed up early to pick her up from the café. The warm amber light of the lingering sunset painted the windows gold, and for a moment he didn’t go in. He just stood there, his breath fogging faintly against the glass as the autumn wind blew past.

There stood two distinct figures, their heads bent together, a shared laugh bubbling up between them. Margot said something and nudged the younger woman’s shoulder gently, looking positively mischievous, and Y/N swatted her with a dish towel, grinning wide and unguarded.

The bell above the café door chimed softly as Lando stepped inside. The air was thick with the scent of freshly ground coffee beans and the lingering warmth of the day’s baked goods, but what caught his attention wasn’t the smell—it was the sound of her laughter.

She stood near the counter, apron loosely tied around her waist, leaning slightly against it as she spoke with Margot. The elderly shopkeeper was wiping down the espresso machine, her lined face alight with amusement, eyes twinkling with mirth. Whatever they were talking about, it was easy, familiar. It wasn’t just that they spoke often—it was that they spoke easily.

He lingered by the door for a moment, blending in with the tilting shadows.

“—so I told him, ‘No, you don’t need more sugar, Sir. What you need is better taste buds,’” Margot was saying, shaking her head as she scrubbed at a stubborn coffee stain.

He watched Y/N let out a warm laugh. “Come on! You did not say that to a paying customer!”

Margot scoffed, looking far too smug for a woman her age. It suited her. “He was a regular! He deserved the truth. It must not have been too bad, because he ended up marrying me.”

The two of them continued chatting like this, warmth wrapped around their words like a familiar quilt. The conversation itself wasn’t remarkable, but it was the effortless affection between them that he noted. It was in the way Margot would roll her eyes but still refill her cup without being asked. In the way Y/N, without thinking, would place her hand over the sharp edge of the countertop whenever Margot rounded that corner all while still listening to her ridiculous stories. Small things. Unremarkable things. But things that made it clear—Margot wasn’t just her boss. She was family.

The realization was sharp in Lando’s chest, though he wasn’t sure why.

“This job certainly has its perks,” the younger woman teased, shooting her boss a look. “Y’know, like the free coffee, the day old pastries, the paycheck that helps me pay rent–”

“What, is my wonderful company not enough? You’re telling me now that I’ve got to pay you as well?” the elderly woman shook her head, tutting. “You drive a very hard bargain, I’m afraid.”

After a beat, both of them doubled over in laughter, washrags and spray bottles forgotten as they clutched their sides, matching smiles across their faces. When the laughter ebbed, and the familiar, comfortable quiet settled between them again, Y/N let out a small breath, feeling it deep in her chest. She wondered what kind of miracle she must have stumbled into, what cosmic favor she must have unknowingly earned to deserve someone like Margot in her life.

Without her, she couldn’t imagine a world as beautiful as this one.

What did I do to deserve someone like her?

Margot—the woman who saw a lost twenty-something at a bus stop and, with nothing more than a knowing look, handed her a job at the café. Who took her in, no questions asked. Who made her feel wanted when she didn’t even know how to want things for herself. Who fed her, who taught her, who gave her the chance to earn the place she now called home.

People searched for comfort in all sorts of things—music, books, vices they swore they could control. But Y/N had found the rarest kind: the kind that had arms to hold her, a voice that reassured, a steady presence that had never wavered. Someone who, no matter how lost she was, had seen her as someone worth finding. Who laughed with her, argued with her, knew exactly how she took her tea and made the best tomato soup every time she so much as sniffled.

Family looked different for everyone. Hers happened to come in the form of a woman with silver-threaded hair and worn hands, whose voice was equal parts warmth and wit, who smelled faintly of espresso and vanilla, like she had been stitched into the very fabric of the place she had built.

The old woman reached out, smoothing a stray hair from Y/N’s face the way only someone who had watched a child grow into an adult could. Lando recognized that touch—gentle, habitual, something people did when they cared without thinking about it. It was what he imagined maternal love might look like.

“Just promise me,” Margot said, still smiling but voice much softer now. “Don’t let the world turn you into someone who only works and worries.”

Y/N smiled, but it was small. Like a secret she didn’t want to share. “I promise.”

Lando shifted his weight, suddenly feeling like an intruder in a moment that wasn’t his to witness. The ease, the familiarity—Margot knew her in a way he didn’t, not yet.

For a moment, he imagined himself in Margot’s place, imagined being someone she could lean into so freely. Someone who could belong in the soft, easy parts of her world instead of just the stolen moments in between.

When she finally turned and saw him, her eyes lit up just a fraction. “Oh—Liam!” she greeted, straightening as she wiped her hands on her apron. “You’re early. Give me a sec, I’ll grab my stuff?”

Margot turned to him then, her gaze sweeping over him in the way older people did, as if they could see right through the exterior to whatever lay underneath. For a brief moment, he wondered what she thought of him, as if somehow her approval was suddenly important.

Lando gave her a slight nod, but Margot only hummed knowingly before turning back to her cleaning.

“Had some time to kill,” he lied, pushing off the doorframe. “You ready to go?”

She untied her apron and grabbed her bag, turning back to Margot. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Margot waved her off, practically pushing her out, her smile widening just slightly. "Go on, chérie, get out of here before I find you more to do."

 Lando held the door open as they stepped out into the cool Monte Carlo night, leaving Margot with a warm, knowing smile that lingered after they left.

The next evening, he pulled his phone from his pocket, thumb hovering over her contact before finally pressing the call button. Lando pressed his phone to his ear, staring at the half-emptied flask of whiskey in his other hand.

It rang twice before she picked up.

“Hey.”

Hey? Who says ‘hey’?

“Hey yourself,” she answered, her voice light, cheery. “What’s up?” He could hear faint street noise in the background. She was probably walking somewhere—home, maybe, or back from the bookstore she liked to stop by when she had time.

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, I’ve got to bail on tonight. Something… Something came up.”

A pause. 

“Oh.” She covered it well, but he still caught the shift in her tone. “Everything okay?”

Disappointment.

He frowned, swallowing down the strange feeling in his chest. 

What the fuck was that? Guilt?

“Yeah, just some—” He hesitated. He couldn’t exactly tell her what it was that came up. “—work shit. I’ll, uh, make it up to you, yeah?”

“You don’t have to,” she said, and she meant it. That was the worst part.

A long beat passed, and he sat there, listening to the faint sounds of her moving around wherever she was.

He was already running late—Andrea Stella was waiting, and quality control checks were non-negotiable. Noxium had to be flawless. It was the reason they were dominating the market, the reason his empire was continuing to grow.

But she didn’t know that ‘quality control’ in his world meant making sure no one in the supply chain had gotten any ideas about skimming. She didn’t know that if someone had, he’d have to handle it in a way she’d probably never be able to look at him the same again.

He wondered, idly, what would happen if she ever did know.

If she’d still look at him the same way.

If she’d still smile when she saw him.

If she’d still let him sit on her couch and pretend to study ethics with her, like a fucking hypocrite. If she knew that the man who brought her coffee and listened to her complain about professors, was the same man orchestrating the most sophisticated drug trade Monte Carlo had ever seen?

Would she still laugh with him? 

Would she still look at him with those open, unguarded eyes? 

Or would she finally see him for what he was?

He swallowed, pushing the thought away.

“Liam?” she asked. “You still there?”

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah,” he said, forcing his voice steady and gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “I’m here.”

“Alright,” she said finally. “Another time, then?”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Another time.”

He hung up before he could say anything else.

The reality of where he was going sat heavy on his shoulders as he pocketed his phone. He wasn’t heading to a dinner reservation or a study session. He was heading to a warehouse on the edge of town, where Stella—chemist, strategist, and logistical mastermind—was waiting for him. 

He glanced at the dashboard as the car rolled through the dimly lit streets.

This pit in his stomach, heavy and acidic… it wasn’t guilt. It couldn’t be. He had no delusions about what he did or who he was. 

Lando Norris was The Reaper, as he always had been and always would be.

That night, he stood with Andrea Stella in a warehouse tucked into the industrial sector of the city, surrounded by crates packed full of Noxium—his latest chemical leverage over half the market. Andrea’s eyes seemed to crackle with that aura of obsession, clipboard in hand as he muttered numbers and purities and structural guarantees.

However, Lando’s mind wasn’t on the product.

It was on a girl sitting at her desk, probably click-clicking the end of her pen and drawing sketches in the margins of her readings instead of annotating them. He thought of how her brow furrowed when she didn’t understand something, how she’d say “Wait—okay, but what does that mean in real life?”

What would it mean in real life if she knew, if she found out Liam was a lie? If she found out that he wasn’t a guy who was just a little rough around the edges, or vaguely mysterious in the hot stranger sort of way. He was a criminal, a kingpin. A man who used chemists not for labs, but to manufacture control.

Eventually, the two made their way to a makeshift office where they took their seats at the long metal table, the Italian man in front of him rattling off various test results as he pointed out the relevant documents tacked on to his bulletin board, his tone eager. The scent of ethanol and industrial cleaner clung to the air, the stainless steel gleaming under the fluorescent lights.

Noticing his client’s apparent lack of interest in what he was saying, Andrea paused. “Forgive me for asking, Mr. Norris, but I had thought you were taking the night off?” he probed carefully, trying to see what information he might be able to exact from the renowned enigma that stood before him. It must have been something important to have stolen the attention of someone as stoic as Lando Norris.

Lando, on the other hand, looked entirely unamused. He had no patience for any of the mad scientist’s little games today. “Guess there was a change of plans.”

There was a finality in Lando’s tone that told the older man that perhaps it’d be wise not to push further. At least if he wanted to keep his hands, that is.

Andrea hummed, flipping a page. “Well, it is of course good that you are here. The latest batch had inconsistencies—minor, but worth fixing before it hits the market.”

Lando only half-listened, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

If she could see him now, would she look at him the same way? Would she still call him after a long day just because she didn’t want to be alone? Would she still light up when she saw him standing outside and waiting for her?

He swallowed the thought down and forced himself to focus on the reports in front of him.

As he drove home that night, the question lingered in the back of his mind, crawling beneath his skin, irritating and impossible to ignore.

What would happen to his life if she knew?

If she knew that Liam was just a name, a borrowed skin that he slipped into when he was around her. If she knew that the money he used to pay for dinner, for drinks, for the casual ease with which he moved through life—it wasn’t from an investment firm or a startup or some vague business deal.

If she knew that he didn’t just know men like the Reaper’s Circle—he was the man they spoke about in hushed voices.

Would she still have laughed so easily last night? Would she still have smiled at him?

Or would she have looked at him the way everyone else did?

Would she have looked at him like he was a monster?

It didn't matter anyways. 

She didn’t know, and she never would.

Her voice echoed in his mind, and what followed it was the sharp awareness that somehow, despite all odds, she’d become the one real thing in a life built on fiction. Lando Norris may not have realized it, may have evaded standing in the light of this truth like that of so many others, but the truth was that he could no longer afford to lose Y/N. 

Not when he was just starting to believe he still had some pieces worth saving.

Lando stood in front of the door, coffee cup in one hand and a pastry bag in the other, debating for a moment whether or not this was a terrible idea. 

Probably. Scratch that– definitely.

He'd never been great with the whole "apology" thing (not that he’d ever actually tried), but now it seemed like the socially acceptable thing to do.

The door opened as she stepped outside, eyes scanning the hallway until they landed on him.

She paused, blocking the doorway. "You canceled on me last night," she said, sounding cross in a way that had his heart stuttering momentarily, until he realized it was more teasing than scolding.

He grinned then, holding up a cup of coffee and a small paper bag lightly stained with the butter of the still fresh baked goods that it contained. "I know, I know. But… I come bearing gifts."

Her eyes flicked to the coffee and the logo on the cup.

That looks familiar.

"Is that from… Brews?" she asked, suspicion lacing her voice.

"...Maybe," he replied carefully.

"Liam. It literally has the logo on it."

"Definitely from Brews then."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised when she noticed the drink he’d gotten her— a cardamom rose latte with a dash of cinnamon and just a pump of vanilla, chilled, not iced. He was even holding a bag with not one, but two of the pastry she always ordered on a whim whenever the mood struck: still warm from the oven almond croissants, complete with the little almond shavings and a dusting of powdered sugar. 

She took it without hesitation.

You do not get to be good-looking and also charming. That is so unfair!

“What was that?”

"Nothing! I mean, how did you—" She looked up at him, eyes still narrowed dubiously.

"Margot helped me out," he volunteered, trying to seem casual. His mind raced for a reasonable-sounding excuse. "She’s got a good memory."

She studied him for a moment longer, then sighed dramatically. "Hmm… I guess I have to forgive you then.”

“Mint,” he grinned.

“Just come in.”

As soon as she turned to head back inside, Lando pulled out his phone, flicking straight to his Notes app. He scrolled past a dozen other hastily typed entries—security codes, burner numbers, supply lists—and tapped out:

Brews: - Cardamon rose latte. with sinamon. + one vanila thing. Cold. But no ice. - Almond crossants. 2 of them? More?

The note joined an already ongoing list that had existed longer than he’d care to admit.

When he looked back up, she was already flopped onto the couch, pulling a blanket over her legs as she took another bite of her pastry. 

He followed her in, shutting the door behind him, feeling something loosen in his chest as he did.

There was always a weight on his shoulders, a second skin he carried whenever he stepped into the world as himself—as The Reaper, the strategist, the man who sat at tables where empires were built and destroyed.

But here—inside this apartment, in her presence—that weight fell away like an ill-fitting coat. He could be Liam here. Just Liam.

She settled back onto the couch, tucking her feet under her as she took a sip of the coffee.

I could get used to this. This is lovely.

“You get a free pass this time,” she said, still eyeing him over the rim of the cup, but the smile when she enjoys another satisfying sip is nothing short of radiant. 

It was strange—how easy it was to slip back into this, like shedding a skin. Like shaking off the remnants of who he was last night, the quiet footsteps in the warehouse, the cold efficiency of his work. Here, in the warmth of her apartment, with the distant hum of the dryer and the smell of cinnamon and coffee in the air, it was easier to just be... this. Whoever this was.

“You know,” she said after a beat, licking a crumb from her thumb before swallowing her bite, “next time you cancel on me, you’ll have to get something even nicer now. Ooh! Like one of those pastries from that one bakery in Nice.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “What, I cancel on you one time and now you’re extortin’ me for desserts?”

She grinned – sweet, a little lopsided, showing just a bit of her teeth. One of her real smiles, he noted. “Hey, I don’t make the rules,” she shrugged innocently,

Lando leaned back in his chair, considering absentmindedly. He could buy her the whole damn bakery if she wanted. Probably wouldn’t be the weirdest thing he’s done. But… maybe he’d just stick to the pastry.

“Which one?” he called out as she got up and headed toward the kitchen in search of a napkin for the pondered sugar she’d managed to get practically everywhere.

Not my fault. Everyone knows powdered sugar has a mind of its own.

She glanced back at him over her shoulder, eyes amused. “Just because?”

Lando rolled his eyes, tapping his fingers against his knee and doing a great impression of someone indifferent. 

“F’course. No other reason.”

a/n: i feel like i've been working this one for far too long so idek know what it says anymore. hope it makes sense. if not i'll cry

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Working at Millers bar, one night your drunk ex comes in to start trouble. Feelings grow for Joel but he thinks he’s no good for you.]

Smut, angst, slight mention of DV.

“Honey, I ain’t the man you think I am”

It was a typical late Friday night working at the Millers bar. The place was packed as Joel stood beside you pouring drinks. It usually always got like this on the weekends, which is why Joel had you working so you could gain the most tip. Him and Tommy would sometimes give you half of their tips at the end of a night, always looking out for you knowing you didn’t have much people who did.

It was nice having men like Joel and Tommy on your side…especially Joel. From the moment he gave you this job you found yourself liking him more and more. It was hard to stop yourself from staring, it was hard not to get a little jealous when you’d see women throw themselves at him. Women he was never interested in, he was a real loner when it came to dating…his daughter Sarah being his main priority.

“Hey honey, you alright?” Joels hand brushing past your arm as he walked by you.

“Yes, just trying to move quickly” you chuckled as you mixed a drink looking around the bar when your heart stopped. Your ex walking in through the front door clearly looking for someone.

Looking for you.

“Hey baby, good to see you” Jake spoke loudly as he walked up to the bar making Joel look up.

“Jake-“ you spoke nervously.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you” you poured the drink in a cup and handed it to the customer beside him with a smile.

“Of course you weren’t” he looked around the room before his eyes stopped on you.

“So can I have a drink, you know what I like” he winked at you as you stood still before feeling a slight nudge from Joel.

“You ok?”

“Yeah” you quickly smiled at Joel assuring him everything was fine.

Joel took a step back serving other customers as he kept an eye on Jake, he never liked him, he never trusted him. Tommy working beside him, he subtly tapped him on the arm and motioned in your direction.

“Keep an eye on them two, I gotta get some stuff from the back real quick”

“No worries, I’m watching him” Tommy whispered.

A half hour passed as Jake ordered another two drinks, he didn’t say much but you didn’t like the look he had. You could tell he was up to something.

“Let me asking you something, baby”

“What?” You crossed your arms as Joel stood close by.

“This where you met him?”

“What?” You asked confused as Jake chuckled sarcastically.

“Now you’re acting like you don’t know”

“Jake, what are you talking about?”

“You cheated on me, you think I don’t know?!” He suddenly yelled causing Joel to look over.

“Jake-“ you stepped closer to the bar that was between you both.

“I’m at work, don’t start. You’re drunk, you know I never cheated-“

“Don’t lie to me!” He yelled louder slamming his glass on the table.

“What’s his name?”

“There’s no other man!” You yelled back when Jake unexpectedly stood up and attempted to grab you by your wrist until Joel instantly stood before you pushing you behind him, blocking his reach.

“Get the hell out of here” Joel threw a towel over his shoulder as he leaned over the bar getting in Jake’s face who backed away.

“Go on, leave. You ain’t welcome here” Tommy stood beside Joel as the room went completely silent. Everyone staring at Jake as he angrily walked out slamming the doors shut. Everyone slowly went back to normal as Joel turned to you while Tommy went to make sure he had truly left.

“You alright?” He could tell you were a bit shaken up.

“Uh, yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry, I have no idea why he came in here like that”

“You don’t have to apologize” he assured you.

“You can go to the back, help with the dishes. You don’t have to stay out here” with a breath of relief you nodded.

“Thanks, Joel” he watched as you quickly walked off before getting back to working.

At the end of the night you hadn’t said much. He watched as you grabbed your purse before he stopped you.

“Let me give you a ride tonight, just incase you run into the nutcase” relieved that he offered you a ride you nodded and smiled.

The drive was silent after Joel made his first stop and dropped Tommy off at his girlfriend’s house. You sat in the passenger seat looking out the window not noticing how Joel looked over at you. Scratching his throat he tried to think of a way to bring up your situation without making you feel uncomfortable but before he spoke you unexpectedly bought it up.

“About today” you took a deep breath.

“It won’t happen again, he won’t ever disrupt the bar again like that-“

“He better not ever disrupt you like that again, cause I know that won’t ever happen in my bar again” he spoke confidently as he drove.

“Look, I know it ain’t my business but-“ he looked over at you during a red light.

“Ya gotta stay away from boys like that. That ain’t love, you think that boy has your best interest?”

“I know” you sighed.

“You’re better than that, doll. You’re a beautiful woman” your heart skipped a beat, had he not looked away to continue his drive he would’ve noticed how red your cheeks turned.

“Thanks” you whispered shyly brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I mean it, you need a more respectful man. A hard worker” the more he spoke the more you thought about him and your feelings for him, something you managed to hide all this time.

“These little boys don’t know how to handle a woman like yourself, you need someone more on your level, darlin’”

“Like you” you blurt out making him quickly look your way.

“Oh no no, that’s not what I meant-“

“You’re a hard worker, you’re a good man, Joel. You’re respectful and I-I guess….I guess that’s why I’ve always…had these feelings for you” you couldn’t believe you were admitting to the feelings you had for him..something you never thought you would do. Joel took a deep breath as his hand tightened on the steering wheel.

“Honey, I ain’t the man you think I am” his voice was hoarse as he spoke, his eyes on the road.

“Joel I-“

“I’m no good for you, you don’t need someone like me, trust me plus I’m old enough to be your damn daddy” he pulled up on your block. You could feel your stomach turn from his rejection, you felt like an idiot.

“Look-“ Joel turned towards you.

“I think you’re beautiful, you’re smart, shit I’d be lucky to have a woman like you but…I just ain’t all that good” you refused to believe that.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said anything” you tried disconnecting your seatbelt, struggling to remove it. Joel helped you un click it as you refused to look him in the eye.

“No, don’t be sorry-“

“Just forget I said anything please” you opened the car door quickly letting yourself out. Before Joel could say another word you walked off in embarrassment. He watched as you walked in your front door, his eyes never leaving you as he took a deep breath. Joel never had a clue this entire time you had feelings for him. Of course he’d be lying if he said he didn’t check you out at times but he never let you catch him. He never let it get over his head.

The next day you anxiously walked in to your shift for the evening. Tommy behind the bar serving a drink as you put your bag down.

“Not too busy yet?” You sighed looking around.

“No, Joel’s gonna come in a little later by the way. He’s gonna close with you tonight-“ you quickly looked up at him.

“I thought it was your turn to close with me”

“Well, I got some things I need to do. I’ll close with you tomorrow.” Taking a deep breath you decided to go about your shift. What was the big deal? You admitted your feelings to Joel and he rejected you, nothing you couldn’t handle…right?

Grabbing some more liquor from the stock room you came out to Joel walking in your direction, your heart instantly dropping. Of course you tried to look down acting as if you didn’t see him but he knew better, yet Tommy intervened before he could say a word to you.

Closing your eyes with relief you walked back to the bar and proceeded to serve the customers.

After some time Joel came back out and couldn’t help but notice what you were wearing. A short jean skirt with a black top, he noticed how the men kept their eyes on you, something he never really liked.

“Hey, sweet cheeks, can I get a refill” a man sitting at the bar grinned handing you his glass. Joel watched as you innocently turned and bent over to grab a fresh cup, the man waiting for his drink tilting his head trying to get a glimpse of whatever he could see beneath your skirt. Just as Joel took a step forward you quickly stood up and turned to the man oblivious to what he was doing.

“Here you go” you smiled not knowing Joel had been watching the entire interaction.

“Might want another one very soon, don’t go too far” the man chuckled with a wink.

“Well, just let me know whenever you’re ready” you smiled before turning and accidentally running into Joel. When the hell did he get that close?

“Hey, why don’t you do me a favor and go take care of those ladies for me” he motioned towards a group of women sitting on the other end.

“But he-“

“I got him” Joel assured you.

Quietly you nodded and did as he asked.

Joel watched as the man drank himself away before calling out for his next drink.

“Another one please..” he slurred as Joel walked towards him.

“No, no, I want that- sexy server lady..” he grinned looking at you from across the bar.

“Yeah well, she’s busy right now” Joel grabbed the cup and served him as you continued working. The man shrugged and continued to have his drink as his attention went elsewhere.

The night went on when you noticed one of your good friends walk in. She smiled at you eagerly before sitting in front of you.

“Why do you have that look on your face?”

You immediately sensed she was up to something.

“Don’t kill me, ok?”

“What, Julie?” You sighed placing your hand on your hip.

“Jake wants to talk to you” she blurt out, the mention of Jake’s name catching Joel’s attention. His back to you as he wiped down some cups, eager to hear what you would say.

“And-“

“I told him you’d meet him after work” she squeezed her eyes shut as she quickly spoke.

“Are you kidding me? No! Why would you tell him that?!”

“Jake loves you he just…he just gets mad at times like any man would and you know, sometimes he might have technically put his hands on you but-“ Joel turned his head looking back.

“Technically?!” You were insulted, you couldn’t believe the way Julie spoke.

“I don’t want to see him and I think you should leave too.”

“Oh come on, don’t be so sensitive-“

“Bye, Julie.” Joel heard your voice crack as you quickly walked off. Taking a deep breath he turned to Julie narrowing his eyes on her without her noticing.

“What’s wrong?” Tommy noticed Joel’s expression just as Julie got up and walked out of the bar.

“Nothin’ watch the bar for me” he threw a rag on the counter and walked to the back room to find you.

In the room where all the supplies were you stood behind a shelf hiding when you heard the door open. Quickly wiping your tears off your face you heard Joel’s voice.

“Hey, you alright?”

“Yes-yes” you cleared your throat as you came out from your hiding space.

“Sorry, I just needed a minute, my friend was just-“

“That ain’t ya friend” he bluntly cut you off. You knew he was right and quietly nodded.

“If anyone comes in that you don’t want here you just tell me and they’re gone, honey. Tommy and I ain’t gonna let anyone bother you, ya hear me?”

“Thanks, Joel” you whispered looking away awkwardly. This being the first actual interaction you both had since you confessed your feelings to him. Now here he was seeing you cry like an idiot. Yet, Joel was thinking of you as anything but an idiot. Joel found himself replaying what you had said the night before from the moment he woke up that morning. Your confession triggering something inside him, curiosity maybe, he didn’t know, either way he couldn’t stop it.

“I better get back” you quickly attempted to walk past him until he caught you by your arm. Slowly pulling you a couple steps back so that you were face to face with him he moved a step closer. Not having any idea what he was thinking you froze, until you felt his large hand gently grabbed your waist. His dark eyes lost in yours, he leaned in and took your lips with his. His free hand caressing your face when Tommy’s voice made you both quickly jump apart.

“I’m gonna leave soon, Joel” Tommy knocked on the door. Quickly you walked out, running into Tommy who realized you were acting strangely.

“Yeah, yeah, I know” Joel called out a bit irritated by his brother’s interruption.

“I’ll be right there!” He continued.

Rushing back to the bar you continued your work as if nothing happened, yet your stomach was swirling inside, butterflies that you could feel in between your thighs.

What the hell just happened?

Unsure what to think of anything you did your best to simply focus on your customers, that is until slowly everyone began to leave.

Soon the bar was officially empty, you watched as Joel locked the front doors as you began to clean. Collecting all the empty glasses from around the bar you tossed them in a bin as Joel wiped down the tables. Of course you felt his eyes on you, yet you did your best to ignore it, until you found yourself stuck in a corner unable to get past him.

“Excuse me” you whispered awkwardly.

Joel turned to the side putting his hands up allowing you a small space to scoot in front of him. Just as you proceeded to move past him he blocked you with arm, keeping you in front of him.

“You avoidin’ me, honey?” His question leaving you tongue tied.

“No, um, I just- no, it’s just” a smirk appearing on his lips.

“Don’t tell me I scared you away, princess”

Princess.

Your heart fluttering in your chest.

“No, it’s just after last night…I, I didn’t expect that” as you spoke you watched his eyes become heavily distracted by your lips.

Joel couldn’t fight himself, as much as he felt he shouldn’t have been even feeling this way he let his temptation win. All he meant to do was kiss you and that he did. This time his kisses were more intense before you gently pushed him away.

“Look” you moved quickly around the bar.

“I don’t want this to get complicated.”

“It ain’t” he assured you as he slowly followed you around. Your eyes meeting his lips as he pulled you to him once again and continued kissing you. Moaning into his lips next thing he knew he picked you up sitting you on the bar. Joel placed himself between your legs as you pulled him in closer when your phone began to vibrate. Taking your phone out of your pocket to put it aside, he looked down and noticed Jake’s name lighting up on the screen.

“Pick it up” Joel whispered hoarsely.

“I don’t-“

“Just do it.”

With a sigh you gave in and hesitantly flipped open the phone.

“Hello?”

“Where have you been? I know Julie told you I wanted to talk to you-“ Joel grabbed the phone from you unexpectedly and took over.

“She’s busy right now. If I see you or you send one of your little friends again I promise you I will hurt you with my bare hands.” Jake stood silent in shock as Joel flipped the phone shut and put it aside. You sat with your lips parted not expecting for him to have done that. You were surprised Jake didn’t try calling back.

“You threatened him” you raised your brows as he looked at you with no regret.

“Mhm.” His nostrils flared.

Never had you seen Joel hurt a fly, seeing this protective, threatening side of him was something new to you.

“What if he comes here, you’d actually hurt him?” Joel chuckled sarcastically.

“Like I said, princess, I ain’t the man you think I am.” He leaned in whispering close to your lips.

“So…you’re a bad man?”

“Only if you want me to be” his lips touched yours once more before he suddenly yet slowly got down on his knees.

“What are you doing?” His face between your legs, you felt his fingers gently pushed aside your underwear revealing your pussy lips to him. His warm breath against you, you gasped feeling him kiss your inner thigh. Slow kisses leading all the way to your core. He felt your legs slightly tense up around him, he could tell you wanted to feel more. His fingers gently parting your lips allowing him to lean in and taste you. A rush of pleasure traveling up your belly, his eyes meeting yours as he slowly flicked his tongue against your clit.

“Oh-“ you threw your head back as he moved his tongue faster. His arms now beneath your legs pulling you closer to the edge. Your moans alone making him rock hard he needed to loosen up his pants. Your hand brushing through his hair as the other held you up when Joel moaned. The vibration of his deep moan against clit making your body arch against him. Your legs harder to control, Joel knew you were about to cum.

“Please don’t stop-“ you whimpered as he moved his tongue vigorously. His eyes watching as you rolled your eyes back, your lips parted but no sound came out. Your thighs trembling on his shoulders when you finally released a scream of pleasure…

Joel knew he needed you in that very moment. Barely having recovered from the intense orgasm he gave you, still dazed and out of breath, you watched Joel quickly stand up and pull his cock out.

“Joel” you whispered before feeling him rub his cock against you. His breathing growing heavier as he felt your cum all over him.

“Now you’re ready for me” before you could even comprehend what he said, he quickly slid himself in you. Making a sound of desperate relief to finally feel himself wrapped in your warmth, Joel pulled you close moving his lips agonists yours. You moaned as he plunged deeply into you making you take every inch. Each stroke bringing you both closer to climax as you clung onto him. You had fantasized about this for so long yet your fantasies didn’t come close to how erotic this was. Joel breaking into a sweat unbuttoned his shit and threw it aside, his hands pulling you closer against him until next thing you knew he was carrying you in the air. Keeping himself in you he leaned you against the wall and began to thrust his hips faster.

“Fuck-“ he whispered breathlessly against your ear. Your body getting pushed up against the wall as he grunted with each thrust until you felt him tense up.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-“ he quickly pulled out as you let yourself down and got on your knees. Taking Joel by surprise you opened your mouth and without questioning a thing he grabbed a hand full of your hair. Guiding your mouth to his cock he fully came in your mouth.

“Oh baby..” he cried out, his brows furrowing watching as you swallowed every drop of him. His grip on your hair loosened as you looked up and noticed how weak he became. Joel out of breath took a step back barely able to keep himself balanced.

“Holy shit” he whispered as you wiped your lips and stood up.

“I guess you’re not the only one who could be bad, huh” you teased making him smirk.

“I wasn’t expecting that” he panted with a chuckle.

That night Joel drove you home as you sat in the passenger seat in silence. Unsure of what to say, Joel himself not exactly sure how to go about this. Just as you were about to speak Joel spoke at the same time cutting you off.

“Go ahead, baby. Say what you wanna say” he pulled up in front of your house. You took a deep breath and shook your head.

“No, you go”

“Alright” he cleared his throat, his eyes on the street before him.

“I wanna keep seeing you” he blurt out.

“Oh, you’re not bad for me anymore?” You teased making him roll his eyes as he turned to you.

“I wouldn’t hurt you, I just wouldn’t exactly be good news to anyone who’d disrespect you. Sometimes I can take things too far and-“ he adjusted himself in his seat.

“I don’t want you to have to see that.”

“I doubt I would” you assured him, you simply couldn’t picture him being the out of control man he swore he could be.

“I better go, I’ll see you tomorrow” you opened the door letting yourself out.

“I’ll call you tonight” he said rather quickly making you look up.

“I mean…if you want me to.”

You smiled as he looked at you with desperate puppy dog eyes.

“Yes, Joel. Of course I want you to”

Turning away you walked to your door as Joel watched and made sure you got in safe not knowing Jake had been watching in his car at the end of the street…

(I know I have so many second parts to catch up to! I promise I will get to each of them! I just excited when I get new request or new ideas.)

Tag list: (if your name isn’t here it’s because tumblr gives some accounts trouble that I tag and it won’t come up. Not sure why)

@harriedandharassed @locaparapedrito @untamedheart81 @rosaliedepp @illyanam1011 @hopefulatrocity @tikikiki @thewritermj @l0veang3l @moonpascal @katmoonz @joelsteinfeld @picketniffler @stcrrjoon @itsamandi @starry-eyes-love @theoraekenslover @psychoenergy @joeldjarin @bambisweethearts @baronessvonglitter @mangoslushcrush @guelyury @mynameistokyo @katiemarieeee

[zeroseuniverse]

Customer Service

Word Count: 721 Summary: "Flirting on the job? Really?" Pairing: Diner workers Riki X Fem Reader

Navigation

The diner buzzed with chaos on a typical Friday night. The sound of sizzling grills, clinking dishes, and the hum of conversation filled the air. She  weaved expertly between tables, balancing a tray of burgers and fries while delivering her signature snark to a table of frat boys who were trying—unsuccessfully—to flirt with her.

"Hey, sweetheart," one of them said with a smirk, "how about you serve me a smile with that burger?"

Without missing a beat, she plunked the plate down in front of him. "Sure thing, here’s a smile," she said, flashing him a sarcastic grin. "It’s $5.99 extra. Want me to put it on your tab?"

The table erupted in laughter, though the frat boy looked like he wanted to crawl under the table. She  turned and caught Riki watching her from behind the counter, trying to stifle a laugh. He leaned casually against the milkshake machine, his messy hair flopping into his eyes, and his grin as bright as the diner’s neon sign.

"Need help out there, babe?" he called, flipping a towel over his shoulder.

She shot him a mock glare. "What I need is for you to stop standing there looking pretty and start bussing tables before I strangle you with that towel."

"Yikes, you sound scary," Riki teased, grabbing a tray of empty dishes from the counter. He breezed past her, planting a quick kiss on her cheek as he went.

"Flirting on the job? Really?" she said, but there was no hiding the smile tugging at her lips.

It wasn’t easy working together. The diner was a pressure cooker of rude customers, understaffed shifts, and an ever-demanding manager. But somehow, she and Riki made it work—or at least, they tried.

Riki had endless energy, bouncing from one task to the next with an enthusiasm that could’ve been annoying if it weren’t so endearing. He charmed customers effortlessly, especially the older regulars, who loved his boyish grin and sunny demeanor.

On the other hand, she was the glue holding everything together. She had a knack for diffusing tense situations and keeping the kitchen staff from losing their minds. But she was also quick to call people out when they stepped out of line—whether it was a customer snapping their fingers at her or the manager cutting her break short.

The two of them had their rhythm: She kept things efficient and under control, while Riki brought the lightheartedness that made even the worst shifts bearable.

One night, after a particularly grueling dinner rush, the two of them collapsed into a booth at the back of the diner. It was nearly midnight, and the place had finally quieted down.

Riki slumped against the seat, his apron streaked with ketchup and grease. "I swear, if I have to smile at one more customer tonight, my face is gonna fall off."

She snorted, sliding a plate of leftover pie toward him. "You mean your charm has limits? Shocking."

Riki grabbed a fork and took a bite of the pie, grinning. "I’ll have you know I’m charming 24/7. That’s why you’re dating me, isn’t it?"

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. "Please, I’m dating you because I lost a bet."

"Ouch," Riki said, clutching his chest in mock pain. "That’s cold, Babe. Real cold."

They laughed together, the kind of laughter that came from knowing you were both in the same boat, rowing through the chaos side by side.

As the clock neared 1 a.m., they cleaned up the last of the tables and locked up the diner. Outside, the neon sign flickered, casting a pinkish glow on the empty parking lot.

Riki grabbed Y/N’s hand as they walked to her beat-up old car. "Hey," he said, his voice softer now, "thanks for putting up with me tonight. I know I probably drive you crazy sometimes."

She looked at him, her sarcastic edge softening. "You do drive me crazy," she admitted. "But you also make this place a little less miserable. So... thanks for that."

He grinned, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her forehead. "Anytime, babe."

As they climbed into the car and drove off into the night, the diner faded into the background, but their laughter echoed, carrying them forward into whatever chaos tomorrow’s shift would bring.

[retrolvr4]

I’d Fix It If I Could

Darry Curtis x Female Reader

Pt 1

Warnings- Smut, fingering, oral (female receiving), p in v, reader has female anatomy, praise, orgasm denial if you squint

A/n- you don’t have to read the first part to understand the second! Thank you all so much for all the support on my previous fic’s, I appreciate it so much 💗 Hope you enjoy this one!

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You had fixed Dinner for Soda, Pony, Darry and yourself. The rest of the boys having gone off to other places for nightly activities. 

“I know a hot meal probably isnt ideal considering the circumstances but I hope you boys still like it” you said as you set down plates of spaghetti in front of the boys. 

“Dont worry your pretty little head, this looks delicious, thank you for making dinner darling” Darry said to you and gave you a kiss on the cheek. Resulting in a ‘yuck’ from Pony and Soda. 

You were grateful he allowed himself to sit down and let you make and serve dinner. He was always working or busy with something and you enjoyed being able to help out. 

“Y/n it looks real good and i'm always starving after work” Soda complemented 

“Yeah y/n, I've been wantin’ spaghetti real bad, thanks for makin’ it for me” Pony gushed 

You laughed and thanked them all for the praises on the simple dish. 

The four of you sat down for dinner, Pony talking about the latest book he’d read, Soda talking about weird customers he ran into all while Darry watched you adoringly, he loved how good you got along with Pony and Soda and how much you cared for them. Always asking about their days and laughing at their stories, comforting them if something went awry, and threatening to beat up guys double your size if you heard they hurt Pony. 

After the four of you had eaten, Pony and Soda headed to their rooms while you and Darry cleaned up dinner. Darry was washing the dishes while you cleaned off plates from the table. 

“I never knew a man could look so hot washing dishes” you giggled, slightly mesmerized by Darry’s biceps and his muscular figure he had built from the long days spent at work. You set the dishes down in the sink then wrapped your arms around Darry’s waist from behind, you slowly began to press gentle kisses on to his back, working your way up to his shoulder blades. 

“Doll you can’t keep teasin’ me like this” he groaned “I’m not gonna make it if you keep getting me all worked up” You felt him shiver 

“What if I want you to be all worked up” you whispered back 

“Well thankfully all the dishes are clean” He replied drying his hands off with a towel 

“But don’t they need dried and put away” you teased, continuing to work slow kisses along his shoulder. 

Darry turned himself around so he was now facing you, you laid your head on his chest and were now hugging his waist. He held the back of your head with his hands, playing with your hair and massaging your scalp. You sighed contentedly at his actions, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to be engulfed in his scent. 

You heard the creak of a door opening then the padding of footsteps down the hall. You turned your head to face who you heard, not leaving Darry’s arms. You saw Soda giving you an amused look and Pony standing behind him with a teasing grossed out face. 

“I’m gonna go meet with Steve, there’s some party he wants to go to tonight, I probably won’t be back till late” Soda told you and Darry

“And I wanna go to the drive in, I told Johnny I’d meet him there, I’ll probably be home late too” Pony chimed in

“Alright, just be safe and I’ll tan both of your hides if you're not back home by the time I’m up tomorrow morning” Darry threatened, only half kidding. 

You left Darry’s embrace to give Soda and Pony quick hugs “have fun, and call if you need anything” You said to them, both of them leaving soon after. 

“We got lucky” you smiled, heading back over to Darry “got the house all to ourselves” 

“Exactly what we needed sweet thing” Darry cooed, he picked you up, holding on tightly to your waist. Seconds later his lips were on yours, hungrily kissing you. He moved you over to set you down on the counter, still kissing you needily. 

He moved his hands down to your thighs running his fingers along them as he began to kiss down your neck and onto your collar bone. 

“Been needing you so bad” he muttered between kisses, small whimpers coming from you. You worked your hands through his hair, pulling on the strands when he would suck and gently bite on your skin. 

“Youre gonna leave marks” you said softly, not opposed to the idea but wanting to make sure he knew. 

“I want to honey” he replied, looking up at you with big eyes “want you to think about me when you see em’” 

Your stomach flipped at the sight of him, the lustful look in his eyes, the small smirk that played on his face, as you felt him gently running his hands along your thighs and hips. 

“Darry I need you” you whimpered out. 

Darry quickly picked you back up and carried you down the hall to his room, softly setting you down on his bed. He climbed on top of you and tugged your tank top over your head, his lips back on yours in an instant. He unclasped your bra with ease, throwing it to the side. 

He pulled back from you to admire your figure “You’re so beautiful my sweet girl” he praised

You blushed at his complements and pulled him back into you, kissing him slowly and sweetly, in contrast to the fast pace that had previously been set. 

You tangled your hands into his hair and he moved one of his hands to your breast, he cupped it then gently began toying with your nipple, slowly rubbing circles and lightly pinching. The sensation made you moan softly and he groaned at the noises you were producing. 

You began to play with the hem of his shirt, slowly pulling it up, hinting at what you were wanting. 

“Words baby” he said, noticing your actions

“Can I take your shirt off?” you shyly asked him 

“course you can” he replied sweetly

You lifted his shirt over his head, admiring his toned figure for a moment before you crawled into his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist, and began kissing his neck, moving your way down to his collarbone. His quick breaths and grunts had you pooling with arousal, you felt his erection on your thigh so you knew you werent the only one getting worked up. 

He began to toy with your waistband, “love when you wear these shorts, they look so beautiful on you” he groaned out, you hummed in response. 

“can I take em’ off?” he asked you sweetly 

“Yes, please honey” you said eagerly, and he moved you onto your back, shimmying the shorts down your soft legs. 

Darry hovered over you for a moment before leaning down to give you a loving kiss, then working his way down your body, kissing every part of you. He stopped just below your belly button. Looking up at you with loving eyes “this okay?” 

You nodded quickly, desperately needing him closer to where you desired him most. 

He pulled your undies down and placed a sweet kiss on your swollen clit. He quickly licked up the arousal that had been forming “so wet for me” he muttered, tongue diving between your folds. 

He slowly pushed two fingers into you, you groaned at the sensation and grabbed onto his hair, it had once been cleanly slicked back but you had made a mess of it by now. 

You felt a sensation building in your stomach as Darry worked his fingers in and out of you, curling them to hit the soft spongy spot inside of you. 

Just as he was about to push you over the edge he quickly pulled away. You whined at the loss of contact and he shushed you.

“Can you wait a little bit for me baby? You’re doing so good” he cooed 

You groaned but agreed to his request.

He unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down along with his underwear. 

You nearly drooled at the sight in front of you, Darry was hard and throbbing and the look in his eyes told you he desperately needed you. 

He moved so he was hovering over you, your gaze met his and you gave him a nod to signal that you were ready. He lined himself up with your entrance and slowly began to push into you. 

You gasped at the sensation, pressure building as your body tried to adjust to his size. 

“Youre doing so good for me” Darry praised “you okay honey?” he asked, wanting to know before he pushed further into you. You nodded and he pushed into you the rest of the way. You were completely filled with him and he groaned at the pressure of your walls clinging to him. 

He began to thrust in and out of you, slowly at first but your whines of pleasure encouraged him to move quicker. He moved his face into the crook of your neck in an unsuccessful attempt to muffle his moans. You were a mess underneath him, moaning at the sensation with each move of his hips, you were frantically grabbing him anywhere you could, squeezing his biceps, scratching his back, tugging on his hair, any kind of contact you could get with him. 

“Fuck” Darry groaned “feel so good doll” he managed to get out between heavy breathes. 

You felt your orgasm approaching as pressure built in your stomach. 

“I’m so close Dare” you cried out. He quickly moved his lips to yours, swallowing your moans, he continued to thrust into you, hitting the perfect spot every time. 

You sloppily kissed him as you felt your release nearing, one of your hands holding on to the side of his face while the other tugged on his hair. He held tightly onto your hips holding you in place as he fucked you. He felt you clenching around him knowing he was nearing his release as well. 

“It’s okay baby” He cooed to you, signaling to you to allow yourself to release all the pressure that had been building. 

With a few more sloppy thrusts you were pushed over the edge, the pressure releasing as you were thrown into pure bliss. When Darry felt your walls clench around him he was soon releasing inside of you. Groaning as the two of you rode out your highs together. 

When you had caught your breath, you kissed him on the forehead, he was a sweaty mess but he looked so handsome. Both of you whispered ‘I love you’s’ and Darry praised “you did so good, you're so beautiful” 

After sweet kisses and giggles Darry stood up to go run a bath for you. You whined at the loss of his contact “I’m just gonna start a bath so I can get you cleaned up, I’ll be right back” he said with a small laugh.

You sat up and threw Darry’s previously discarded shirt on to cover up your exposed body. 

Darry was back seconds later as he had said and he raised his eyebrows at you wearing his shirt “practically swimming in that thing” he chuckled as he moved towards you and placed a kiss on your forehead. He wrapped his arms under your legs and back and picked you up to carry you to the bathroom. 

“Darry I can walk” you said with a teasing attitude

“Nope, you're getting carried” He responded and kissed your forehead. 

Darry set you down on the countertop in the bathroom and helped you pull the shirt off, he then picked you up and set you back down in the bath, now filled with warm water. 

He helped you wash your body, massaging and scratching your back in the process. 

After you were cleaned up he’d given you a clean shirt of his per your request, you told him it was still too hot to put your pajamas on and you batted your eyes at him as you asked if you could just wear one of his shirts to bed. He agreed of course, knowing he couldn't say no to you especially when you looked at him like that. 

Both of you laid down in bed, worn out from your previous activities. Darry placed a hand on your thigh, rubbing small circles along your hip as the two of you fell asleep. 

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[julietsf1]

Crushes and Cortados - Franco Colapinto x Reader

summary: as a barista you see a lot of weird customers in a day, and this one Argentinian boy who keeps coming in every day is definitely one of them.

content: meet cute, fluff, Barista!Reader

AN: As a Francaise, I am beyond happy Franco is with Alpine this season! Finally some reason to root for my own country lmao

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Madrid in the fall was pure magic. The late afternoon sunlight painted the streets gold, filtering through rustling plane trees as locals bustled past in their scarves and coats. Inside the café, the air was warm and rich with the scent of espresso, the quiet hum of Spanish conversation mingling with the soft strumming of a flamenco guitar on the radio.

You stood behind the counter, wiping down the espresso machine, relishing the peaceful moment before the next customer walked in.

And then, he appeared.

The door swung open with a soft chime, and you glanced up to see a boy who looked like he belonged in a Polaroid picture—slightly tousled dark curls, ridiculously green eyes, and the kind of smile that could probably get him out of trouble more often than not. He wasn’t overdressed like a tourist, but he didn’t look like a typical local, either. Too comfortable, too at ease—like he had already decided he liked this place.

And then, he spotted you.

His smile turned into something more mischievous, and before you could even process it, he was walking straight to the counter with way too much confidence for someone who had never been here before.

“Hola,” he greeted, voice smooth and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world.

You blinked at him. “Hola.”

He stared at the menu for exactly two seconds, tilting his head as if contemplating some deep, existential question. Then, his eyes flicked back to you.

“What do you recommend?”

There was something off about the way he asked—something too casual, too charming. You had worked in this café long enough to know when a guy was genuinely lost and when he was just trying to start a conversation.

You leaned against the counter, unimpressed. “You mean… coffee-wise? Or in general?”

His smile widened. “Both.”

You exhaled a laugh, tilting your head. “For coffee? A cortado. Classic, strong, doesn’t waste your time.”

“And in general?” he pressed, as if this was an actual conversation we were having and not him blatantly flirting.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Find better ways to flirt than pretending you don’t know what to order.”

That caught him off guard. He blinked, then let out a genuine, delighted laugh, like you had just won a game he hadn’t even realized he was playing.

“Damn,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Okay, that was good.”

You smirked, already moving to make his drink.

When you slid the cortado across the counter, he reached for it—but not before his fingers brushed yours.

You didn’t react. Not outwardly, at least.

But when you glanced up, he was already watching you, eyes flickering with something teasing yet soft.

“Gracias,” he murmured.

And then, as if he hadn’t just weirdly flirted with you for no reason, he took his cortado, walked to a table by the window, and sat down like he had been coming here for years.

You exhaled, shaking your head.

Weird.

…

After that day, he came back.

And then he came back again.

And again.

It became a thing.

Same time. Same cortado. Same grin that made you want to throw a dish towel at his stupidly cute face.

And he was always talking to you.

He asked about your classes, your favorite part of Madrid, whether you preferred cats or dogs. He teased you when you were grumpy, made you laugh when you were exhausted, remembered little things you told him without you realizing.

And the flirting?

Oh, it never stopped.

One day, he leaned across the counter, chin resting in his hand as he watched you make his drink.

“You know,” he mused, “I read somewhere that people who drink cortados are very mysterious.”

You snorted. “You just made that up.”

“No, really,” he insisted, trying to sound serious but failing because his eyes were sparkling with amusement. “It means they’re deep thinkers, passionate, probably a little misunderstood—”

“Have you heard yourself yap, darling? You are far from mysterious.”

“Wow.” He placed a hand on his chest in mock offense. “And here I thought we were friends.”

You smirked. “We’re not friends. You’re just a strange guy who orders the same coffee every day and refuses to sit anywhere except that exact same table.”

“Ah,” he clicked his tongue. “Or maybe I just like the view.”

Your hands froze mid-wipe.

He was too pleased with himself, watching your reaction like it was his favorite part of the day.

You rolled your eyes hard enough to injure yourself and turned away, pretending to organize the espresso cups.

Behind you, you heard his quiet chuckle, followed by the familiar sound of him picking up his cup and heading to his usual seat.

Damn him.

…

At first, it was nothing. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

Franco was just a customer. A customer who happened to flirt a lot. A customer who smiled at you like he knew something you didn’t. A customer who remembered little details you barely recalled telling him.

A customer you found yourself thinking about—just a little too often.

It started with small things.

One afternoon, you were making someone’s latte when the café door chimed, and—without even thinking about it—you glanced up.

Franco.

Hair slightly messier than usual, backpack slung over one shoulder, already grinning before he even reached the counter.

Your stomach did this annoying little flip, and it took you a second to realize why.

You had been waiting for him.

And that wasn’t even the worst part.

The worst part was that, when you realized it, you smiled.

It only got worse from there.

One day, after your shift, you were walking home, tired, your mind fogged up with school assignments, deadlines, and the general exhaustion of life.

And then, out of nowhere, you found yourself laughing.

It was one of his dumb jokes. One so profoundly stupid, you’d barely managed a blink when he’d said it. Something about how drinking cortados every day was “building his immunity” in case he was ever kidnapped. He’d even added, “It’s all about preparation, you know. Survival of the fittest. And right now? I’m basically the Usain Bolt of caffeine endurance.”At the time, you had rolled your eyes.

But now? Now, you were walking through Madrid laughing to yourself like an absolute idiot.

That’s when it hit you.

You liked him.

Not just in a he’s-funny-and-charming kind of way.

Not even in a he’s-cute-and-flirty kind of way.

No.

You liked him in a this boy has somehow become the best part of my day, and I didn’t even notice it happening kind of way.

And that realization?

Absolutely terrifying.

…

The next afternoon, you tried to act normal. Tried being the key word.

When Franco walked in, you were ready—arms crossed, expression unreadable, the picture of total indifference.

He approached the counter, completely unaware of the internal crisis you were currently battling.

Then, as always, he leaned against the counter, tilting his head in that ridiculously smug way.

“Buenas,” he said, flashing his signature grin.

And that’s when you knew.

You weren’t going to fight it anymore.

You weren’t just warming up to him—you were already lost, and the only thing left to do was even the playing field.

So, for the first time, you mirrored him.

Leaning against the counter, resting your chin in your hand, mimicking the way he always did it.

His eyebrows lifted—curious, amused, interested.

“Let me guess,” you said before he could speak. “Cortado?”

His grin widened immediately, like he had been waiting for this moment.

“You really know me.”

You tilted your head, tapping your fingers against the countertop. “More like you’re predictable.”

“Ah,” he clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Or maybe I just know what I want.”

Your stomach flipped before you could stop it.

But instead of panicking, instead of letting him win, you tilted your head further, just slightly, and raised an eyebrow.

“Right,” you mused, voice light, teasing. “And what else do you want, Franco?”

For the first time, he blinked.

Just for a fraction of a second, as if he hadn’t expected you to actually challenge him.

And then—he laughed.

Head tilting back, genuine amusement spilling into his smile, a hand rubbing the back of his neck as if he had just been caught off guard.

“Oh,” he murmured, shaking his head. “You’re trouble.”

You shrugged, smirking. “I learn from the best.”

His eyes crinkled at the edges, full of something warm, teasing, dangerously fond.

And that was it.

That was the moment.

Because from then on, everything between you changed.

…

It was a slow afternoon, the kind where the café hummed with a lazy warmth, the scent of espresso lingering in the air, blending with the sweetness of pastries cooling on the counter. Outside, the sun dipped lower, stretching golden light through the wide glass windows, making everything glow.

Franco had been here for nearly an hour, which was longer than usual. He sat in his usual spot by the window, tapping his fingers idly against his empty cortado cup, gaze flickering between the street outside and—you.

You could feel it.

The weight of his attention, the way he kept watching you as if he had something to say, but every time you caught his gaze, he looked away, chewing on his lip, pretending to check his phone.

Which was weird.

Because Franco never hesitated.

His presence in the café had always been effortless, his flirty remarks sliding into conversation like second nature, his teasing confidence something you had grown accustomed to. It was his thing—leaning against the counter with that knowing smirk, making some ridiculous comment just to see you roll your eyes. It was a routine, a pattern, one you had started to enjoy way too much.

But today, something was different.

You glanced at him again.

He was still staring at his cup.

Still not walking up to the counter.

It took another few minutes before he finally stood up, slipping his phone into his pocket, stretching his arms over his head like he was shaking off whatever thoughts had been keeping him rooted to that seat. He made his way toward the counter a little slower than usual, his steps lacking their usual lightness, as if he was deliberately dragging them out.

When he reached the counter, he didn’t lean against it like he usually did. Didn’t rest his chin in his hand, didn’t flash that effortless grin.

Instead, he hesitated.

You raised an eyebrow, already reaching for a cup. “Another cortado for you?”

Franco exhaled a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh… no. Actually.”

You blinked. That was new.

He hesitated again, shifting his weight slightly, his fingers drumming against the counter before he finally looked at you properly.

“Actually… I was thinking maybe I could see you sometime.” He paused. “Some place that’s not here.”

The words hung between you, heavy and sudden, but not entirely unexpected.

Because deep down, you had been waiting for this moment.

You had felt it coming.

Felt it in the way he lingered a little longer each time he came in, in the way his teasing had softened into something fonder, in the way his eyes flickered to your lips sometimes when you laughed.

And yet—hearing it aloud still sent a jolt of something sharp through your chest.

Your first instinct was to deflect, to act like this wasn’t a big deal. Because if you let yourself think about it too much, you might just start realizing that your stomach was doing things and your heart was beating faster and—

You smirked, crossing your arms. “There’s this really cute café on the other side of town—”

And then—he laughed.

Like, really laughed.

Not his usual amused chuckle, not one of those half-smirks he usually gave when you tried to banter back. This was a proper, head-tilted-back, actual laughter, the kind that made his shoulders shake slightly, the kind that caught you completely off guard.

You frowned, confused. “What?”

Franco wiped at his eye, still grinning. “I need to be honest with you. I don’t actually like coffee.”

Silence.

You blinked at him. Once. Twice.

Then, finally, you leaned forward, elbows against the counter, staring him down like he had just spoken in another language.

“You’re joking.”

He held up his hands in surrender, grinning like a guilty criminal caught in the act. “Nope.”

“You—” You gestured at him wildly. “You have been drinking cortados every single day for weeks?”

Franco shrugged, completely unbothered. “What can I say?” He flashed that infuriating, ridiculously boyish smile, the one that had always made you a little weak in the knees. “You make terrible coffee taste good.”

You stared at him, processing.

Then—you burst out laughing.

“For what?” Your hands flailing as if you could somehow pluck the answer from the air. “For this? For me?”

“Well, yeah.” He shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You blinked at him, utterly dumbfounded. “You drank all that… espresso and milk, knowing full well you didn’t like it?”

“Every last drop,” he confirmed, looking far too proud of himself.

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe.” He leaned on the counter, resting his chin in his hand as his grin turned softer, more teasing. “But it worked, didn’t it? You’re talking to me now.”

You threw your hands up. “Oh my God. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard! You could’ve just… I don’t know, asked for tea! Or water! Or literally anything else!”

“And miss out on the best cortado this side of Madrid?” Franco shook his head in mock disappointment. “No, no. That would’ve been a tragedy.”

You couldn’t help it—you snorted, covering your mouth with your hand to muffle the laugh that slipped out.

“See?” He pointed at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re laughing. So I must be doing something right.”

“You are—” You shook your head, still laughing, pressing a hand to your forehead. “You are really weird.”

Franco only grinned wider, looking pleased with himself.

“And yet, you like it.”

“I don’t,” you shot back, even though the warmth creeping into your cheeks said otherwise.

Franco raised an eyebrow, his grin growing impossibly smug. “You sure about that?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know, there’s a fine line between charming and annoying.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But I’d still like to take you out.”

Your laughter slowly faded, but the warmth in your chest stayed.

You pretended to think about it, tapping your chin, letting the moment stretch out just a little longer, just to make him wait.

Then—you smiled.

After a moment, you rolled your eyes, though your smile was now completely unguarded. “Fine. But if this date is awful, I’m making you drink two cortados next time.”

“Deal.” He grinned, his green eyes sparkling with so much boyish delight that you couldn’t help but laugh again.

You sighed, shaking your head, but the smile stayed on your face long after Franco walked out of the café that day.

[withahappyrefrain]

Can you please do meet cute 45) A owns a flower shop and B just needs the courage to go inside and say hello. For Rhett Abbott?

THIS ONE SCREAMS RHETT!! I'm so glad someone requested it with him!

Rhett Abbott had never felt more ridiculous in his entire life. 

He was told they just needed a few things from the grocery store. Rhett hated going to the grocery store. It meant people and people judged and whispered things about him, regardless of if it was true (majority of the time it wasn’t). 

But the grocery store was on the same street as The Wild Rose, Wabang’s brand new flower shop. And inside was you, the owner. 

Rhett scoffed at the idea at first. There was no way Wabang had enough people to warrant a flower shop. Plus, folks had plenty of land, they could make their damn bouquets if they wanted. 

Apparently people were lazy. It also helped that you sold wine and little knick knacks in addition to floral arrangements. Jars of speciality honey from a local farm, the wine from a nearby vineyard. Dish towels with funny sayings and food related puns. 

It wasn’t a store Rhett would go into, nevertheless pay attention to. But Amy wanted to go and it wasn’t like Perry was going to take her. 

There was a decent sized crowd outside the store, listening to the mayor drone on about how great this was going to be for the town, not just for Wabang but also for the surrounding area. Out of all the places to be on the ‘precipice of an economic boom’, Wabang did not come to Rhett’s mind. 

Before he could roll his eyes anymore, the mayor introduced the owner of the shop, you. 

God, you were beautiful with your bright eyes and dazzling smile as you spoke about how welcoming Wabang had been to you and how helpful when it came to making your dream a reality. Rhett was instantly smittened. 

But he couldn’t just go up and talk to you. For one, you were busy cutting a red ribbon with stupidly giant scissors. 

Second, you were luminous, vivid. Everything he wasn't. 

Rhett knew he didn't offer much, if anything. His life was directionless; all he did was work on the ranch and ride bulls when he could (when his right shoulder wasn't acting up). He would just drag you down. So instead, he settled for the chances he could walk past your shop and peek into the window for a glimpse of you. 

It was fucking pathetic. His family would give him so much shit if they found out. And yet, it was the highlight of his day, seeing you arrange a case, talk to customers. Rhett especially loved it when he caught you giving the floral arrangements to clients. The corners of your eyes would crease and the bridge of your nose scrunched up when you revealed your creation. It also allowed him to linger by the store window, to bask in your warmth for a little bit longer. 

“Do you think they're pretty?” Amy asked one day while they were walking down the street. 

Rhett let out a confused hum, turning his attention from your store window to his niece. 

“The owner. You always look in their window when we pass by,” Amy explained with a giggle. 

“It's just an interesting store,” Rhett grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets as he began walking again. 

“Then you should go inside!” Amy called out as she ran after him. 

If only it was that easy. 

—----------

Several months later Rhett was now standing in front of your door, rather than your window. 

He should go in. He had zero reason to not go in. Rhett actually required your services. So it wasn't as if he was just going to stroll in there with no plan. Or worse, use Amy as a guise (God, he hated when Perry did that). 

It was just….the thought of being in your presence, speaking to you. Having a conversation. Rhett wasn't much of a talker, never had been. Why would he, when hardly anyone was interested in what he had to say? 

And the truth was, he didn't have to go in. He could figure this out on his own. 

But when would his next chance come along? 

It was the unclear answer that gave him the courage to turn the handle and open the door. 

Your shop felt warm and inviting. One wall was filled with shelves, dedicated to displaying various colorful vases. In the middle, a designated ‘flower bar’ where folks could create their own bouquets. Amongst the store were various house plants and knick knacks. 

“Hi! Can I help you?” A sweet voice caused Rhett to turn around, the air exiting his lungs upon seeing you. 

He could only nod, at a complete loss for words. 

You waited for him, to see if he would expand. When he didn’t, you simply smiled and asked, “What can I do for ya?”

With fumbling hands, Rhett got out the photo from his jacket, “Um…I need help identifying these flowers. They’re the wedding flowers she had and I wanna draw the bouquet as like a….like a gift. Figured it would last longer than getting a bouquet but I uh…I need help identifying them. I wanna look them up so I can get the details right.”

This was going horribly. He should have just bought a magnifying glass off of Amazon or find someone who could digitally restore photos. 

“Do you know where they got married?” You asked, extending your hand out for the photo. 

“Yeah, uh, here in Wabang,” Rhett answered, running a hand up and down the back of his neck, hoping his body was just warm and not turning a bright red. 

“Oh, well that makes it much easier!” Rhett gave you the photo and you motioned for him to follow you to the counter. You got out a book that had a beautiful embossed floral design on the cover.

“I’m glad you know where they got married. It makes it much easier to identify. Also, considering WaBang has hadn’t a floral shop until this year and the nearest one was over an hour away, I’m assuming these are flowers native to Wyoming,” you explained, flipping through the pages. 

You looked up through your lashes, “I can tell you what flowers they are and you can look them up. But am I safe to assume that as an artist, you’d rather have your references in person?”

“Oh uh, I’m not…I’m not an artist,” He mumbled, shaking his head as he shoved his hands into his pockets. A nervous habit he couldn’t seem to break. 

“You’re creating art. Last time I checked, that makes you an artist…..” your voice trailed off, waiting to hear a name. 

“Oh! I’m Rhett. Sorry.” How could he forget to introduce himself? “Yeah, having something I could look at and observe up close would be great.” 

“Well Rhett, I’m more than happy to recreate that bouquet for ya. But I don’t have some of these flowers in stock, so it’ll take some time to order them,” you explained, “Probably like a week or so? If I have your number, I can let you know when they arrive.”

Rhett looked up, eyes wide in disbelief, “You want my number?”

Your nose scrunched up as you nodded, “Yes. I would love to have your number Rhett. Would hate for you to come in and I don’t have what you need.”

Rhett would do it. In fact, he even tried to assure you so. 

“Well, I might need another photo just to ensure I’m accurate. How will I let you know?” You countered. Fuck, you had a great point. 

So Rhett fumbled with getting out his phone, hands shaking as he passed it off to you. 

“I’ll give you my number too if that’s alright. Just so you aren’t wondering who’s texting you.” Your giggle was so endearing, Rhett couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t help but feel his shoulders drop and relax. 

He nodded, a small, slightly lopsided and totally sweet smile, “Yeah, that’s fine.”

You handed Rhett back his phone, “I’ll let you know if I need more info! And when I get them in.”

Rhett nodded, secretly (and seriously) hoping he didn’t look like an idiot with how hard he was smiling. 

“I'll uh, see ya around?” He practically asked. You nodded eagerly, saying your goodbyes as he quickly got out of the store. 

Rhett felt like he could finally breathe again once he was out of your store. That went well, right? He had your number, though it was intended to give updates regarding a gift for his mom. But he also had another chance to see you. Granted, once he was done with this project, he wouldn't have a reason to go into your shop. Maybe for Amy’s birthday, he could get her flowers. 

The vibration of his phone broke Rhett out of his thoughts. It couldn't be….could it? 

His eyes widened when he saw your name attached to the text. He nearly dropped his phone when he read your message. 

I'm glad you finally came in! I've been wanting to meet you ever since the store opened :) 

[ialreadymadeyouapromise]

𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄, 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆.

PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem!reader WARNINGS: no use of y/n GENRE: fluff SONG INSPIRATION: latch - disclosure, sam smith WORD COUNT: 642 NOTE: short but sweet

navigation | inbox | rafe cameron masterlist

the sunlight streamed through the large bay windows of your home, casting golden hues across the pristine marble floors. the house was everything you’d ever dreamed of.

soft, plush furniture, a kitchen big enough to host a dinner for ten, and every cozy, thoughtful detail carefully curated. rafe had made sure of it, from the custom light fixtures to the artwork he insisted would remind you of your favorite trips together. it was all perfect, except for one thing.

rafe wasn’t here.

you sat curled up on the oversized sectional, the faint sound of a playlist you both loved filling the room. it had been three weeks since rafe left for another work trip, this one in london. three weeks of facetime calls, endless text chains, and nightly goodnight messages. 

he was attentive, as he always was, and somehow still managed to make you feel loved even from across the ocean. but none of it was a substitute for having him here.

you sighed, setting your phone on the coffee table and hugging a throw pillow to your chest. the days felt longer when rafe was away, the house quieter. you missed his laugh, his touch, the way he would wrap you in his arms.

a sharp ding pulled you out of your thoughts. you glanced at your phone, a text from rafe lighting up the screen.

rafe: delivery for you at the door, baby. go check.

you frowned, confused. delivery? you hadn’t ordered anything. rafe was known for his surprises – little trinkets or gifts he’d send your way to brighten your day. but today didn’t feel like a delivery kind of day.

pushing off the couch, you padded to the front door, curiosity prickling at you. as you opened it, your breath hitched.

there he was.

rafe stood on the doorstep, his suitcase in one hand and a grin tugging at his lips. he looked exhausted, his hair slightly mussed, but those piercing blue eyes of his sparkled with mischief.

“surprise,” he said, dropping the bag as you launched yourself at him.

“rafe!” you practically knocked him off balance, your arms wrapping around his neck as he steadied you with a laugh.

“missed me, huh?”

“missed you?” you pulled back just enough to pepper his face with kisses. his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, and finally, his lips. “you have no idea. you said you wouldn’t be home until next week!”

“i couldn’t wait that long,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “being away from you sucks, babe.”

he pulled you closer, his arms encircling your waist, and for the first time in weeks, everything felt right again. you rested your forehead against his, savouring the moment.

“you’re really here,” you whispered.

“i’m really here,” he said, a soft chuckle rumbling from his chest. “and i’m not going anywhere for a while.”

you didn’t care if his bags was still sitting on the porch or if the neighbors might have heard your squeal. all that mattered was that rafe was home, and you weren’t letting go of him anytime soon.

the rest of the day felt like a blur of laughter, stolen kisses, and quiet moments spent catching up. rafe insisted on cooking dinner, even though you protested, and the two of you ended up making a mess in the kitchen. 

he wore that cocky smile of his as he tossed a dish towel over his shoulder, looking every bit the man you’d fallen in love with nearly 6 years ago.

later, as you lay tangled together on the couch, his hand running lazily through your hair, you let yourself sink into the feeling of contentment. the house no longer felt empty.

“i love you, you know,” rafe said softly, his lips brushing against your temple.

“i know,” you replied, a smile tugging at your lips.

“i love you too.”

reblogs and comments are appreciated ᯓ★

© ialreadymadeyouapromise 2024.

[saebyeokbliss]

ONCE MORE TO SEE YOU— PART XIV.

FINAL CHAPTER

synopsis: on a cold january day, you were worrying about the reason your girlfriend wasn’t texting back. when she finally does and asks to meet at your apartment, you’re met with heartbreak as she ends your relationship. no explanation. two years later, you run into her at a cafe with someone new. what are you to do?

warnings: fluff for once, nothing else

pairing: sae-byeok x fem!reader

The idea of going on an actual date with Sae-byeok felt surreal.

Not just because it had been years since you last did something like this together, but because now, after everything—the fights, the heartbreak, the pain—you were finally here. Together again.

It had been Sae-byeok’s idea.

After your shift at the diner, she had wiped her hands on a dish towel, leaned against the counter, and said, “You free tonight?”

You had blinked at her, caught off guard. “Uh… yeah?”

“Good,” she said, tossing her apron aside. “Come with me.”

And that’s how you ended up here—walking through the city at dusk, your hands brushing against hers as the neon lights flickered to life around you. You didn’t ask where she was taking you. You just followed, trusting her in a way that felt natural.

After a few blocks, she finally stopped in front of a small shop tucked between two larger buildings. Your breath hitched when you recognized it.

Your favorite bookstore.

The one you used to drag her to all the time, the one you had told her was your safe place.

You turned to her, eyes wide. “You remembered?”

Sae-byeok looked away, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets. “Of course I did,” she muttered. “You never shut up about it.”

You laughed, warmth blooming in your chest.

She remembered.

Even after all these years, after everything that had happened, she still remembered.

The moment you stepped inside, the familiar scent of old paper and fresh coffee wrapped around you like a warm embrace. The soft hum of a jazz record played in the background, and the dim, golden lighting made everything feel intimate, cozy.

It was exactly the way you remembered it.

Sae-byeok watched as you wandered through the shelves, trailing your fingers along the spines of books, a soft smile playing on your lips. She didn’t say much—just followed behind at a comfortable distance, watching you with something almost like awe.

She had seen you smile before—at Cheol, at Ji-yeong, at customers at the diner. But this?

This was different.

This was you, happy in a way that was entirely your own.

And damn it, she had missed that smile.

After a few minutes, you pulled a book from the shelf and turned to her, eyes sparkling. “This one,” you said excitedly. “This was my favorite.”

Sae-byeok glanced at the title, then shrugged. “Alright.”

Before you could ask what she meant, she took the book from you and walked toward the counter.

You blinked. “Wait, what—”

She ignored you, pulling out her wallet and handing over the cash without hesitation. The cashier rang it up, placing the book in a small paper bag before handing it to her.

When she turned back to you, she smirked at your stunned expression. “What?”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said, still caught off guard.

She shrugged. “I wanted to.”

And for Sae-byeok, that was enough.

After leaving the bookstore, you both ended up at the small café next door. It was quiet, tucked away from the busy streets, the perfect place to sit and just be.

Sae-byeok handed you your coffee before sitting across from you, her fingers wrapped around her own cup as she watched you flip through the pages of your new book.

She liked this.

Liked watching you get lost in something you loved. Liked the way you absentmindedly tucked your hair behind your ear as you read. Liked the way you glanced up at her every now and then, like you were making sure she was still there.

“I missed this,” you murmured after a moment, closing the book and setting it aside.

She raised an eyebrow. “The bookstore?”

You shook your head, meeting her gaze. “Us.”

Sae-byeok swallowed, looking down at her coffee. “Yeah,” she admitted quietly. “Me too.”

You reached across the table, your fingers brushing against hers. She hesitated for only a second before turning her hand over, letting your fingers intertwine.

Neither of you spoke.

You didn’t need to.

For the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

The walk back to your apartment was slow, unhurried. The city lights flickered above you, the distant hum of traffic filling the silence between you and Sae-byeok. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It was easy, the kind that settled between two people who didn’t need words to understand each other.

When you finally reached your door, you hesitated before turning to her.

“Do you… want to come in for a bit?” you asked, your voice soft. “We could watch a movie or something.”

Sae-byeok raised an eyebrow. “A movie?”

You shrugged, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You know, like normal couples do after a date.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes, but the faintest hint of a smirk played on her lips. “Fine.”

You both ended up curled on the couch, a soft blanket draped over the two of you as the movie played on the screen.

Sae-byeok had started out sitting stiffly beside you, but as the minutes passed, she slowly relaxed. At some point, you shifted, resting your head against her shoulder, and she didn’t move away.

Instead, she leaned into you—just a little.

The warmth of her body against yours was comforting, grounding. The kind of warmth you hadn’t realized you’d been missing until now.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but at some point, Sae-byeok’s head tilted slightly, resting gently against yours. Her breathing evened out, her body growing heavier against you.

She had fallen asleep.

You smiled sleepily, your eyes drifting closed as well.

And just like that, with the soft glow of the screen flickering over both of you, you let yourself fall asleep too—wrapped in warmth, in comfort, in her.

For the first time in years, neither of you had to worry about tomorrow.

For tonight, this was enough.

The subway was packed, as it always was during the late afternoon rush. You stood near the doors, one hand gripping the pole for balance, your mind still lingering on the night before.

Sae-byeok had fallen asleep on you.

You smiled to yourself at the memory—her body warm against yours, her soft breathing lulling you into sleep alongside her. When you woke up that morning, she had still been there, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, grumbling about how you should’ve woken her up.

She had kissed you before she left.

It was soft. Barely there. But it meant something.

And now, here you were, lost in the thought of her, the gentle sway of the subway car lulling you into a daze—until a voice pulled you back.

“Excuse me.”

You blinked, turning toward the sound.

A man in a suit sat across from you, a briefcase placed neatly beside him. His smile was polite. Familiar, in a way you couldn’t quite place.

He held up a red and blue folded paper tile in one hand.

“Would you like to play a game?”

You hesitated, glancing around as if to make sure he was really speaking to you.

The man’s smile didn’t waver. “It’s simple,” he said, holding up the tile. “We each take turns trying to flip the other’s ddakji. If you win, I’ll give you 100,000 won.”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly. “Wait, really?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

You eyed him, then the paper tile in his hand. There was something oddly formal about him—his suit was crisp, his hair perfectly styled, his demeanor calm yet purposeful.

But still, it seemed harmless enough.

You shrugged. “Alright. Why not?”

His smile widened.

He placed the blue tile on the ground between you, then handed you the red one. “You go first.”

You crouched down, gripping the ddakji before slamming it against the blue tile. It barely budged.

The man chuckled. “Not bad. Try again.”

You tried again. And again. Each time, the tile barely moved.

The salesman only smiled, picking up his own ddakji. “May I?”

You nodded, watching as he wound his arm back and snapped the tile down against yours with practiced precision.

The blue tile flipped instantly.

Your mouth parted slightly. “Damn.”

He let out a short laugh, sitting back. “We can go again, if you’d like.”

You smirked, determined now. “Yeah, okay.”

So you played again.

And again.

And again.

You lost every time.

But the salesman never seemed frustrated, never rushed you. He only smiled, encouraged you, and kept playing.

And slowly, without realizing it, you started winning.

After nearly twenty minutes, you finally flipped his tile.

You grinned, triumphant. “Ha! Finally!”

The salesman laughed, nodding approvingly. “Well done.”

True to his word, he pulled out a crisp 100,000 won bill and handed it to you.

You hesitated. “You were actually serious about the money?”

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “A deal is a deal.”

You took the bill, still slightly stunned.

Then, before you could say anything else, he reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a small, simple card.

He held it out to you.

“If you’d like to play more games for a much bigger prize,” he said, voice even, “call this number.”

You took the card, flipping it between your fingers.

A phone number.

And beneath it, a symbol.

○ △ □

You frowned, your thumb brushing over the strange shapes. “What kind of games?”

The salesman only smiled.

“You’ll find out if you call.”

The subway slowed to a stop. The doors slid open.

The man stood, grabbing his briefcase. “It was a pleasure playing with you,” he said, stepping onto the platform.

You watched him walk away, disappearing into the crowd.

Then you looked down at the card again.

○ △ □

Something about it sent a shiver down your spine.

But you ignored it.

After all, it was just a game.

Right?

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